Bo-bby.. Bo-bby.. Bo-bby..

Bo-bby..

Bo-bby.. Bo-bby.. Bo-bby..

Bo-bby.. Bo-bby.. Bo-bby.. Bo-bby..



[RZA]

Psssh. Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo! {*Bobby Digital sound*}

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



(Bo-bby..) Yo, it must be Bobby

(Bo-bby..) Oh, no, it must be Bobby

(Bo-bby..) Oh, no, it must be Bobby

(Bo-bby..) 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



(Bo-bby..) Yo, yo, it must be Bobby

(Bo-bby..) Yo, yo, it must be Bobby

(Bo-bby..) Oh, no, it must be Bobby

(Bo-bby..) 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

(Bo-bby..) Fuckin up the mic is still my hobby

(Bo-bby..) F-fuckin up the mic is still my hobby

(Bo-bby..) Yo, yo, it must be.. doo doo!

(Bo-bby..) Yeah yeah



(Bo-bby..) - {*repeat to fade*}




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