Bo' Fo' Sho

Yo
Walkin' my poodles, man, it never gets old
With my dogs on my leash, I got bitches on the hold
A first AIDS kit? That's a rhesus monkey
I bust more nuts than a pistachio junkie! Alright
I get more ass than a giant donkey stable
Got more lines than Whitney Houston's coffee table
I get more head than grammar school lice
I'm like a walkin' glacier, I'm so decked out with ice

Did you poop a virgin? 'Cause that shit is tight
Jack ain't black, and Barry ain't white
I do drugs in the bedroom, lie on your back
Cause I got the pipe and you got the crack
Though I'm sexually straight, you're bound to find
I'm mentally gay, cause I'll blow your mind
The parents be snickerin', "He shouldn't have written it"
But I'm constipated, couldn't give a shit

Yo, 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

And the fellas say, hey moron pass the gin
'Cause I'm an oxy-moron breathing oxy-gin
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 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 king-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?
A shocked Sherlock
Watt, son?
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
I had to pull some strings

That's a rap



Credits
Writer(s): Bo Burnham
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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