This is a song about "Bob the building"

It's all too black for me to blame it on the man

Yes siree 'bob', i was thinking the same thang

Rage, pain, was blown away in the wind like bob dylan's,

Don't make me shoot up this place with light sabers and guns

And until then i'm building a path to reflect the worst

Must be life. no greater feeling in the world

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

I'm different, i'll twist the wicked ceiling off this little building,

Wish you was around now to see what i've become see

I feelin like the ?bob?, when he was on da fone wit jimmy.

Now nigga, look what hell madevisions of cops and sirens, niggas open fire

But the moment she started to bob it fast deep, i could last for awhile

True nigga in the building getting paper under the ceiling,

And i have to say that music keeps me here, by far, the main thing