Lyrics:
funny?
I don't know cause he talks about his
Battle with Freeway like the four
Touchdowns he scored back in high school
You the black Al Bundy
Y'all wanna
burn gusto pick ya urn
ninja give the Fooly back its not yurn
ninja give the Fooly back its not yurn
Cuntry Hippie light the bob in let it burn
Addicted to arguments full of fraudulence
I feel like Bob Marley
Bob Marley
I feel like Bob Marley
Bob Marley
I tell my people get up
Stand up
Fight for
lost like high school history
Creator of the rhymin' dominoes
Watchin' 'em drop it's the joint, see (yeah)
So hit me with the Zsa Zsa (indeed,
Our high school days were all about prepping
In various ways I can picture Bob schlepping
Played a little football but he didn't go far
Did all
kissed my friend from my school
Yea, I wanted to see BOB
I was hype at 11 I saw him at 13
I been waiting two years to see him in my city
Boy better play
Back in high school I barely left my room
I was quite content wallowing in teenage gloom
My hobby was watching tv in bed all day
Until my parents
Cut off your mind
Getting wavy with Wavy
My last name is Nuff not Jones
Couple bones washing up on the shore
Skull missing now me pissing
Off
of big breakfast
Start off the day with some Bob Marley
Back to the woods for that fresh parlay
Maybe even spark a little Nicki J.
And then it's
of big breakfast
Start off the day with some Bob Marley
Back to the woods for that fresh parlay
Maybe even spark a little Nicki J.
And then it's
are up and down like
The Dow Jones, I bust
These microphones, don't exaggerate
I keep it real
And only speak about the shit I hate
Don't hate you
MORTICIAN : Eric Idle
CUSTOMER : John Cleese
DEAD PERSON : ???
DENNIS : Michael Palin
WOMAN : Terry Jones
BLACK KNIGHT : John Cleese (?)
VILLAGER #1 :
school
Graduation could lighten up the mood
Hats off for a solid effort to the dude
So please, Lord, prosper him
Yeah, if we get high
If we get high, if
Killer, Jim Jones
My man DJ Nasty in the house tonight
(Hey lady)
I know you heard me in British rob
But I get you bracelets till
Ya wrist is
feat. Jim Jones, Hell Rell, JR Writer
Cam'ron:
See the problem is I ain't goin' nowhere
You could shoot at me, you could stab at me
Take ya best
They were farm kids way down in Dixie
They met in high school in the sixties
Everyone knew it was love from the start
One July in the midnight
They were farm kids way down in Dixie,
They met in high school in the sixties.
Everyone knew it was love from the start.
One July in the midnight
pass 'em the Oscar
From the new school rappers, yeah I'm the illest on the roster
Smoke like a rasta
Black and white like Bob Marley, yeah, like Bob
close and to our ten year bond
I have to give a toast
Cause the way that I feel
Yo it ain't no joke
You got a brotha feelin' high
Like Busta-Bus when he
He can shotgun a cold Coors Light in under two seconds
Holds the high school single season home run record
He's the duck call king, with a Black
Bronx Style Bob is in the house, what you wanna do? (Party!)
Hen-Gee is in the house, what you wanna do, homeboy? (Party!)
My man Shaquel is in
They were farm kids way down in Dixie
They met in high school in the sixties
Everyone knew it was love from the start
One July in the midnight
kicked out of high school several years ago
For pushin over port-a-cans at the 4-H rodeo
Since then they've done their little dance
Right outside
out of high school several years ago
For pushin' over port-a-cans at the 4-H rodeo
Since then they've done their little dance
Right outside the law
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