RZA - Must Be Bobby lyrics

Bo-bby bo-bby bo-bby bo-bby
Bo-bby bo-bby bo-bby
Bo-bby bo-bby bo-bby bo-bby

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 mill a year's 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)