B.o.b.b.y Lyrics - Rza As Bobby Digital In Stereo - Rza

Bobby, Bobby, Bobby 

Bobby 

Bobby, Bobby, Bobby 

Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby 

Psssh. Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo! 

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 

(Bobby) Yo, it must be Bobby 

(Bobby) Oh, no, it must be Bobby 

(Bobby) Oh, no, it must be Bobby 

(Bobby) Oh, no, it must be 

I keep 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 

(Bobby) Yo, yo, it must be Bobby 

(Bobby) Yo, yo, it must be Bobby 

(Bobby) Oh, no, it must be Bobby 

(Bobby) 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 

(Bobby) Fuckin up the mic is still my hobby 

(Bobby) F-fuckin up the mic is still my hobby 

(Bobby) Yo, yo, it must be.. doo doo! 

(Bobby) Yeah yeah