Must Be Bobby

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!
 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.) -