Lyrics:
And there we got upset.
A day or two ago
The story I must tell
I went out on the snow
And on my back I fell;
A gent was riding by
In a one-horse open
to disagree?"
So Bernice bobs her hair and is instantly ensnared
In a trap so well prepared by Marjorie
Her hair was long, her hair was dark
Her hair fell
Yeah, one two
Yeah, where my nigga Jay Dee?
Where ya at? (Yeah!)
Say you got guns, then bring that shit
Say you got ones, then bring that shit
the club with you
It's only two types of niggas
A street nigga and a you type of nigga
A coon type of nigga
Prolly born with a noose, silver spoon type
[Common]
Yeah, one two..
Yeah, where my nigga Jay Dee?
Where ya at? (Yeah!)
(Oooh, you say you got guns, then bring that shit) what?
(You say you got
my buddy
He'll be standin' by me
Just another half of
The two headed freak
But I need him like
My heart needs to beat
At this point
In this
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
until my balls turn blue
Chorus
Verse 2: Fresh Kid Ice
I remember the first time I got a blow job
You know what I mean, when she slobs on Bob
She was
You shine brightly in my sky
With me while the nights go by
Catch a comet by the tail
If he hollers go to jail
I had a spider monkey and his name
Santa Claus this year
Well I heard he got a job
And he's changing me to Bob
You can shave in the lobby of a Cadillac Hotel
They gave him unemployment
open sleigh
A day or two ago,
I thought I'd take a ride,
And soon Miss Fanny Bright
Was seated by my side;
The horse was lean and lank;
Walkin' To Missouri
Sammy Kaye
Peaked at # 11 in 1952
Words and music by Bob Merrill, 1952
Poor little robin walkin', walkin', WALKIN'
open sleigh
A day or two ago,
I thought I'd take a ride,
And soon Miss Fanny Bright
Was seated by my side;
The horse was lean and lank;
old back room
He'd bob his head and say, "Damn, oh, that's you?"
But by The Black Album, I was blackin' out
Party at S.O.B.'s and we had packed
old back room
He'd bob his head and say, "Damn, oh, that's you?"
But by The Black Album, I was blackin' out
Party at S.O.B.'s and we had packed
no cigarettes.
Ah, but two hours of pushing broom
Gets a eight by twelve four bit room
Well, I'm a man of means by no means
King of the road.
King
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
two seconds flat
And that's probably a record, yeah, you wasn't expectin' that
'Cause they want in on the act, there's a Cognac bottle
We snuck it in
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
Jim Pons (bass, vocals, dialog)
Bob Harris (keyboards, vocals)
Don Preston (mini-moog)
You are... you gotta tell me something... I
Light up the broccoli kid
Throw the relish in my back pocket
Keep your eyes open, push your seat back, just flow
That's how we doing it
Bound by
I'm the truth, tell it, loud weed yellin'
Get it by the pound, we just smoke it, we don't sell it
What I blow'll make a plane go
Them bitches say
and love all around (ooh-yeah)
[Verse 2]
From Kingston to Montego Bay
The reggae vibes keep playing all day
Bob Marley and Peter Tosh paved the way
Their
Words and music by Bob Hartman
Based on Ezekiel 22:30, 1 Timothy 2:1, James 5:16
There's no feeling
Like when you have a friend in need
Their heart
get some sleep tonight
I don't know what you are like
But I know that by the morning light
Bob Marley
Doing speedballs at McDonald's like Chris Farley
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