Lyrics:
Frank Bond

Tommy dorsey: now here's a fellow, here's a fellow you all know, here's frankie sinatra. Frank: hello. Tommy: how're you feeling, frank? Frank: oh, all

wet cha like hurricanes and typhoons Got buffoons eatin' my pussy while I watch cartoons Seat the loon, rap Pam Grier's here Baby drinkers beware, mostly Dolce wear Frank

from Fat Joe (Say word) Word, fuck what you heard Shit is realer than you think, you niggaz must be slow Yeah, goin? out to my nigga Big Frank 1-7-

intercool Rock on Neo Rockers Rock on Come on, rock it, do it You got Rockefeller Got Kennedy You got James Bond Gotta Muhammed Ali Got Frank Sinatra

Rock on Neo Rockers Rock on Come on, rock it, do it You got Rockefeller Got Kennedy You got James Bond Gotta Muhammed Ali Got Frank Sinatra You got classic

Dollar, dollar bills Dotes, marks, franks, yens and pounds I rock the chopped up sounds from devinger dounds Out the Ford Rover, up top in the boogie

up, decided to get out I picked up the phone and I gave my boys a shout Told 'em I'd be out around nine No particular plan, just whatever comes to mind Frank

the bad and ugly, quick to pull shit Ignorant, vulgar, on your taperecorder Idol to your son and probably lover to your daughter Fatman son, wilted grandson, (? ) nephew, frank

wet cha like hurricanes and typhoons Got buffoons eatin my pussy while I watch cartoons Seat the loon, this rap Pam Grier's here Baby drinkers beware, mostly Dolce wear Frank