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Yo, walkin' my poodles, man, it never gets old. |
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With my dogs on my leash, |
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I got bitches on the hold, |
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A first-AI |
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DS kit? That's a rhesus monkey. |
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I bust more nuts than a pistachio junkie. |
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Get more ass than a giant donkey stable, |
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Got more lines than |
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Whitney Houston's coffee table. |
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I get more head than grammar-school lice. |
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I'm like a walkin' glacier, |
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I'm so decked out with ice. |
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Did you poop a virgin? ' |
|
Cause that shit is tight. |
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Jack ain't black, and |
|
Barry ain't white. |
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I do drugs in the bedroom, lie on your back |
|
Cause I got the pipe and you got the crack. |
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Though I'm sexually straight, you're bound to find, |
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I'm mentally gay, cause |
|
I'll blow your mind. |
|
The parents be snickerin', "He shouldn't have written it," |
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But I'm constipated, couldn't give a shit. |
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Yo, my name is |
|
Bo, fo sho, a born |
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Bostonian, |
|
Aryan librarian at the wordsmith-sonian |
|
The rap is scattered, it hides its ingenuity, |
|
I gave it this little part to give it continuity. |
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And the fellas say, hey, moron, pass the gin ' |
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Cause I'm an |
|
OXYmoron breathing |
|
OXYgen. Give me the bottle, |
|
I'll chug two-thirds, ' |
|
Cause you bitches know fractions speak louder than words |
|
Hey, look at that, okay |
|
And the ladies say, |
|
Hey fellas, |
|
I'm keepin' it tight, and if you play your cards right, you can have me tonight. |
|
Should I blow you or beat you, brass or percussion? |
|
Oh, stop, period, end of discussion. |
|
My name is |
|
Bo, fo sho, a born |
|
Bostonian, |
|
Aryan librarian at the wordsmith-sonian. |
|
The rap is scattered, it hides its ingenuity, |
|
I gave it this little part to give it continuity. |
|
Walking through the garden with food at my feet, |
|
Picked up the celery, but dropped the beet (beat). |
|
Oh, and then |
|
I picked it up. |
|
Let's end this thing right. |
|
Yo, we're in the hood, |
|
I'll take what you give me. |
|
Was Einstein's theory good? |
|
Relatively. |
|
A smart queen's kingdom (dumb), it doesn't mix. |
|
A litter of literates, a bunch of |
|
Moby Dicks. "Get thee to a punnery," o-just to-pheelia |
|
Take you with a condom, "stainless-steal" ya. |
|
Half a pound of turkey breast, half a pound of chicken tits, |
|
Why are only crackers staying at the |
|
Ritz? Poverty, racism, isn't it strange, |
|
Only the homeless are beggin' for change? |
|
I shocked |
|
Sherlock What, son? (Watson) |
|
Rosa Parks didn't call "shotgun"! |
|
Well, here's a bit of irony |
|
A Ford Focus driver's got |
|
ADD. How'd |
|
I come to master all these things? |
|
Like a tampon thief, |
|
I had to pull some strings. |
