Lyrics:
deckin', rubber neckin' in my tomb
Check it out yo, I smile like Groucho Marx
I make a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
Play me like a punk like
drugs and I could never be tooken
And you can suck my banana but I won't eat your pudding
So come a little closer, my wrist wanna know ya
Andale, andale,
TOM:
Look, I really dont think this is a good idea. It feels way too soon to be seeing a shrink?
CINDY:
Really? Well, thats always your problem,
wanna be built for prom,
How much muscle is he gonna have?
(Absolutely none!)
Didn't your sister get fucked in bed?
Can you explain what happened to your
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
a saxophone
At least we coulda made music
Instead of trippin'
I bought the bitch a dozen
Roses with eleven missin'
Huh, she said she wanna be a lifeguard
Bitch,
on girl
And I'm bettin' that it's gonna be a wild ride
But I promise that I'm gonna be there by your side
I think we got another memory in the makin'
So
Better do you cause I damn sure does me
And what your buzz be is only because of me
The wifey, hus-by, never was me
I does me, trust me
I don't wanna
of Heaven, girl
I was blown away by
Your sexiness
Now all I have to do is
Catch up to you
Slow down
I just wanna get to know you
But don't turn
They smile in your face, whole time wanna take your place
my circle get smaller by the day
can’t deal i just need my space
Trust ima always say
I'm in the mood
Shebi na bumbum, wey dey place me like rondon
Girl your body sweet like tom tom
And your body be like ghana shitor
Shebi na bumbum, wey
or get caught slippin'
She tryna leave with as much money as her bra's fittin'
Niggas wanna be in the league with the boss and em
Middle party smokin' weed
Bob with the beat. Mob with team
I'm wanna be next up I'm not, but I might be
All the way to the top now sight see
Sit back I'm chillin like an ICEE
Spectators be yapping on some Bob Costa shit
I ain't just talking shit, I'm Marcus Vick
Without the Heisman Trophy but
With the Hawaiian Sophies
Frequent flyer
Hmmm, I don't even wanna fuckin do this song for real, but I wouldn't be real if I didn't
I be sittin' by myself and I be thinkin' mama what have
It's funny how it comes full circle
Now they wanna be a part of the power circle
They wanna be a part of the power circle
May the wind be at your back
to get her ass smacked like Keri Hilson
I'm The one, who you tryin'a be?
Nothing to hide, the jimmy covers up my Tommy Lee
The one, I stage dive
[Game]
She call me Jay, I call her B,
We getting married, to the streets.
I'm chasing money, she chasing me.
I'm right where I wanna be,
With the B
clothes and
Slammin' shots and marry a man
Who wanna do a shot? (we do)
I'm gonna get fucked up (me too)
We came for a week, we the kings of the beach
phone
I could hear it in her voice, know she just wasn't alone
Then a voice I didn't recognize
Said, "If you wanna' see your wife alive bring a million
clothes and
Slammin' shots and marry a man
Who wanna do a shot? (we do)
I'm gonna get fucked up (me too)
We came for a week, we the kings of the beach
Burn your lungs down, kill your loved ones, eat your heart out
Goose is homesick, bob the head back, time for me to forget that
The red carpet is
on
Don't wanna look at me y'all crazy
Alpha Omega, the NRBO baby
I'm so authentic that they don't think your boy did it
They must be at their nooders that
the federals, owww
Kadoish, kadoish, kadoish
Adonia
'Tsebayoth
It's B.O.B and I'm out,
Peace
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