Lyrics:
move forward by the aid of symbols
and we change those symbols as we move forward.
Who said that? Is there an echo in here? A catalectic tetrameter
always throw set up
Said we left a nigga but his bitch was the real set up
Plugged em by the 4 he said I'm showing love
I shoulda taxed em moe I ain't
Bob Shane/Tom Drake/Miriam Stafford
Chorus:
Run Molly, run (oh, Molly). Run Molly, run. Long John's gonna beat you, beneath the shinin' sun.
Long
selling it
Got a little bit of post-impressionism
Neoclassical, surrealism, art nouveau, oh
But if you hit me with a host of questions
Quizzing, be all
tomorrow
If the world blows up, I'mma stand on stars
Stand on stars
I might land on Mars, I'm so in touch I'm handling bars
The way Bob Ross paints his
can only agree
And somehow I saw Bob with a knife
And he was ready to do it
He was ready to end his life
I hugged him, begged him not to continue
head to toe like I was Bob
Bob the builder baby
I be dirty dancin wit these hoes like I'm Pat Swayze
But I could lob a bitch off to the gang call me Tom
to the gwuap
Baby A hit his head, I was aimin' for his chest
I'm only gettin' to this bag, I ain't worry about the rest
Jumpin' out the load ain't no need for
shit hits the fan, I Ron Artest niggas
This how I'm living getting tatted in some house slippers
I like my bitches simple laid back relax, it's mental
you with my wang
Ya know what I'm saying?
I stuck her with my wang
She hit me in the balls
I grabbed her by her neck
And I bounced her off the walls
She
batarang and hit her right in the head
She went out like a light I said oh man what a night
I took her to the station and they locked her up tight
Days Of 49
~~~~~~~~~~
Im old tom moore from the bummers shore in that good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares
through you
It's like inch by inch and step by step
I'm closing in on your position and destruction is my mission
Though eight is not enough, your
Head she got a long tongue
Guns start singing like Bone Thugs-N-Harmony
Bullets rang out he got hit up in his artery
I got a light skin bitch
She look
Fix my eyes on the cross
Fix my eyes on the boss
I ain't tryna flop no
Wait my time get the gwop
Build my house call me bob
Ya dun know
Spit hard
ourselves
We can't babble no more than we can bob our head offbeat
Nimrod by the time we forty cause we can't get off meat
While we ask no reason for
ourselves
We can't babble no more than we can bob our head offbeat
Nimrod by the time we forty cause we can't get off meat
While we ask no reason for
to the kick drum to snare hit then the finger snap then the head bobs then the toes tap
Then finger the notes and neXt pluck the strings and hear voices sing
I ain't dropping stacks, I'm dropping knowledge
Unless it's for my nieces and nephews to go to college
And hit me on the phone, hit me up
Like
around to it
My life is hanging by a thread
Bob your head 'till the last note hits
We're feeling fine for the sake of it
We made a bet, then we forfeited
heard a noise
And as he turned his head
Well, the bullet killed him dead
Fired by Bob Ford, one of the boys
Poor Jesse had a wife
She lived
a child, that's how I play it
Watchin' toons while gettin' head, Backyardigans inside my bed
Then I switch to Bob the Builder, take a bitch then body build
Woke up on Monday to the news that Peaches was dead
Like most everyone, I thought about Bob and how he'd lose his head
You wonder how many times
smithy of damnation
Sometimes heated by his love
For his power and his gold.
Inside there was his humble little clerk,
His peddling name was Bob Cratchit,
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