Lyrics:
Pullin' up with my hitman (skrrt)
Stay armed like a wristband
I don't kick it with no hoe
If you wanna kick it get a kickstand (fuck off)
All
Cheer up, it might never happen
Drive-by shootings on the streets of Clapham
Jackboots booting right across the map
And daddy's gone 'a looking
of funk
You get get crushed like you gave big pun the top bunk
So shut the fuck up, Funkoars pound the stage until the floor breaks
So get the fuck
at the ranch, take a chance
On this funky head bob that's gonna make you dance
Now even the funky chickens who can make up on the twist came in
But do the chicken
niggas talking
Like they ready for drama
I shut em up and have they folk signing
Bout old as they mama
I got my homies Tri and Tae
Packing K's for Trae
the back i feel like michael phelps
Thick redbone i told her let me take a swim
I'm so flexed up & i ain't no where near a gym
Love that Glock but i'm a go
Words and music by Bob Hartman
The Levites returned with the Ark of the Lord
The presence and strength of the God they adored
The temple was shut
He just yells, "Shut the fuck up, bitch, this Tom guy is serious"
I hoped you would kill it, I'm always a optimist
Thought your response would be
They smile in your face, whole time wanna take your place
my circle get smaller by the day
can’t deal i just need my space
Trust ima always say
complaining and do something
Shut up
Rise up
Grow up
And show up
See you at the top
Let's do it
Way up way up
Way up way up (yeah)
Way up way up
Way up
All in
The AR-15 park his load like a Brembo
In a foreign coupe getting sucked up by a bimbo
Burn rubber on a bitch face I'm not sentimental
Young Hus from
Backwood full of moon rock
I'm where Mars at (Phew)
Tell a bitch
"Shut the fuck up" with her broke-ass
In that Transformer, big engine
Finna float past
up on niggas, hit em with a bob and weave
Redenbacher niggas I could tell you got some corny lines that ain't be poppin for me
Beat em up, like
one came back again
A lavish recycling trip
A delicate receivership
The granting of new jobs
Flesh covered thing-a-me-bobs
Head shots by dead shots
Shoulder to shoulder we stand
Verse 2
All races and all faces
one by one we gone make it
growing up in the hood they wont save us
but together we can win
come here boy, who likes the Skippy?
Who likes the Skippy peanut butter?"
This song is really hard to play (give it up for Tom)
It's really hard
can suck my dick
I got em whip like miracle
Ludacris lyrical fool
We dirty south
Shut up yo mouth
We rock jewels
No holds barred
But obey the block
or get smoked
We come by the masses you come and get choked
If you take me for a fool I'll take you for a joke
Tired of fast food so they cooked up dope
devise a tribe to try
Align the sides of pie we slice define em by the size they like
Plated up, in line by no one waits for us
Wav could lace the bass in
faded
By the time they find the body
Me and my deejay rock the block party
Deejay please rock the Bob Marley
Let's tap the keg and get started
This weed
premeditated
My alibi cannot be faded
By the time they find the body
Me and my deejay rock the block party
Deejay please rock the Bob Marley
Let's tap
up the recipe, stir up a conflict
Wait for the pan to simmer then begin
I mash a profit state of mind and I follow by Gandhi
If you are not original
altered it
Mess around and change
The language in the Matrix
Up up down down
Left right left right
B-a-b-a
100 Lives kid
That's how I reup
Empee switch
Nigga best play by the rules
Ain't dissin on bob I'm a builder but really hate using my tool
Everyone staring amazed by the way we walk into the room
Best
Discuss these shut up by bob tom Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In