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, Vega
Two of chips, and one pack of Now and Laters
Flame tucked down to my nuts, on my last
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 clothes off, son when the gun off
I'm bound to play Napoleon, and blow a off

Your Sphinx, your rap style, your flow's off
Like Kunta, tryin' to run with his chopped off
Unchallenged I yield the storm rider
Clip full of ruffled-tip fast-actin' long
Four hundred grain cartridge, with steel
Those who draw the crowd is still tracin'
The mic is cast to the floor and
Heavy as the hammer of Thor you can't it

So tense, bitch there's no
This four-four inch'll make you jump the
Right eye squinted; I brok-len English
Stumble off the cold four-oh of old Wu brew
inside the shoe
No what this heat, in my jacket could do
I teach, seeds to read, never reach for the weed
Bow down to the Bob Digi Digi

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

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

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

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

I keep MC's puzzled my dogs in the muzzle
Ice cold forty ounce drink 'em with one guzzle
Son might a word at a bird, see if she chirp back
Tall deluxe buttercup, off the meat rack
A scratch the yard for worms
And roosters walk around with their heads in the
I be knowledge keepin' my third eye polished
Never, chase for dollars to the black wallet

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

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

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