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Robert Raimon Roy
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Robert Raimon Roy
[Verse 1:Robert Raimon Roy]
I'm Robert Raimon Roy As in that boy from the cul-de-sac of Provost Court: Still Jacksonville, Florida Heat fries Red, blue, and white snowcones Licking them honeysuckles like sticky ribs at Bono's But nuff 'bout the culi-nary, won't marry No bitch in Hollywood 'less push comes to carry Polygamy epiphanies in Los Feliz When the door rings, and hope she's at home, but she's . . . not, like your birthday Watch my hair salt And pepper 'fore I get some sign she might want to give me no mo' hard time Don't go out bar time, Cause when you in the club you meet someone disguised Now, I've muddied some things, but aim to provide A push off the right foot that do remind you who spits that jewelry, I'm . . .
[Hook]
R-R-Robert Raimon Roy
[Verse 2: Robert Raimon Roy]
Before my days on the Metro, I had a Toyo-ta—a white one—was my Mama's '84 Cressida I'd go over Jessica's, and hope she would let me put My hand on her titty if my wood Was speaking to her wetness Get this: Now I'm yelling, 'Girl, let's not have sex yet. You ain't good spelling!' Though you got good looks, I know you will be damned Like banned books into some nook if you put on some flab As there's always a youngin' I can feel young with Take her to the crib, and sang some shit funky Or swag, like they say these days on the Tumblr Or some other adjective that stands for wonder-ful Anywho That's formality, but unusual the same: I'm saying, uncanny! Can't be asking, if you need to crash my home with no employment and all your 43 bags You know that's your bad, can't nobody have . . .
[Hook]
R-R-Robert Raimon Roy
[Verse 3: Robert Raimon Roy]
Not allergic to the pollen, but I got me a hanky She parked in my driveway, decided to hand me a job Now, the fog made me want them undies My ex-girl buddy, felt her silly putty When I came through, she came too like dupli-cate Then maneuvered to recline and shoot the manure While we dreamed 'bout what we would do in the future: Was it school, or would I move to the West and break out of the cycle? Have another life too? Find me a wife who'll cook food on the grill, or maybe have a few? But 'til then I'll do . . .
[Hook]
R-R-Robert Raimon Roy
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