Lyrics:
kid since I done gots my fame
I never recall you askin' last boyfriend for Nathan
But now the big 'Burban on golds got ya aggravated
(I need a Coach
posse, you got a bunch of dudes
Your broke, cold cryin 'bout the rockman blues
Ya beat up on your girl, and now you're all upset
She's with the Mix-A-Lot
niggas… I'm really a sexist
Can't let em know you got money cuz niggas is peasants
Remember them days pulled up to prom for niggas I had a machete
Punchin
And torn from you
You're just a senior in high school
Still playing by kid rules
Too old to cry, too young to drink
So you'll cope with smoke
And act
floors
And peranhas a week
Got a spouse, deep throats while I'm tryin' to sleep
Lookin' out for be -4's every diamond creek
[Huddy Combs]
But you
Ya know the kid with the O's
That's as large as linens
When it comes to sellin' trees
I'm as large as Timberland
My lawyer got my charges slimmin'
style
I think you my kid cos I raised you now
Thought I would quit but I doubled down
Broski going dumb make the homies proud
Introverted kid but can be
on the other end to bob their head
Or even just to tap their feet
Maybe listenin while they go for a morning run, study or eat
You take artist for granted
Enjoy
need me and (yeah)
Right now you don't like me, but
Later on you gonna hate me (what)
And I just got to do it
Fuck y'all, I'm a keep doin' my thing
at one time
(You did good, $lick)
(It's a smash)
Okay, okay, okay
Yeah, got me fucked up (okay, okay, okay)
Yeah, got me fucked up (yeah, yeah)
its like the clash of the titans
Lightning strikingly while I write this rhyme
We got the city back it's right on time
I'll make you dash like a hyphen,
making lemonade
Wrong for the market Dark If I'm honest
Smart in a way better find a better name
Walking a BobCat talking in all caps "You Talking to me?"
They put it in the tabloids.
Got a look at Fergi's boobs, my my.
Honey, honey, yeah.
You know JFK didn't really die.
They got a picture and he looks all
To be honest off the eddy
bourbon apple juice baby
Woodford Martinelli
And my demons moving steady
Vices in Miami new name Tom Vercetti
And she know
wit a nigga that compromise yo? hood
Yo? doin' shit you know it cool until the good
Got kids movin' work, hustlin' by the school
Using youngsters,
Wondering
Watching’ the world go on by, on by, on by
Cause these times bin a comin’
Times of change
World got written
Cards at play
Cause these times bin
casually
New kids bop, new rich identity
Put it on the pinky ring
Lady's say, "got damn"
Pause on the gemstones
Jim Jones, robbed em'
Rolled and I slipped
that shit straight hot
Tastes a little bitter now you wish you had some big Bob
Hoping when you pass me on the interstate (aye)
You get a bitter taste
of friends are pinging beans
They pretend they've got the power
But I know they're really fiends
It's so hard when you're surrounded
Everything is in your
punishment, she send 'em missin
My gun's my favourite bitch and
And she got permanent pms so she stay bitchin!
So I'm outside of the club and you think I'm
young me is there
a heaven for G's and soldiers i can't got to hell cuz
i'd take over i feel it aproachin but i ain't scared
i made that bed and i should
Dig a whole bury yourself nigga
Go ahead, keep goin' I got some nice dresses for you guys over there
The Incomparable H-O
Told ya to get ya
and away
Now, you critics mouth shut, got nothin' to say
And that's good for the kids, 'cause hip-hop
This is what it is
We keep showin' you
I don't put much stock in best laid plans
I like living my life by the seat of my pants
My hair on fire I'm out in the night
Kicking my heels till
Discuss these you got kids by bob tom Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In