The air in the studio was thick, a heavy haze that mirrored the foggy memories B.o.B was trying to outrun. He stared at the soundboard, the flickering lights looking like distant city stars through the smoke.
He thought about the people who argued over who was right or wrong, the ones stuck in the "bullshit" of yesterday. He was done with that. He was looking for a "new flight with new stairs," a way to move on and upgrade his life. B.o.B - FT Marko Penn Roll Up
"Let's roll," he muttered to himself, the rhythm taking over. The air in the studio was thick, a
Bobby Ray grabbed a pen. He didn't want to explain himself anymore. If people didn't understand the need to "roll up something" or "pour up something" just to drown out the noise of their own thoughts, they never would. He was done with that