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letra de bobby’s theme - phat rob

i know the k!llers, the robbers riding with pocket rockets
pull up on the block to retrieve the gwuap & then split the profit
i know the dealers that’s living swell off of nose candy
hand to hand be transactions, fiends acting fine & dandy
i know the master of disguise on a robbery
pulling up with a different image some rough sh-t
dirty sweatpants, rolled up at the knee caps
dirty white-t, dirty white sneaks, some bum sh-t
first class ticket to heaven, treat them like pelicans
& fly birdie, for lying to me makes you a jive turkey
i got ways to persuade your b-tch to do you dirty
head game crazy, the mind disturbing she 7.30
she know that bobby a fly guy in a wide body
i look like a puerto rican israel kamakawiwoʻole
tryna live great though, somewhere over the rainbow
when i get this cake though, the jakes gon try to surprise me
they think i’m in the streets, cause hood n-ggas never make it
on a legit tip, but stereotyping is hating
plot thick like fruit drink, berry blast naked
brag fly sh-t, my new b-tch, very bad naked
(my new b-tch, very bad naked)

hotter than a kettle, i be burning it down
yo this that hot sh-t, to vibe with
hotter than a kettle, i be burning it down
yo this that hot sh-t, to vibe with
prefer to use description as hot sh-t to describe this
& the cure to the wack sh-t they rapping now i prescribe this
life ain’t no c-ckpit, i don’t need a co-captain
y’all acting, do a lot of chit chatting, no action
i’m macking, sipping coke c-cktails, with the coaster napkins
lighting cuban smokes with matches, mack sh-t scr-w-ng hoes in batches
visual in my mind is critical, it’s too sick for you
to picture thinking with a mind that’s bat sh-t a tad bit
bate you into feeling this misery, no katherine
keep it real like new era hats is, but no capping
fake sh-t is disgracing, i’m bout to start flipping
like the project kids is, on the streets on a broke mattress
rougher that a smoker’s ho-rs- voice, throat scratching
rougher than a psychopathic pirate boat’s captain
product of the environment i was rising in
i grew up like a plant in the ghetto garden’s of andrew jackson
(my new b-tch, very bad naked)

hotter than a kettle, i be burning it down
yo this that hot sh-t, to vibe with

- phat rob

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