Lyrics:
drank, bitch, I step in heels
God, my head hurt, I been poppin' so many damn pills
Now my bread hurt, I just bought a crib up in the Hills
Got a big body,
with the babble, with the chrome, with the lead
Cause when it's on, then it's on, the shots flowin' through your head
I been rich I been poor I saved
with the babble, with the chrome, with the lead
Cause when it's on, then it's on, the shots flowin' through your head
I been rich I been poor I saved
how I was infected by this Quimico
Que el problema sue tenemo es sinico
But Im going to put my head up here we go
Chorus:
Always remember you're
like Uncle Tom's
Like Louis Armstrong
Wearin a tattoo and goin onstage like Tracy Chapman
I cancelled a big tour cause I was prepared
Why'all
car bitch, so we got a red key
This ain't no regular grand Cherokee
Niggas be so tom with all that damn foolery
My nickname is bob with all this damn
cucurullo (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Tommy mars (keyboards, vocals)
Peter wolf (keyboards)
Bob harris (keyboards, trumpet,
of a man, purely
It's a sight to be seen
God-fearing and dipping with a minivan
"Thumbs up" while they're painting my portrait
Like a Bob Ross to "Beat
a Asian
Bet he feelin' in his chest for all that bullshit he was sayin
Put some money on your head, might shooter line em like a taper
I'm in that Johnny
touched by the razor cut
You feel the flurry huh, don't worry yo
You get cut by the razor, yo, yo, yo yo
The Wu rag tied around your head
When it come to head, that hoe better than Super
I'm gone
Wait, I think I'm made for this shit
I got the way with this shit
Grind everyday for this
Please don't look at my watch
I don't even wanna go outside
'Cause I got a bunch of fans on me
I feel like Bob Marley
I feel like Chris Farley
If I wind up
loud, maybe it's a little too late
Johnny's taking heads off of all faggots who hate
'Cause I'm a God, motherfucker, there's a price to pay
Yeah, I'm
loud, maybe it's a little too late
Johnny's taking heads off of all faggots who hate
'Cause I'm a God, motherfucker, there's a price to pay
Yeah, I'm
stick to the plan
No room for manoeuvre
Play by the book and change how we look
And keep our heads down
Still waiting for one big score
On the run from
to roll up, cowboy tradition
Or burn a Peace Pipe, and Cythe like the Injins
Or burn a big spliff, Bob Marley style
Buffalo Soldier, Rosta Farey style
looking for him
I'd play my little songs in the car next to you boo
She bob her head and say, "damn! Oh, that's you?"
But by the last anthem, I was feeling
If I drop another album I did that for my dogs
10 Maybach's everybody riding big
I just sit back like look what I did
Then I bow my head and beg for
here
The years rolled by and the Babys did come
A little Anna-Belle Lee, and her brother Tom
But then the droughts rolled in, and the hired hands went
figures
Got a red bone with dimples and her booty bigger
I'm a beast, I'm a dog, nigga call me Big Tigger
Got some skinny jeans on with a nice chain
Got
with the holy cross
Exotic niggaz blastin off to the Land of the Lost
If you can't see this
I recommend some school for the blind by Helen Keller
Big ups
on tha corner tryna make a livin'
Tryna make it back home, so we take a pistol
15, mug mean, we was big boys
Clutching on tha big toys, gamble wit' tha
a lot more shit
Than you could ever fathom
A big-head nigga
Couldn't even imagine
The shit I do
Most doers never done
I'ma fuck this beat
Ya bitch,
my head
My disappointment spreads far
My exasperation at these blatant imbeciles is caused by who they are
Now each of them is due a little humbling
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