Текст, перевод и аккорды “Bob Boss”
- [Kool Keith] New York City, Bronx Bob Boss, Bob Boss, Bob Boss, Bob Boss [Chorus: repeat 2X] Bob Boss, Bob Boss, Bob Boss, Bob Boss [Kool Keith] Critics wait for me to drop, sit on the toilet and doo doo Men write for magazines with G-strings I'm not a Chicago bully, ask Phil I got seven rings, the championship crown Exhaust pipes, everything you let out your butt is brown The enemas I give bring the paparazzis around That sets me up for the cover of Vibe Shake hands on the court Touch your sandwich after I play with my penis Where's your startin five Who want Bob Couse, who wanna make Bob news To match me you gotta pay Bob dues I bring an NBA four with a dumb construction book to the kids in your high school Battle me son you must be high fool With skinny legs disappearin from the cocaine Your biceps smaller than your chain There's a CBA team that might take you You need protein, and food Go home the power forwards and centers break you Rub your face against the fiberglass The coliseum's jam-packed You can't rhyme your way out of a tiger's ass [Chorus] [Kool Keith] Girls want that massage The man with the Dick Tracy Stetson Bad kids I send you to the dean The El Brothers rock the lime green Sheepskin Tyra Banks at the Ecstasy Garage Theodore on the turntables Bob Couse from Prospect Park, with mean jeans Ask Herc if he gon' let these rookies rock right now They fans on my cock right now I like the way you scramble and work kid But I gotta shut down your block right now You heard the boss, I said stop right now My team used to catch you in the Cisco Fever Your chain and watch on my neck There's more guys like B.O. in the Bronx Ask Sal, about my perfection When the projects wait for superstars With super cars comin out the T connection Mess with me you be the first man with a C-section [Chorus] [Kool Keith] Now they gon' wear the aprons and stack pancakes they fakes I'm the righthand man of Lenny, seven million cash Who you think own the Ultimate Breaks? Move with ultimate cakes, girls taste the gunpowder Somebody gon' kill y'all, I heard y'all sellin flour Golden seal, big substitutes, that's sugar you movin I make you eat my boogers [Chorus] Bob Boss, Bob Boss, Bob Boss...
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