Lyrics Respect The Broccoli Cock - Sage Francis

Respect The Broccoli Cock

I’ve got broccoli cock.
How many vegetarian women are in the house
And would like to stuff their mouth with my chlorophyll?
I gets more than ill
I left heads for deaths beds with my morbid skill
And i’ve got whores to kill, excluding Lauryn Hill
Lauryn Hill’s pretty and her voice rules
And she sings other people’s songs so well
Kiss but don’t tell and if you ever do
That’ll be the last time i take you to the heavy petting zoo
We can dry hump until the cows come home
Run up the cattle while I treat my rug burned
Cauliflower love burns, son ya heard?
It branches out in every which way
And lubrication comes from what your lips spray
Some what that kid say, what I said yo
My bitches got mad flavor heavy flow
Mentally I’m busting more cherries than that kid named Telly
I’m friendly like Casper after i take advantage and vanish
I’d ask you your name but I couldn’t care less
I’m just wondering if those are real breasts
So now I’m checking out your headlights, you ran the red light, special
Squeezing my head tight
Pressed right into your out-of-proportion chest,
All right, they’re mad fake
Now I’m just concerned with whether or not they can lactate, no?
Turn around and make that ass shake, ho
For false advertising, wasn’t that surprising?
I mean with all that experience
You still don’t know how to work around your periods,
Get a calendar and stop prostituting your love notes from J.D. Salinger
Don’t make me get mad at ya, I’ve got nothing but love for ya,
I’ve got nothing but love, for dumb sluts
Hike up your skirt a little more,
Why even bother wearing a shirt if it’s so small, whore
Show off your naval with some ornaments,
You won all events in the whore tournaments,
Congratulations, gold medal finalist.
I don’t mind your mindlessness,
It’s the only reason I exist.
Timeless mind, ageless body, hardly, sage’s hobby, probably
Speaking male chauvinist pig latin to some outrageous hotty, naughty
Do I make you horny baby, do I?
Didn’t think so, drink slow and I’ll be more fly
You can judge a harlot by the thickness of her beer goggles,
Turning the most repulsive weird cock pools into Calvin Klein underwear models
Convenient isn’t it, I’m not lenient when I’m ripping it,
Nor am I as obedient, barefoot pregnant in the kitchen shit
But what’s the ingredient when bitches strip, I’m just not seeing it
It’s not intricate, they need to think of it
I mean I’m sexually frustrated, that’s where all this hate is coming from
Sage Francis, Non-Prophets and I’m still not a done… done… done… done…
done…