Lyrics:
to the metal
I'm rugged and rough for Cocoa Puffs, and yes, I love my Fruity Pebbles
So howdy, my partner, I starts to get meaner
So ask Bob for hope, nope,
Zaytoven bang, bang, bang bang
All this weed I smoke I think I'm Bob Marley
(Dope)
I got a ounce in the motherfuckin' party (Oh)
Baby, please don't
five rounds (shots)
My forty-five got me fortified with live rounds
When shit's thick we plot hits, when our Glock spits
All hail, out on bail, wrath
Three passports, Three first class tickets to the money
Straight flights
I live by the cold war
Drove from round the globe
All I need is
that lowrider
I can't leave a witness (Brr)
Touchdown in Cali' by the Bay
All I see is bridges (Whew, whew)
We ain't even finished
Green on me like I'm
soul for sale
Bob right bob left
Do it by the books
This line ain't the fucking chorus homie its a hook
Coming from right under here let's get it shook
this sleighing song
Just get a bob-tailed bay
Two-forty for his speed
Hitch him to an open sleigh and crack, you'll take the lead
Oh, jingle bells,
motherfuckers expect shit from
Try to talk down to me but i do this shit effortlessly
Pockets be getting real fat call be dutch cause i'm am an with a plan
Yeah
a charlatan
They dread me
Like Bob Marley barber did
I like to get brain
Like a Harvard kid (ay)
How many fucks you think I give?
Multiply dat shit by zero
I’m
Marley's
Yea top shotta I'm rolling wit madmax we Been them shottas the hashtag
I like a girl wit a fat ass but scratch that feeling unstoppable
40 Caliber
to the metal
I'm rugged and rough for Cocoa Puffs, and yes, I love my Fruity Pebbles
So howdy, my partner, I starts to get meaner
So ask Bob for hope, nope,
to the metal
I'm rugged and rough for Cocoa Puffs, and yes, I love my Fruity Pebbles
So howdy, my partner, I starts to get meaner
So ask Bob for hope, nope,
40 K
60 K
80 K
100 K
40 K
60 K
80 K
100 K
There's hella bad bitches gettin' easy money
Not a gentleman, have these women acting funny
Shawty ass
I can hear
Wow
I'm not deaf
Thank you for 40 cents
Touching women like I'm Bob
Sending out the mob
Mopping up the floor
Yeah Max is poor, 47 cents in
medicinal man made medical marijuana
With a phase plasma rifle like I'm searchin' for Sarah Conner
And shorty's got brains, shorty not playin'
I'm 40 blocks
TT, ayy
I'm TT, ayy
I'm gettin' tree tree, gettin' head by Keke
Ayy, Nini with me, and she sittin' pretty
And she sing like Whitney, ayy,
workload (heavy workload)
40 on the main road
I'm there whatever the weather
Bad one over here named Esther
Bad one over there named Rebecca (becca)
I'm
sucker for his money
It's so funny
Cars ride by, with the boomin' system
Sayin, "Leave him alone, my man already dissed him"
Now I'm
grow
Write some bars and watch you suck on my big toe
Bobby Taylor on the mic
(sneaky beaky like)
They call me fat Bobs cus' that is my name (woo)
fat
Shots for a bitch nigga, get the fuck back (fuck back)
Double homi's if I'm slidin' with MAC (slidin' with MAC)
Whole gang with me booted off
It's like I live a double life
I'm feeling like I'm 40
Kids and a troubled wife
They wake up by the side
Wonder what the day becomes
I dance between my
forty-eight bars with no hook (come on)
You hear me flippin' through my pages out my favorite notebook (yeah)
The microphone was in the closet (What?) No
forty-eight bars with no hook (come on)
You hear me flippin' through my pages out my favorite notebook (yeah)
The microphone was in the closet (What?) No
[E-40]
You got the beat turned up in my ear a little mo'?
(Aight) Let's go
Uhh, a little more volume pimp YEAH, okay
Just tell me when... yeah
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