Search results for 'ode to my car by bob evans' Page #19

looking for him
I'd play my little songs in the car next to you boo
She bob her head and say, "damn! Oh, that's you?"
But by the last anthem, I was feeling

Fools use chess like a VCR
Worth as much as a CD-R
Gotta put my hands in the cookie jar
You got beef? 
Let my rap den rip ya car
Disappear like

Pack five dollars a piece
Bob Marley out the Bose and the windows
Gramps bitchin' from a distance cause
He knows it's Spose
Oh, up to my usual nonsense

disarray
Echos ringing in my brain
Same thang, every 3 am
Cold game, can’t sleep
Fuck it, let’s paint this pain away
Bob Ross how I turn my L’s
Into some

only left over scraps, by hungry niggas wit large hustle
So many reps with the bars I call my American car, muscle
I still get thru it when the road is

if i look nasty or deceased
Or my ass looks like its been had by the priest (sorry)
But last thing that i want from you is the fucking re-spect
Cuz

Let's say you met someone, right?
She took the best years of your life
She was proud to be your girl, couldn't wait to be the wife
Years went by

the haters out the picture. Photoshop crop it
Wilding through landmines
On the other side project cars, mansions, and trophy wives
Slept in my car first

of the giant
Tell me this then
What happened to the cars flying, Tesla bro
Is there really intelligent life on Mars, extra terrestrial
Do people get abducted by

a Harley (oh shit)
I'm just tryna to smoke a blunt, no Bacardi
Doin' a buck eighty in my new 'Rari (vroom)
Roll up, spark up, like I'm Bob Marley
Get high

Halle Berry (She's Fine)

Beenie Man

Down South Slangin 59

2009

Well let's get ratchet
Let's get ratchet
Look at her prettier then Halle and thicker than Janet
She say she like all of my club bangers I be jamming

to myself about how to get it together 
I'm thinking that maybe I should really listen to my conscience
I may not have the money or the cars or the clothes

Poetry my gift, I decided to keep it
and use it
cs Bob Marley,
we
jammin', by all means
cnd real gangsters in magazines
You wanna see
the club or the party

Poetry my gift, I decided to keep it
and use it
As Bob Marley,
we
jammin', by all means
And real gangsters in magazines
You wanna see
the club or the party

during class
And I drive my car around just a little too fast
My responsibilities consist of taking out the trash
When I say that I'm a rapper people look

day I'll realize
I told myself that I won't cry
In the studio wiping my eyes
Ya this songs an ode to those times
But that's just how it goes
And I know

Many die before they know just who they are
You got a wife that’s not in love
With you but honey loves your car
And all the diamonds and the
Things you

Ice all up on me im glidin and shit
Rollie two tone gold and silver is mixed
Watch out for my glock it aint owned by a jit
Bustas be hating i dont give

Nigga best play by the rules
Ain't dissin on bob I'm a builder but really hate using my tool
Everyone staring amazed by the way we walk into the room
Best

but it aint fuckin heameroids
Outside my house its an unmarked car
I aint going down so piss you wanker
oh no, hang on, its Two-way Bob
With his new

back to this mission
This chapter one the beginning
My kingdom come and we kill it
Freeing our sons from that sickness
Feeded to them by them bridges

nightshirt baby, hand me my morning gown (repeat 2x)
Don't feel sleepy
I just feel like lyin' down

Gotta help me baby, help me baby
Can't do it all by myself

Niggas been grinding for years, man
The way I see it, this Rebel Gang shit
Ain't no "get in, get out" type shit
We gon be here forever
(This for my

fix cars, but got AAA service
I make music, you can have a theme song
Might be seen as short, but my personality long
My credit score's great, high