Lyrics:
Girl, this rubbled mess was caused by my neglect.
Of course, I'll pay and by the way, my dear,
Here comes Bob!
I ain't subtle in my ways of making
man, went from that to makin a livin
Rightous willin, the only thing supreme swimmin
And proceed, to not smoke weed around the seed
It's the new way
man, went from that to makin a livin
Rightous willin, the only thing supreme swimmin
And proceed, to not smoke weed around the seed
It's the new way
in the alley
Way hey hey hey bully in the alley
Help me, Bob, I'm bully in the alley
Bully down in shinbone al
I found by self out under three oh
Wey
to make His way home
Back up to Heaven all alone
Nobody callin' on the phone
'Cept for the Pope maybe in Rome
Yeah, yeah, God is great
Yeah, yeah, God is
This, happy home
This, happy home
This, happy home
This, happy home
Back in the day when the bus was less than three quarters
Lloyd met
this on head bob and listen
Back in time when we dodged the limits
Harlan drive L rides would lift it
Round the time when we found the vision
Riding
feel like you're a winner but you never know for sure
Now that Bob's just not your uncle anymore
So we see that you can find your way back home
back.
And they swim, swim, swim
back all the way home.
Doo doo doo doo doo doo,
doo bi doo bob!
And they swim, swim, swim
back all the way home.
in Austin
Bob Wills is still the king.
Lawd, I can still remember
The way things were back then
In spite of all the hard times
I'd live it all again.
ridiculous
Cause back in the days
Hold on let me tell you a story from way back
Way back before Daylyt got his face tat
When all you had was your fucking five
working on my raps
I saw too many things There ain't no going back
Bob to your head with me
If you think everyone should have enough to eat
Bob to your
feelings and Demonds up off me
42 wallaby way out in Sydney sliding on ice like i'm Crosby
Saucing this shit like i'm Melo
Finna turn to a rockstar like im
stall
Stutter, softer than melted butter
There's no other word, go ask your mother
Hard solid as your city
Born in Brooklyn, can tell by the way that
and McGregor looked worse than a beggar and had to go home for
a bath
You'll never look nobby by makin' a hobby of sparrin' with Robbie
McMath
BOTH:
Oh,
and McGregor looked worse than a beggar and had to go home for
a bath
You'll never look nobby by makin' a hobby of sparrin' with Robbie
McMath
BOTH:
Oh,
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
a song about a guy that probably did as much for
Our kind of music as anybody.
Well the Honky Tonks in Texas were my natural second home
The way you
Bob Crane
He was a mean old bastard
By the name of Bob Crane
He lived for the money and power
And felt no shame
Shit faced on whiskey
He beat
""Bob Venke, the Flamingo overlord
Has no qualms about annihilation
You should watch your back when he's in town
Or else it might be your neck
Mid-November
WNIC
I'll be home for Christmas
Alone with Bing Crosby
Drive down two-seventy-five
Inside my heated orb
Pretend I'm picking up your
Absent ghost
going far I'll be home by noon
Dave was a very good friend of Bob's
He took Bob's car and would speak to Charlotte
Dave nor Charlotte nor anyone else
Once there was a way to get back homeward
Once there was a way to get back home
Sleep pretty darling, do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby
Golden
as the warning comes for me, conducting me by my arms and returning my dreamy spirit to the stairs crest.
I dare not look back.
Fear now barres me from
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