Lyrics:
headed straight to hell
By the highway
No matter how long and how hard
That I prayed
So I might as well learn how to make
This guitar talk
Somebody said
bob and weave 'em, hit him with that Mayweather jab
I get the thumbs up like I'm hailin' a yellow cab (hailin' a yellow cab)
My flow nuts like M&M's
I'm getting by with my wicked ways
I'm loading up and I'm taking names
I wanna dig my way to hell
I wanna dig my way to hell
I'm getting by
sample]
I'm that nigga, I'm that nigga, I'm that nigga, I'm that nigga
[Chorus]
[T.I. talking over chorus]
Hey! B.o.B, you up next, baby!
Hey! Grand
This that type a shit, that you just bob your head too
Bob ya head too, you just you just bob ya head too
This that type a shit that you just bob ya
try to diss, your butt is on a meat hook
Want some of me? You're on a mission
Bad move, you end up missin
Let's get it straight for the '89 tip
fuckin’ with it
Pockets fat these racks can’t fit in
Hmm
Don’t be too pissed by what I m spittin’
Cuz I kept
[HOOK ]
Bob and Weavin’ Bob and Weavin’
let drugs do you
Son, do the drugs don't let drugs do you
Son, do the drugs don't let drugs do you
Do the drugs
Up jumps the Boogie bitch, I
on airplanes like B.o.B
Canibus, Wu-Tang, you know our history but hats off
When we rap this Jack Frost we outline the track chalk
Thank God for the one-two
it, then get the wax utensils
Write my rhymes straight up, don't get with no fancy stencils
The rhymes we get is sweet, we stay away from tart
Our
Milky, and I'm back
My ace in the hole was this brand new track
I'ma slow it up and speed it up and now you're gonna eat it up
Listen
Depressive ironing board backside straight up and straight down. No
Frills no thrills Miss six o'clock subject to have the itch mutanoid
Caucasoid white
the whole damn world
We gangsterous!
Bitches on niggas, let them think they got game
We sent them hoes, them hoes know Bob by they name
We put the P's in
flapped long ears and didn't brush up by day
Got his long ears whittled and his old hid scorched in a most artistic way
Now one fine day old Sandy Bob he
it down, finish, give it back up
Wash the dick off while she roll the kush sack up
I'm the truth, tell it, loud weed yellin'
Get it by the pound, we
that hover
I heard it'll make you kill a motherfucker
(don't stop girl)
I mean you gotta feel it man
She bob and weave up and down you'd be
Like "I could
How 'bout we hit the club and
Walk up straight through VIP
How 'bout we get some Puerto
Rican girls and Japanese
How 'bout we get some strippers
life
I can only imagine that's fucked up
I can only imagine, Uncle Bob
Life's about decisions man
It's in your hand and you got it
Just take control if
gone
And come morning
I am disappeared
Just an imprint on the bedsheets
I'm by the roadside with my thumb out
A car pulls up, and Bob's driving
He used to get straight A's
Nowadays get way payed is the pet phrase
Set the stage, preferably night time
Daylight reserved for research
going to kill you
Slowly I turn, step by step, through the back window I crept
Silent as a mouse on the set while everybody in the house slept
I
lit dro
You can smell it straight through the pipes
To get awake Bob Marley up out of his casket
I got my blunt in my right hand
Lighter in my left
bob and weave 'em, hit him with that Mayweather jab
I get the thumbs up like I'm hailin' a yellow cab (hailin' a yellow cab)
My flow nuts like M&M's
Milky, and I'm back
My ace in the hole was this brand new track
I'ma slow it up and speed it up and now you're gonna eat it up
Listen
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