Lyrics:
"Whatcha been thinkin bout?"
Bob said : "Thats the point. I won't think bout nothing.
Now I gotta do something else
(Oi! Oi! Oi!)
To pass the time
Oh, Bob, bring me mints
And bring back the tropical mix
It sells for six hundred dollars
On websites I won't click
Bring back the grape
Bring back
like a hazmat
When I lay it down
Get money like it's Aflac
4 lit like B.o.B
Talkin my shit like i'm T.I.P
What that mean i'm a king of oneself
Let that
'm not gassed up
I swear I won't tax you
I swear opps won't slide thru
Bitch I won't spill my juice
You know me way to welch
Don't think your wave gone
blues
Down a secondary road that
Severely shows it's age
The forties comes to life
On a makeshift stage
It's the Bob Roberts Society Band
Playing every
first 8-Ball at 120
Broke it drown and flipped it for 3
Did it a couple times, flipped OZs
From there, I was on my way keys
Got saved by the rap game
Woah, woah, wassup, wassup
Thanks for having me, I appreciate it
Thank you for stopping by
I see you got our voicemail, too cool to answer the phone
Yeah
this shit by myself
I juiced up on these niggas just like some welch
I remember they ain't wanna show support
Now I ball & I ain't gotta play a sport
I
really ‘gotta ask
Let me count it up, ‘ion even see the math, I anticipate the moment it's a thing of the past
For me to get by, I really wish that I could
"Whatcha been thinkin bout?"
Bob said : "Thats the point. I won't think bout nothing.
Now I gotta do something else
(Oi! Oi! Oi!)
To pass the time
I wanna play at
Red Hat and Walnut Creek
Where people gotta stand ‘cause I sold out the seats
Where people wave their hands and bob their heads to my
ya'll interrupt
Hit you girl by mistake nigga
Wasn't even in my plan at all
I told homie I hit it there
These niggas wanna be planned all
Knowing that
Shaggy alongside Bob Sinclar
The lovely Sahara
ha ha ha ha
Ladies lets make love on the dancefloor
I wanna feel
I wanna hold
I wanna touch
a Harley (oh shit)
I'm just tryna to smoke a blunt, no Bacardi
Doin' a buck eighty in my new 'Rari (vroom)
Roll up, spark up, like I'm Bob Marley
Get high
anything
In our council estate as more an aspiration
To poshness
I was always pained by the fact that I was not a time lord
Nor a Pet Shop Boy
And looking
I can’t let another hoe
Think she can run game on me
Got distracted by the pussy
Imma Put the blame on me
If I gotta make a move to get it
That’s
Yeah i do it for the sport
For the sport haha
Uh jammin', jammin’
Jammin' like Bob Marley's cousin
Pop yo bitches stomach while
You fucking cuddling
Real G's move in silence like gnocchi
Made an Asian bitch cream like mochi
She wanna eat oysters by the ocean
If I ain't drinking champagne then I
Hook:2x
This gone make ya bob ya head & groove & this gone lift ya spirits up that's true & this gone make ya wanna 2 step & move said this gone be
my friend and my friend's name is Bob
Like the devil knows hell, I know Bob that well
Well enough to tell you 'bout his sixty-seven smells
Well enough
Dey face Yee
Them Dey motivate me
Won lon underrate me
Ema foju kere mi
Shey na by age ni
Shey na by age ni
I notice nobody Dey reason me
BOB won ma
blow by, I'm getting' you high
Bob Nesta said it best everything will be all right
Introspect connect the sect's and let this music make you fly
Close
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
Jim Pons (bass, vocals, dialog)
Bob Harris (keyboards, vocals)
Don Preston (mini-moog)
You are... you gotta tell me something... I
welcome
And this for everyone that having doubt i hope this your jam welchs
I been sipping with my sibling
Told him i been sinking feeling distant
He said
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