Lyrics:
Let the rhythm hit 'em
I'm the arsenal, I got artillery, lyrics of ammo
Rounds of rhythm, then I'm 'a give 'em piano
Bring a bullet-proof vest,
what you're stealin'
Your open-wound style needed some healin'
You're stripped out by my flow
I'm glad you know behind
This spark I got the
Phattest
Bob
Like the devil knows hell
I know Bob well
Well enough to tell you
'bout his 67 smells
Well enough to tell you
He's a hell-a-swell fellow
Well
That's my friend and my friend's named Bob
Like the devil knows hell I know Bob well
Well enough to tell you 'bout his '67 smells
Well enough to tell
somebody like me's got to do
It's been a while since I paid my dues
Make my moves
That's the plan
Get into the rhythm
Now that's the jam
That's the man
Like
Monopoly, main economy
The governments mind cause atrocity it’s comedy
I don’t cop the nine I got my words flawlessly, Impossibly
Swung the bat hit yo brain
of an old grey blacktop, 33's just whistlin' by
Steer the wheel, one handed on a two lane, hugging that line
I got the windows down, no one else around
it cost to be clean?
Cause I have two Bob in my jeans
It's the return of the snapped one
Lurking and gurning, burning
Hurt when he's smashed, gone
find a rhythm
We were raised by the algorithm full grown tryna find a rhythm
Move to rhythm of the algorithm vision that's why you're on the run
Move
holiday, Bob Marley in y'all
Y'all feel most high when I be in y'all
System, with the rhythm I up jump the boogie
Shame I rely on record labels to push me
Living a day at a time be the rhythm that fit
That way I´m always quick to predict a glitch
Building a house brick by brick and bit by bit
Living
Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Bob Harris (boy soprano, trumpet)
Steve Vai
"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
got rhythm you're sure to succeed,
Rhythm is our business, business sure is swell.
He's the drummer man, in the band
Crosby's on the drums, in
to glisten
Put my faith up in a system
That consists of hooks n rhythms
Swear I'm gifted
They gon' think I'm twisted
They the victims
In my kingdom I'm a king
the night
Ma, I like the night (bitch-ass niggas take flight)
You want your gun I got your millimeter
I eat a sucka duck emcee to smoke blunts by
the Billie Holiday, Bob Marley in y'all
Y'all feel most high when I be in y'all
System, with the rhythm I up jump the boogie
Shame I rely on record labels
trust in the one
The son who's claiming he won
So bob ya head now, if you stuck in the slums
A put ya head down, when ya running from guns
They want ya
Like when Bob Marley and Sublime
Would be keeping me inspired
And I got this, this music,
Feeling like Jimi Hendrix up on the guitar and
I'm gonna take
inside
Feel the breeze blow by, I'm getting' you high
Bob Nesta said it best, everything will be all right
Introspect, connect the sects and let this
haters face down on the mat
Splat! Yeah I can make a green nigga mad
Quick, fast, flash like ten cash on his bitch ass
[B.O.B.]
You can tell I'm a G by
and the time is always right
And if God's good word goes unspoken, the music goes all night
And it goes
If I was Bob Marley I said could you be loved
If I
And straight to hell, got an impaled by the gates
So Satan stuck his face in an ashtray
While I sashayed around flames with a match and I gave him the gas face
song
I'ma get up, get up, yeah, yeah
You got me humming, humming to the beat of the drum
To the rhythm, rhythm, yeah, yeah
Your loving takes me
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