Kool Keith

Kool Keith - Bob Boss lyrics

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[Kool Keith:] 

New York City, Bronx 

Bob Boss, Bob Boss, Bob Boss, Bob Boss 



[Chorus: x2] 

Bob Boss, Bob Boss, Bob Boss, Bob Boss 



[Kool Keith:] 

Critics wait for me to drop, sit on the toilet and doo doo 

Men write for magazines with G-strings 

I'm not a Chicago bully, ask Phil 

I got seven rings, the championship crown 

Exhaust pipes, everything you let out your butt is brown 

The enemas I give bring the paparazzis around 

That sets me up for the cover of Vibe 

Shake hands on the court 

Touch your sandwich after I play with my penis 

Where's your startin five 

Who want Bob Couse, who wanna make Bob news 

To match me you gotta pay Bob dues 

I bring an NBA four with a dumb construction book 

to the kids in your high school 

Battle me son you must be high fool 

With skinny legs disappearin from the cocaine 

Your biceps smaller than your chain 

There's a CBA team that might take you 

You need protein, and food 

Go home the power forwards and centers break you 

Rub your face against the fiberglass 

The coliseum's jam-packed 

You can't rhyme your way out of a tiger's ass 



[Chorus] 



[Kool Keith:] 

Girls want that massage 

The man with the Dick Tracy Stetson 

Bad kids I send you to the dean 

The El Brothers rock the lime green 

Sheepskin Tyra Banks at the Ecstasy Garage 

Theodore on the turntables 

Bob Couse from Prospect Park, with mean jeans 

Ask Herc if he gon' let these rookies rock right now 

They fans on my cock right now 

I like the way you scramble and work kid 

But I gotta shut down your block right now 

You heard the boss, I said stop right now 

My team used to catch you in the Cisco Fever 

Your chain and watch on my neck 

There's more guys like B.O. in the Bronx 

Ask Sal, about my perfection 

When the projects wait for superstars 

With super cars comin out the T connection 

Mess with me you be the first man with a C-section 



[Chorus] 



[Kool Keith:] 

Now they gon' wear the aprons and stack pancakes they fakes 

I'm the righthand man of Lenny, seven million cash 

Who you think own the Ultimate Breaks? 

Move with ultimate cakes, girls taste the gunpowder 

Somebody gon' kill y'all, I heard y'all sellin flour 

Golden seal, big substitutes, that's sugar you movin 

I make you eat my boogers 



[Chorus] 



Bob Boss, Bob Boss, Bob Boss...
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Language: English

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