Luyện nghe bài hát Must Be Bobby

Bo-bby, Bo-bby,

Bo-bby, Bo-bby,
Bo-bby, Bo-bby, Bo-bby,

Yo,
Yo, yo, RZA
Yo, yo, RZA
B-Bobby, yo

Hit the bodega for a 40 ounce son, Garcia
Two bags of chips, and one pack of Now and
Flame tucked to my nuts, on my last buck
Only thing keep a calm is a good fuck
Loose-leaf cigarettes be in wet
of the seas get trapped inside my net
With their off, son when the gun goes off
I'm to play Napoleon, and blow a nose off

Your Sphinx, stumble rap style, your flow's off
Like Kunta, tryin' to run with his toes off
Unchallenged sword I yield the rider
full of ruffled-tip fast-actin' long fire
Four grain cartridge, with steel casin'
Those who can't the crowd is still tracin'
The mic is to the floor and shapeshifted
Heavy as the hammer of you can't lift it

So tense, bitch there's no
This four-four inch'll make you jump the
Right eye I speak brok-len English
Stumble off the four-oh of old English Wu brew
inside the shoe
No describin' what this heat, in my jacket do
I teach, seeds to read, reach for the weed indeed
Bow down to the great Bob Digi

Yo, it must be
Oh, no, it must be
Oh, no, it be Bobby
Oh, no, it be

I keep rice soaked in milk mixed with Tofu
Sit in the sun six hours I charge up like Goku
Dragonball Z, imagine you're me
That's walkin' through a Blood hood flaggin' a C
Not, tryin' to tell you how much weight we
It may get, every snake in the tri-state
Plus, had one add, sayin' I gun traffed
I twenty million records bitch, some laugh

Fresh shafts of morning dew on Drew
Sherlock Holmes crime sleuth couldn't the Wu
You loaf of bread head, keep a sober
One point five million years my

Yo, yo, it must be
Yo, yo, it must be
Oh, no, it be Bobby
Yo, check, yo

I keep puzzled keep my dogs in the muzzle
Ice cold forty ounce 'em down with one guzzle
Son might spit a at a bird, see if she chirp back
Tall chocolate deluxe buttercup, off the meat
A chickenhead scratch the for worms
And roosters walk around with heads in the perm
I be spreadin' keepin' my third eye polished
Never, chase for to fulfill the black wallet

You be Bellevue son I walk with twelve jewels
Afford anything this world sell you
that the change the style'll rearrange ya
BZA-Bobby! I'm you like Beatlemania

Yo, it be Bobby
Oh, no, it must be
Yo, son, it must be
BZA-buh, BZA-wha',

Fuckin' up the mic is my hobby
F-fuckin' up the mic is my hobby
Yo, yo, it be
Yeah