Lyrics She's Quite Some Picture - Dr. Syntax

She's Quite Some Picture

First one is playful
Type you’d like to cradle
Mind state favorable
Never tried the pain
To make her hateful or disdainful
Tight frame, face is like an angel’s
Every step gracefully
Parades the nicest navel
(She's pure!)
In a way you can’t create with any facial
That’s the type of Maid I’d like waiting on my table
But when it comes to conversation
This could be debatable
Regurgitating all the same bull
She saw on cable
It’s a given that your smitten
Cos she’s so damn hot
She’s that image of perfection
Every grown man wants
But on a search for your equivalent
You’re totally off
Cos she can get you feeling young
Then let you know that you’re not
So you can brag that you’re mackin dude
But that’s a crass attitude
Don’t you know that too much candy is bad for you?
(Go on!)
Just try and handle youth
It’s attractive too
But once she’s had a few
She’s acting like a minor nag and boo
Best to get this understood
Or you’ll wind up in a frenzy
Cos she’s looking so good
But the mind isn’t ready
So, if you’re on some dumb tip, get your fun fix
Otherwise you’re best to run quick
From these young chicks
She’s quite some picture, this I can see
Still she’s not enticing to me
Just because she’s beautiful
It doesn’t mean she’s suitable
I refuse the lose it
So I won’t be getting too enthralled
Second one’s a, twisted plot
Guaranteed to make you grimace lots
Frisky fox, snare you with a wiggle
Plus a quick snog
One minute she’s on it but
The thing you wouldn’t miss much
Is purely cold blooded how
Quickly she can switch off
Hissy fit strops
It’s a killer when she’s pissed off
Clearly hot, still she gets as chilly as a crisp cross
One that’s been in love with it but since lost
Now it’s just a grim sloth
For anyone who want’s to come and win props
It’s over for your own thoughts
Let alone your cohorts
This one got you groaning down your phone
Until your throat’s hoarse
And so on, and so fourth
Most want to know more
But then get roasted boar
Like she exposed them to a blowtorch
Playing mind games
Climbing right inside the eye’s brain
Devising ways of applying strain
Until he’s quite changed
Left in Dire Straights
Let me try define a nice dame
See me I wouldn’t bite the bait
Must be an acquired taste
Please she’s a chicken-head
With vicious talents
Curse your bloodline to hell and then
She’ll (Switch!) like it didn’t happen
Hell of a fickle madame
Forever at the center of a bitter tantrum
Cool your jets and leave the bitch abandoned