Lyrics:
thirteen year old boobs
I'd hang out by the junior
High like my dad does
Tom: Hey
You know what I learned in fifth grade?
Mark: What's that
Your dad has
Well it's B.o.B., flyer than a stewardess
Fresh to death like I'm dressed for a eulogy
My outfit's retarded, my flow is the stupidest, dumb
I'll
Should have held back, but you throwed the punch
'Spose to meet your girl but you packed a lunch
No D to the U to the G for you
Got a son on the way by
Should have held back, but you throwed the punch
'Spose to meet your girl but you packed a lunch
No D to the U to the G for you
Got a son on the way by
Should have held back, but you throwed the punch
'Spose to meet your girl but you packed a lunch
No D to the U to the G for you
Got a son on the way by
the thrills
Blessed by bob that shits for real
We fly high to the sky to the stars
Would you ever dream of life beyond mars
I would never cheat when I write my
will make you bob a while
Grab a cutie, Duke her Bootee, bust a ?? box
That's my duty, girl please do me, don't try to cock block
Give nuff respect, I
to hit something
Bombs over Baghdad
Uno, dos, tres, it's on
Did you ever think a pimp rock a microphone?
Like that there Boi and will still stay
you
(B.O.B. don't get freaky with you)
B.O.B. don't turn it around and make the bed bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, like I do
You need that real
nigga's lung like he was a bandit
Vas-y suce mon flow, vas-y suce mon bob, vas-y suce mon équipe
Vas-y suce mon flow, vas-y suce mon bob, vas-y suce mon
But first, I'd like you to meet my friend Bob (huh?)
Say hi, Bob (hi, Bob) Bob's thirty and still lives with his mom
And he don't got a job, 'cause
But first, I'd like you to meet my friend Bob (huh?)
Say hi, Bob (hi, Bob) Bob's thirty and still lives with his mom
And he don't got a job, 'cause
Dobalina, Mr. Bob Dobalina
Mista Dobalina, Mr. Bob Dobalina
Mr. Bob Dobalina
Mista Dobalina, Mr. Bob Dobalina
Mista Bob Dobalina, won't you quit?
You
Dobalina, Mr. Bob Dobalina
Mista Dobalina, Mr. Bob Dobalina
Mr. Bob Dobalina
Mista Dobalina, Mr. Bob Dobalina
Mista Bob Dobalina, won't you quit?
You
on, bob that head
Bob that head
Hot girl wants a ride
Climbs up inside
Feelin' that rhythm
Right along with him
Now he's cruisin'
Don't want to lose it
to school with
Yea this that real shit
Baby girl whats good
You need to leave that lame shit
And smoke
Bob Marley
Bob Marley
Bob Marley
Bob Marley
Said
on the track
So say what you like, you just givin' me gas
So by now, I got enough to drive to Venus and back
So I'ma
[Chorus - B.o.B]
Make a lot of money
(Make
to bring a kilo, if i'm a match it (Ohh!)
The way I smoke this purp, you think i'm Bob Marley (Bob Marley)
When I smile I make million, Steve Harvey (When I
would Bob do?
I was knocking on the pearly gates, made of precious stone
Looked kind of other worldly, inside there was a throne
I was let in by
a monster
Bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla
Tom Tom like in Lebanon
Hotter than in Pakistan
Click click click young nick, the atomic bomb
Yeah, see ya
playin’, know shit pissed you
Didn't mean no issue
Hard pain you better grab a tissue (better a grab a tissue bitch)
Guess no nigga melt you like I treat
Bottleneck Bob is riding fast
Wanted by the law for the freight train blast
The sheriff and his men is a big bad mob
And they're chasing poor old
guitar bum whose name I never knew
Old School Nashville, Harlan Howard, Bob McDill
Tom T Hall go drink your fill and blow us all away
There was this
slipped
The Mac is cuttin records and punks are gettin ripped
Gangster I am, bust the lyrics like a drive-by
You wanna sleep? Well, it's lights out,
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