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, hypersexual intellectual
Fried my brain, now I´ve become a vegetable
Travel with a gang of weird lookin´ extraterrestrials (Mi-mi-mi-mi)
They let me on their ship and made their bitches call me "General"
The dick quake could make a bitch 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 fuck around, it´s murder in this art exhibit
And I got the whole game on paralyzed ´cause my volume on amplified

You slow as a biracial bitch 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 pussy I wouldn´t fuck with a drunk dick
The day I came back from bein´ 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 (Motherfucker)

It still ain´t cliche to say, "Fuck the cops" (No)
Let´s try it (Fuck 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
Tasty, tasty, that shit is tasty
This shit is tasty
Nigga, smoke

We servin´ faster than the Chinese
This life carries a price cheaper than clown feet
Like prostitutes with hoops and combined weaves
Who hates herself inside

So she sellin´ her punani by umami (ooh mind me?)
It´s like my soul´s inside the bowl
I hold it close, ´cause I don´t know when it´s my time to go
I´m blindin´ fold, I hear my son laughin´ and time is froze
And he knows it, lookin´ at me like "That´s my pops," and I´m his goal, nigga
Motherfucker, I hit pockets, pickpockets
I´ll beat you for your keys, bubblegum, and your bitch wallet
To his product, I´m a prodigy of a dead nigga
No name droppin´, scribin´ when nobody was dead meat when they came flockin´
Brain doctorin´, where I left my hard dates
Small shakes and small dates, the ones I only call late in parlay
You know what the dark say (Say), grab a bitch by the paw, ayy (Ayy)

Her name´s Autumn, she happens to be fallin´ on the wrong day

Nigga, tasty (Tasty), tasty
Tasty, that shit is tasty
That shit is tasty
Tasty, tasty, tasty, tasty