Lyrics Turnin' Me Off - Slum Village, De La Soul

Turnin' Me Off

Next door she do hopes, chick’s so old
Swear she got a blue back, can’t shake her cold
But you got to prove girl, you didn’t been there
No matter the occasion, shejust gotta be in there
Ball court surfer, she a dope boy’s …
Net game, shameless you better get garlic
Miss vampire, your blood on your bank code
She’ll thank you kindly
Kinda reminds me, what’s good for the goose
Is good for the gander
But my gigolo days died with Huey in the news
You want a taste of a do it and you loose
Vixen, she on that smack, my dogs love it
Tell she blow cum bubbles out her nose when she swallows
Her creed deeper than the shades of appolo
But that ain’t balboa thats boa constrictor
She don’t let her head to her toes restrict her
Shit, fine dime and kiwi white wine
When she breaks the bank, she bringing out the hammer
Hammer pants, 12 hundred a pair
Hammer here, you can’t touch this boy, don’t even go there
She can’t cook a hotdog but she could eat one
A college orgy’s like eats one, teach one
Her first gang bang, on her birthday
16 candles, blew them all in the worst way
But nowadays she some corporate kitty
In somebody’s penthouse, in some big city
Laying on her backside, tears in her eyes
Living in the life, while her dignity dies
Tarnishing the legacy, queens in the tribe
Bonita applebum, you kinda turn me off
Bonita applebum, you kinda turn me off
We dead in the summer time, still gotta cough
Bonita applebum, you kinda turn me off
Bonita, Bonita, Bonita
You see you couldn’t feed of shit she was broke
Hungry… been on the back so much
She’s giving break dance lessons
Back spinning, back sinning about 10 seconds in the back
Of the rental, the black tint Lexus
She learn the head game, … probably undressing
She should have slowed it but you never would have known it
Until you push upon her and got the killa cunt from California
Right persona, never knew that she was local
High complexion you go when hopping on some dicks like a pogo
Hot chick, never put your face near the slit
Always crying, always lying, always talking shit
The kind of girl burn your money, burn your P now
She prolly got a the fucking role clinic on fucking speed dial
I told my man you would leak where you pee out
Bonita, Bonita, Bonita
Yeah, y’all know that saying
When in Rome, do what Roman Polanski would do
So you bit off a little more than you can chew
Raise cheeks and white teeth showing hunger
You and I both know you ain’t getting any younger
But you all given just a typical lame
Got Mono from a stereotypical way
Views on love, been stretched and worked with the skellies in her closet,
with the fresh corpse
Next to it, shelf filled with self health books, looks like a paradox
Cause the crooks use you like a pair of socks
Keep a pair of cock in your mouth, you call it smoking pube
You’ve been warned from the ground up you have never to be
Most prefer rose a pose to the sea
All over your charade, like a new dance of the footsteps followers
… and find you on your knees… Bonita, Bonita, Bonita