Lyrics:
the backseat, champ
Yeah, I'm in the backseat, still got the seat back
Feet back, stay from where the fake be at
Niggas snitch for the shine, where
don't be uptight!
Over by $1, what a fright!
Nobody ever wrote a song about Bob (Why not?)
This is a shame he did such a good job
He deserved (he does!)
still young...'cause, 'fo y'all knows it, he be reachin' adulthood and marry some bitch name rhonda ...'n, by dat time, he gwine become what dey call
leaves the ground
It tears away with a mighty force
The air is shattered by that awesome sound
(T-plus thirty seconds, plus thirty-five
Columbia,
Flakes, flakes
Flakes, flakes
They don't do no good
They never be workin' when they oughta should
They waste your time
They're wastin' mine
better than
Hey son I keep planets in orbit
While I be comin with deeper and more shit
Enough to make ya , break ya , shake ya ass
???
Ryhmes good
transistors will play
Come into bed is the move
Dolby sound will be then top crowned
When I put the needle into your groove
I got a good thing and in full
leaves the ground
It tears away with a mighty force
The air is shattered by that awesome sound
(T-plus thirty seconds, plus thirty-five
Columbia,
What's happenin' all over?
I'll tell ya what's happenin' all over.
Guy sittin' home by a television set
Who once used to be something of a rover.
Heh-ha-heh-ha-ha-ha Did ya miss me? I sure missed you!
I told ya we're gonna be friends to the end and now it's time to play
I got a new game sport it's called hide
a good sport
She know how to ride
She was a smart gurl
In a short skort
She play this life
Like it's her sport
And she down to ride
She a good sport
She
on me no Mike Vick
I bob and weave in that pussy good and I knock it out like Tyson
Say first round, face down, ass up, straight pound
Yeah, shorty, she
to motherfuckers, who ain't go no cake
When you all fucked up, and can't get no break
When your fake ass friends, don't help you out when you need it
Be on some
clique to the T-O-P on G-O-D with B.o.B.
Tell by the hat, you could tell by the tat, you could tell how I act, you could tell how I rap that I represent
all eloquent, leather shit in my front yard
Tv by my swimming pool, got it built like a sports bar
Chevelle with a new motor, got the bitch like
long since gone
Tell me how can it be in the twenty first century
The people judge then just walk on by
And day after day he over hears somebody say
the fuck up when you hear love talkin'
Shut the fuck up when you hear love talkin'
If God be the source then I am the plug talkin'
Yeah, baby
Yeah, baby
good. This could be interesting. Carry on!
Larry: Cebu! Sing it with me! Cebu!
Jimmy, Jerry & Junior: Cebu!
Larry: Boy is riding with cebu
Jimmy, Jerry
home first I guess and then Bob and then Tommy and then Dan
By then dad's hair was turning white and I sort of had to be mama's little man
But you
specialize in misconstruin'
We wanna be at a presidential level, what are we doin'?
Foolin' ourselves, clownin' ourselves, playin' ourselves
By not bein'
Flakes, flakes
Flakes, flakes
They don't do no good
They never be workin' when they oughta should
They waste your time
They're wastin' mine
a man with master plans
And sweaty hands
Do you wanna be a rich man
How do you do
But then it's alright
The band was good and it was Saturday night
It
home first I guess and then Bob and then Tommy and then Dan
By then dad's hair was turning white and I sort of had to be mama's little man
But you
and precise
Special effects will be created by an editor's splice
The funk is in it,ya dig it so stop that frontin'
Bust a move to my groove work your body do
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