CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : Bob’s Dementia
Bob's dementia
Chapter one
Now here lies a great man, a man of the people
A man of the people, people (Yeah, oh)
Yeah, here he comes, it's the highly unprofessional
Hyper sexual, intellectual
Fried my brain, now I've become a vegetable
Travel with a gang of weird lookin' extraterrestrials (Mi-mi-mi-mi)
They left me on their ship and made their b*t*hes call me "General"
The d**k quake could make a b*t*h shake like she got Parkinson's
You out there politickin', I'm studyin' Darwinism (God)
I keep some bars and hit 'em like a hard collision (Bang)
Don't f**k around it's murder in this art exhibit
And I got the whole game on paralyzed 'cause my volume on amplified
It's slow as a biracial b*t*h that's waitin' on her hair to dry (I don't wanna go yet)
Are you prepared to die? Burnin' this Ameri-fry
Where people that protect you are the ones that have you terrified
I only act this way 'cause my soul so broken
I'm the illest that you know, you a low dose Motrin
Laryngitis, hepatitis, the AIDS virus
I guess that's what you get from bein' 'round a bunch of rat vaginas
And you (And you), you pu**y I wouldn't f**k with, a drunk d**k
The day I came back from being hostage to the Russian mob
Missin' a finger and see my brother shot (Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa)
I'm comin' for your neck, so hide your head inside your mother's box (Motherf**ker)
It still ain't cliche to say, "f**k the cops" (No)
Let's try it ("f**k the cops")
'Cause I just smoked a bunch of rocks and walked around in just my socks
And made myself a birthday cake with caramel and butterscotch
Chapter one
Now here lies a great man, a man of the people
A man of the people, people (Yeah, oh)
Yeah, here he comes, it's the highly unprofessional
Hyper sexual, intellectual
Fried my brain, now I've become a vegetable
Travel with a gang of weird lookin' extraterrestrials (Mi-mi-mi-mi)
They left me on their ship and made their b*t*hes call me "General"
The d**k quake could make a b*t*h shake like she got Parkinson's
You out there politickin', I'm studyin' Darwinism (God)
I keep some bars and hit 'em like a hard collision (Bang)
Don't f**k around it's murder in this art exhibit
And I got the whole game on paralyzed 'cause my volume on amplified
It's slow as a biracial b*t*h that's waitin' on her hair to dry (I don't wanna go yet)
Are you prepared to die? Burnin' this Ameri-fry
Where people that protect you are the ones that have you terrified
I only act this way 'cause my soul so broken
I'm the illest that you know, you a low dose Motrin
Laryngitis, hepatitis, the AIDS virus
I guess that's what you get from bein' 'round a bunch of rat vaginas
And you (And you), you pu**y I wouldn't f**k with, a drunk d**k
The day I came back from being hostage to the Russian mob
Missin' a finger and see my brother shot (Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa)
I'm comin' for your neck, so hide your head inside your mother's box (Motherf**ker)
It still ain't cliche to say, "f**k the cops" (No)
Let's try it ("f**k the cops")
'Cause I just smoked a bunch of rocks and walked around in just my socks
And made myself a birthday cake with caramel and butterscotch
