Zobacz utwór: Must be Bobby

RZA - Must be Bobby

Tekst :

Bo-bby.. Bo-bby.. Bo-bby..
Bo-bby..
Bo-bby.. Bo-bby.. Bo-bby..
Bo-bby.. Bo-bby.. Bo-bby.. Bo-bby..

[RZA]
Psssh. Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo! {*Bobby Digital sound*}
Yo.. Bobby
Yo, yo, RZA Bobby
Yo, yo, RZA Bobby
B-Bobby, yo
Hit the bodega for a 40 ounce son, Garcia Vega
Two bags of chips, and one pack of Now & Laters
Flame tucked down to my nuts, on my last buck
Only thing keep a nigga calm is a good fuck
Loose-leaf cigarettes be dipped in wet
Chicken of the seas get trapped inside my net
with their clothes off, son when the gun goes off
I m bound to play Napoleon, and blow a nose off -
your Sphinx; your stumble rap style, your flow s off
like Kunta, tryin to run with his chopped toes off
Unchallenged sword I yield the storm rider
Clip full of ruffled-tip fast-actin long fire
Four hundred grain cartridge, with steel casin
Those who can t draw the crowd is still tracin
The mic is cast to the floor and shapeshifted
Heavy as the hammer of Thor you can t lift it
So tense, bitch there s no defense
This four-four inch ll make you jump the fence
Right eye squinted; I speak brok-len english
Stumble off the cold four-oh of Olde English Wu brew
Two-two inside the shoe
No describin what this heat, in my jacket could do
I teach, seeds to read, never reach for the weed indeed
Bow down to the great Bob Digi Digi

(Bo-bby..) Yo, it must be Bobby
(Bo-bby..) Oh, no, it must be Bobby
(Bo-bby..) Oh, no, it must be Bobby
(Bo-bby..) Oh, no, it must be..

I rice soaked in coconut milk mixed with tofu
Sit in the sun six hours then I charge up like Goku
Dragonball Z; imagine you re raggin me
That s like walkin through a Blood hood flaggin a C
Not, tryin to tell you how much weight we carry
It may get, every snake in the tri-state buried
Plus, Feds had one add, sayin I gun traffed
I sold twenty million records bitch; some laugh!
Fresh shafts of morning dew on Nancy Drew
Sherlock Holmes crime sleuth couldn t figure the Wu
You loaf of bread head, keep a sober head
One point five million years my overhead

(Bo-bby..) Yo, yo, it must be Bobby
(Bo-bby..) Yo, yo, it must be Bobby
(Bo-bby..) Oh, no, it must be Bobby
(Bo-bby..) Yo, check, yo

I keep MC s puzzled keep my dogs in the muzzle
Ice cold forty ounce drink em down with one guzzle
Son might spit a word at a bird, see if she chirp back
Tall chocolate deluxe buttercup, off the meat rack
A chickenhead scratch the yard for worms
And roosters walk around with their heads in the perm
I be spreadin knowledge keepin my third eye polished
Never, chase for dollars to fulfill the black wallet
You must be Bellevue son I walk with twelve jewels
Afford anything this world could sell you
Beats that the change the style ll rearrange ya
BZA-Bobby! I m strikin you like Beatlemania

Yo, it must be Bobby
Oh, no, it must be Bobby
Yo, son, it must be Bobby
BZA-buh, BZA-wha , BZA-Bobby
(Bo-bby..) Fuckin up the mic is still my hobby
(Bo-bby..) F-fuckin up the mic is still my hobby
(Bo-bby..) Yo, yo, it must be.. doo doo!
(Bo-bby..) Yeah yeah

(Bo-bby..) - {*repeat to fade*}