Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Boblo Boat, artist - Royce 5'9.
Date of issue: 03.05.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Boblo Boat |
Nothing compared to our family trips |
My uncle shook hands with a manly grip |
All this hand-me-down shit I had had an uncanny fit |
All the gangstas I had in my family had me anti-bitch |
My granddaddy mistress caught the business from my granny fist |
That was back 'fore I was born |
Pop told stories 'bout it that would last for hours-long |
And as a family we was just so happy when him and mama got along |
On the Boblo boat |
Uh, on our way to that black amusement park |
Wood roller coasters, crack sold on plastic scooter cards |
Uh, smoking grass at the vintage food court |
Broken glass, waiting on you on the swimming pool floor |
I came across my identity on the Boblo boat |
That’s where I lost my virginity, no condom, though |
That’s when paranoia hit me like when superstition does |
Left my inhibitions I guess where my supervision was |
Parties on the way to the island would be the livest, though |
First time big bro hit the bottle was on the Boblo boat |
But neither one of us knew that we would both grow up and turn to alcoholics, |
though |
The Boblo boat |
Hey, hey, hey. |
Lil' green. |
Come here. |
Hey, hit this, nigga. |
Nigga, |
don’t worry 'bout what the fuck it is. |
Just drink |
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah |
Some of my better times I said were true |
I said were true, yeah |
Shit, all of my better days I said were true |
I said were true, shit |
And now I gotta wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, Shit |
Stuck inside a rat race, fuck, rat race, fuck, fuck |
Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up again |
Stuck inside this rat race, fuck |
Yeah, look |
Twist the cap, lift the bottle back, swig it |
Dick it, ten-inch rims on my mama’s Civic |
Ten-inch woofers in the trunk, to be specific |
They bump, rattle the license plate, plus the windows tinted |
Don’t even give a fuck that it’s dented, bitch, I’m the man now |
I’m rolling, driving it slow as if it’s stolen |
Piling up bros like we was clothing on a dresser |
Calling up hoes like we was Jodeci, let’s check her |
Double D’s like double-deckers, I wanna sex her |
But these keys don’t come with game on how to finesse her |
Five semesters left until college, I’m under pressure |
I’m not a real nigga 'til I undress her, I gotta 'press her |
This was my main concern back when concerns were lesser |
Nowadays, I often yearn to press the backspace button |
Or hit return, but life is not no word processor |
Most folks would burn the sess to burn the stress of my real-life trauma |
Plus fickle niggas thinking they done heard the best of Jermaine Lamarr |
But that’s insane, it couldn’t be further left of |
The truth is that my new shit slap, you never heard it better |
Give me a sec, I murder sectors |
Prefer to let you see it rather than say it, but it spill out |
I gotta chill out |
Say «Fuck the world"and never pull out |
We had no Boblo boat, but I could note those times is like a Bible «e |
BC, before cellphones, the first time I would smoke |
I was 6-years-old, but that’s for another chapter |
That’s for another story, to God be the glory |
I made it out unscathed and now I sunbathe with my son and Tanzanian sunrays |
thinking 'bout dumb days |
Thinking 'bout dumb days |
This is 808-Ray |