See You Space Cowboy...

Yeah, yeah, uh

Grammy-nominated, never won it though
Don't need it, but deep down I want it though
Bank account still on a hunnid though
My bank account still on a hunnid
But that don't mean shit, that don't mean that I'm shit
It's just me and my clique and we rhymin' and shit
Ain't no drama and shit, now I'm throwin' a fit
Watch me throwin' a fit and get lit like I'm Evel Knievil
Just me and my people, we call this the sequel to Under Pressure
Ain't no need to measure who the best
Fuck around and know who the best
Who give a shit? I just spit about this and I know what I love
R-A-double-T, I put nothing above like that thing in the glove
From Maryland to LA, I'm a motherfucking boss at the bars
And I'm down for the cause, who's down for the cause?
Take a step back, hold up (L-O-G-I-C)
Put the city on the map with the city on my back
Let 'em know you're never ever goin' back (L-O-G-I-C)
Don't be scared to murk 'em all
Heard 'em all, watch 'em all
Get up all, watch 'em all get a ball (L-O-G-I-C)
When you grow up in a hood without a male role model
And your momma turn to the bottle
Give a damn about status, who the baddest?
I just wanna be the raddest dad as I can be
This shit is systemic inside of us B, the media lie to us B
They tell us we can be whoever we want to be
And when we try what they tell us? (What they tell us?)
What they tell us? To live more realistically (ayy)

Fuck that, get the fuck back, fuck rap and all that noise
Growing up how I grew up I really never had a choice
Had killers and murderers in my house and they was all of my boys
But deep down I always knew better, knew that shit I need to avoid

Yo, ayo
I got a lot on my mind
Got a lot of work ahead of me
I'm tryna maintain balance of my time
Never want to let it bottle up like everything fine
That's how you go crazy and end up in the pond
I've been talkin' to my therapist
Rhymes I've been writin' so hot
You would think it was in Arabic
Flow bomb like a terrorist, never careless
I got soul like parish, yeah, from Tokyo to Paris
My bitch bad, stay with money like a heiress
Time with my wife and my son what I cherish

Just try to relax your mind
Just try to relax your mind
Just try to relax your mind
Just try to relax your mind

Alright, well, I guess I just I woke up one day
And I was like: You know what? I kinda feel like rapping again
You know what I'm saying? So I did it
And I been chillin' with little Bobby and his fine ass momma
And we out here in the country
Shooting guns, riding dirt bikes and shit
And I was just like: Man, I want to do this
So I invited all the homies out here in the middle of nowhere
And uh, we just decided to do this Bobby Tarantino EP
Three-peat, off the cuff, just for fun
Just for the summer, just for all the homies
But we actually out here recording this album
It's going to be my last studio album on Def Jam
So, so it's going to be a vibe, man
It's just going to be fun, you know, just a fun thing
You know me, I'm a nerd, I love hip-hop, man
I love you listening, I love the fans
We doing this shit for the fans man
Whole time I was gone they was like: Come back! Come back
And I was like, nah
And then, and now I'm like: Yeah, alright, I'm back
I love y'all so much
RATTPACK, baby, yeah, little Bobby (dadda, momma)