| Little Sally Walker, sittin' in a saucer
|
| Oh, how I tossed that ass up
|
| Like a mission in the woods, woody woodpecker would if he could
|
| But I didn’t want to pass it up
|
| To the next man had my walkman bumpin' on
|
| The fifty yard line and my adrenaline pumpin'
|
| Like a killer thriller driller tiller out with the miller brew
|
| Filler up, took it 'til the damn Dutch puked
|
| Luke Skywalker ain’t a sweettalker so I got ill
|
| With my lightsaber that came in one fancy flavor
|
| My strange behavior led to an outburst
|
| The night felt good but the day got worse
|
| I thought I was alone, slim Tre the stowaway
|
| With a brown-eyed bombshell that was dope enough to pay
|
| I looked over my shoulder and my cover was peeled
|
| By my whole school sayin «ooh» and I’m busted for real
|
| (He came and went at the same time)
|
| Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit
|
| What to say the least
|
| I’m so slick that they need to call me grease
|
| Cuz I slips and I slides when I rides on the beast
|
| Imani and your mom sittin in a tree
|
| K-i-s-s (i-n-g)
|
| Yo, first comes the tongue
|
| And then come the she my homey’s m-o-m what (m-i-e)
|
| Yo, and to think from day one in my eyes I show fear cuz
|
| I stepped into his house his, Mom’s grinnin ear to ear
|
| Gigglin and winks for weeks
|
| I would encounter from this female
|
| She’s sizin me up for the kill
|
| Oh what the hell is what I said to myself so that I wouldn’t worry
|
| I’m sittin' on the couch and wish Greg would please hurry up
|
| She offered me a cup of ripple broke out the titty
|
| Squeezed her nipple, said, «Suck it if you like but please don’t bite it»
|
| I had an urge to say fuck it but I knew I had to fight it
|
| Before I could say alakazam par dick ma wah
|
| I took this old bitch in a doggie style
|
| Greg walked in the room that nigga cold had a fit
|
| But all this numbskull could say was, «Oh shit!»
|
| Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh
|
| Sh-
|
| (Son-of-a bitch, son-of-a bitch, come on!)
|
| One fine summertime Sunday evening
|
| Crenshaw Boulevard was in full swing
|
| Perfect example of how looks can be deceiving
|
| Rolled up to what I thought was a pretty young thing
|
| Rollin in a purple samurai Suzuki dookie braids was an aid to her sex appeal
|
| Dude, she was dope, man, real dope on the real
|
| Well anyway I went toot toot she said hey a beep beep
|
| The next day rolled down to the beach, deuce deep
|
| Me and my new Crenshaw cutie
|
| Coolin' on the beach and now she’s rubbin on my booty
|
| Suck suck suckin' on my neck like Dracula
|
| But it wasn’t all that spectacular (why?)
|
| Cuz everytime I tried to touch upon her tay-titty
|
| She would be like «Quit, B»
|
| Bitch was frontin' but I didn’t say nothin'
|
| Then all of a sudden as if someone pushed the button
|
| I got a funny feeling like something was real wrong
|
| Looked at her shoes and her feets was real long
|
| Then it hit me, oh please god no
|
| Don’t let this ho turn out to be a John Doe
|
| He pulled a fast one on me, yo
|
| I guess that’s one of those things that make you go: shit!
|
| Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh
|
| Shit
|
| Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit… |