Bobby digital’s little wings Lyrics - R.A.P. Ferreira — Paroles de Chansons

PAROLES

[Intro: R.A.P. Ferreira & Ted Joans]
Caramel toffees
Look at that Bobby
Digital in the lobby
Shout out to Bobby Digital
Ayy, dog, ruby yacht
What else we gon’ do now? We gon’ do somethin’ nice and simple
It is? That’s my religion too
Alright, we gon’ do, I’m gon’ do a poem now
The title of the poem is “Hallelujah, I love Jazz”

[Verse 1: R.A.P. Ferreira]
Dark openly, gamma rays washed over me
Fidgets with hidden crest
The fickle house guest giving heartfelt thanks
Titanic sank ’cause black people weren’t allowed on it
How’s that for power?
Spirits get hungry and credentials get devoured
Halfway there, they feelin’ laissez-faire
Personally, I’m more hands on, stand strong
As a late evening doppio
Long face at the supermercado
Merriment stammer lopside
Coded messages on gamma ferric oxide
I’m a terrorist with a mock Mai Tai
Blissed out on the sunset
Askin’ my son, “Are you having fun yet?”
He grins loudly, how his granny did
We be black as some mission figs
Flourishing future to past
And that’s what the mission is
Remain unashamed to be sensitive
As such is the first stage of vigilance
As such is the first stage of vigilance
As such is the first stage of vigilance
To be sensitive, dig

[Interlude: Shay Stewart Bouley]
Two weeks after turning 19
I gave birth to my first born, my son
Four months later, I had my first panic attack
I remember lying down
I remember putting my son down, unable to catch my breath

[Verse 2: R.A.P. Ferreira]
Ashy as my turban is
Bad mood, citing atmospheric disturbances
Detritus and oil fields
Place littered with human shields
Hosts for delinquents
I’m just tryin’ to remember the next pose in the sequence
Six four and my back hurts
Mixmaster wrote the passwords
Known for choppin’ samples and evading capture
Obnoxious laughter, jazz and rapture
A structured approach to letting go
Coached from your very own stereo

[Outro: Rita Dove & Shay Stewart Bouley]
Chest feeling so tight and just lying on the bed crying
Certain I’m fast about to die
“The Spring Cricket Considers the Question of Negritude”
I was playing my tunes all by myself
I didn’t know anybody else who could play along
Sure, the tunes were sad, but sweet too
And wouldn’t come until the day gave out
You know that way the sky has of dangling her last bright wisps?
That’s when the ache would bloom inside until I couldn’t wait
I knelt down to scrape myself clean
And didn’t care who heard

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