[Verse 1: Rob Roy]
Just a big boy
With a big bike
And a big bitch
With a big tight
Got my lips poked
Cause I sip life
Tell me when to go, got to get this right
Well I finna know cause it look just like
Limping and inching as if
As an infant
I'm distant, yet instant
Simultaneously - explain this to me
Maybe that's famous to be or
Maybe that ain't, but we'll see
Pick something, stick something in it
With the engine running
One hundred, two hundred
Three hundred miles on an empty stomach
I'm on it, been on it
Y'all just ain't in on it yet
Sho' nuff it's on the fence
Of the wrong home
If it's fixed or it fits
So hence, I'm exempt going:
[Hook: Rob Roy]
Pussy in my lap
Bird in the sack
Fur in my cap
Fur, fur in my cap
Exactly, go on and dap me
Whether that be at a track meet
Or actually, right here in back of me
If y'all catching the beat, then I'm glad to be-
Lieve in a thing called happening
But naturally, that ain't happily-
Ever-after, might last a week
In fact, it seems too fast to be
Bad to me, that could mean
One or two screws unfastening
That's blasphemy or fascinating
Depending on how I go about debating
It stands without saying - since I was finna
Not to be biased or the slightest sentimental
But if I ain't talking 'bout shooting things you could think
I was shootin blanks, 'til I sink in a little yelling:
[Hook: Rob Roy]
Pussy in my lap
Bird in the sack
Fur in my cap
Fur, fur in my cap
I'm trying to told you
But y'all is getting older
And getting closer to never getting over -
While I keep on getting swoller
Pretty soon, I'll leave this boulder
While boasting my boldest blues
To boost me into an orbit
Forging the course of the future
As an institution of proven truth
Or at least its ruins
Until I'm ruined
Yet that's assuming that my seam's undoing
And while it seems inhuman
I do intend to pursue this end
As a means of tuning in through the lens
Of the newest trends
And I got that latest, latest
Tasteless made in my homeboy basement
With an 808 bass kick to fade
The whip into shades of make-up
For the sake of making a face
With a blanket statement
In place of a major facelift
In layman's terms
Let us learn by saying:
[Hook: Rob Roy]
Pussy in my lap
Bird in the sack
Fur in my cap
Fur, fur in my cap
Just a big boy
With a big bike
And a big bitch
With a big tight
Got my lips poked
Cause I sip life
Tell me when to go, got to get this right
Well I finna know cause it look just like
Limping and inching as if
As an infant
I'm distant, yet instant
Simultaneously - explain this to me
Maybe that's famous to be or
Maybe that ain't, but we'll see
Pick something, stick something in it
With the engine running
One hundred, two hundred
Three hundred miles on an empty stomach
I'm on it, been on it
Y'all just ain't in on it yet
Sho' nuff it's on the fence
Of the wrong home
If it's fixed or it fits
So hence, I'm exempt going:
[Hook: Rob Roy]
Pussy in my lap
Bird in the sack
Fur in my cap
Fur, fur in my cap
Exactly, go on and dap me
Whether that be at a track meet
Or actually, right here in back of me
If y'all catching the beat, then I'm glad to be-
Lieve in a thing called happening
But naturally, that ain't happily-
Ever-after, might last a week
In fact, it seems too fast to be
Bad to me, that could mean
One or two screws unfastening
That's blasphemy or fascinating
Depending on how I go about debating
It stands without saying - since I was finna
Not to be biased or the slightest sentimental
But if I ain't talking 'bout shooting things you could think
I was shootin blanks, 'til I sink in a little yelling:
[Hook: Rob Roy]
Pussy in my lap
Bird in the sack
Fur in my cap
Fur, fur in my cap
I'm trying to told you
But y'all is getting older
And getting closer to never getting over -
While I keep on getting swoller
Pretty soon, I'll leave this boulder
While boasting my boldest blues
To boost me into an orbit
Forging the course of the future
As an institution of proven truth
Or at least its ruins
Until I'm ruined
Yet that's assuming that my seam's undoing
And while it seems inhuman
I do intend to pursue this end
As a means of tuning in through the lens
Of the newest trends
And I got that latest, latest
Tasteless made in my homeboy basement
With an 808 bass kick to fade
The whip into shades of make-up
For the sake of making a face
With a blanket statement
In place of a major facelift
In layman's terms
Let us learn by saying:
[Hook: Rob Roy]
Pussy in my lap
Bird in the sack
Fur in my cap
Fur, fur in my cap
( Rob Roy )
www.ChordsAZ.com