Bobby Boucher

(album: RIP Human Art - 2023)

Yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah
I'm reunited with, uh, all of my, uh, yeah-yeah
I'm reunited with, uh, all of my
I'm reunited with, uh
I'm reunited with, uh
Okay, okay

I'm reunited with, uh, all of my vices, I can't
I can't deny it, I still got fucking problems, I try
I try to fight it, it don't, ain't try to hide it, go 'head
Luck be my lady, I'm up a couple thousand
Playing roulette like Bobby Boucher
Wa-wa-water on a Tuesday for all this D'Ussé
I surely feel like I'm drunk
I probably drink the Kool-Aid, that shit be packing a punch
It's like a jab to the face, I'm probably not getting enough

Fuck what you heard, nigga shit, gon' spin it
Been independent, still with my twin, he can finish my sentence
I don't know her name, but she one of my bitches, number exchange
And I'm running up in it, no funny business, I ain't on no weird shit, might probably spill this
I ain't t-boz, and I sure ain't chilli', is it just me or the energy shiftin'?
Nigga growing up, might live to be the villain
When a nigga die, hope they put me on buildings
I'm out the space, you can never come near this
I heard your tape, but I really ain't feel it
Fresh out the woods, where they follow my footprints
Credit store fucked up, know I got good dick
Swerving through the hood, brakes screeching like woodwinds
I don't think about much, I really just do shit

I'm reunited with, uh, all of my vices, I can't
I can't deny it, I still got fucking problems, I try
I try to fight it, it don't, ain't try to hide it, go 'head
Luck be my lady, I'm up a couple thousand
Playing roulette like Bobby Boucher
Wa-wa-water on a Tuesday for all this D'Ussé
I surely feel like I'm drunk (Yeah)
I probably drink the Kool-Aid, that shit be packing a punch (Yeah)
It's like a jab to the face, I'm probably not getting enough

I'm fucking lady luck inside my spaceship truck with the ankles up (Ooh-ooh)
She like it long, she like it wide, and she sure love it rough
I can't get a break, and she can't get enough
After this, I'ma need

Scotty come beam me up, come clean me up
Somebody come clean me up, on the scene I strut
I ease like water on leaves, I glide on beats, I fly, I swim, I ski
In eighty degrees, make these hoes freeze
My nigga, please, my bank account got angel numbers
Can't nobody save you but yourself
I listened to God and talked to the Devil
He'd do wonders for my health
I died on Friday, came back Sunday
Turned up Monday, man, what else?
She said I taste like mango, dress like Django
Still wanna eat me up
You the weakest link, no we can't link up
Keep things untouched, don't speak on such, I'm so in love

I'm reunited with, uh, all of my vices, I can't
I can't deny it, I still got fucking problems, I try
I try to fight it, it don't, ain't try to hide it, go 'head
Luck be my lady, I'm up a couple thousand
Playing roulette like Bobby Boucher
Wa-wa-water on a Tuesday for all this D'Ussé
I surely feel like I'm drunk
I probably drink the Kool-Aid, that shit be packing a punch
It's like a jab to the face, I'm probably not getting enough