these girls And gave them moral disciplines Taught them standards Right from wrong I nurtured their musicality Let them charm you with their song Daisy
bliss I must admit the thought that I could shred your tips With eight quick flips excites me, see y'all fuck with the pussy But I fuck with your minds
many years of friends and wine Of sharing curries and getting shitty With good-looking hippies With fairies on their spines And butterflies on their
take 'em, to the crilla, they just jump out their jeans (off patron) And now my rilla it ain't hard as it seems, my game Music pumpin, baby archin her back, with
bliss, I must admit The thought that I could shred your tips with eight quick flips excites me, see y'all fuck with the pussy but I fuck with your minds
ordinary people like themselves who'll suffer the effects of their filthy labour? * The wealthy obscene with their obscene wealth Applaud the carnage from their
butter There's no other word, go ask your mother Hard solid as your city ( ? ) Born in Brooklyn, can tell by the way that I walk and talk Strollin with
admit Did the handyman with his circular saw in his garden shed But I never crucified little Biko, that was two junior high school psychos Stinky Bohoon and his friend with the pumpkin-sized head
freak just for fucking with my balls and my dick Get started Legs parted I hit it so hard the pussy farted And now it's time to depart it She took the rubber off
treat you as a groupie broad When we fucked I refused to even take my jewelry off But it threw me off the first time I called and you blew me off It was
you like a groupie broad When we fucked I refused to even take my jewelry off But it threw me off the first time I called and you blew me off It was a
a shot Kick me, kicking you, kick the lot Talk to you with a frightening blade Hear me stalk through the 6th fucking grade Bar wax cloggin up your head
who don't believe, well off with their heads Well off with their heads Well off with their heads In Tragedy, will you admit defeat? In Tragedy, will you admit
know you miss me, go on admit it girl Cause everything he doing for you, I done did it girl So call me up late, I know you with it girl I get a rush
me with a toilet brush? Phyllis: Beat you with a toilet brush? Aynsley: Shhh . . . someone might hear . . . yes, beat me with a toilet brush. Phyllis