Bo Burnham - Bo' Fo' Sho’ lyrics
[Bo Burnham - Bo' Fo' Sho’ lyrics]
See you later
Incredibly hot chick! Come back any
Time and do sexual
Things, like how we were just
Doing oh hey! Uh, okay
This is a new rap um
I'm Bo Burnham this one is
Just straight wordplay, no gimmicks, just
Lyricism drop that beat, honey
Yeah
Walking my poodles, man, it never gets old
When my dog's on the leash
I got bitches on the hold
A first AIDS kit? That's a rhesus monkey
I bust more nuts than a pistachio junkie
I get more ass than a giant donkey stable
Got more lines than Whitney
Houston's coffee table
I get more head than grammar school lice
I'm like a walking glacier
I'm so decked out with ice
Did you poop a virgin? 'Cause
That shit is tight
Jack ain't Black, and Barry ain't White
I do drugs in the bedroom, lie on your back
'Cause, I gots the pipe and
You gots the crack
And though I'm sexually straight
You're bound to find
I'm mentally gay, 'cause I'll blow your mind
The parents be snickering
"He shouldn't have written it"
But, I'm constipated couldn't give a shit
My name is Bo, fo sho, a born Bostonian
Aryan librarian and the wordsmith sonian
The rap is scattered, it has it's ingenuity
I gave it this little part
To give it continuity
And the fellas say, "Hey, moron
Pass the gin"
'Cause, I'm an oxymoron breathing oxygen
Give me the bottle, I'll chug two thirds
'Cause you bitches know fractions
Speak louder than words
And the ladies say, "Hey, fellas
I'm keeping it tight
And if you play your cards right
You can have me tonight"
Should I blow you or beat
You? Brass or percussion?
Oh, stop, period, end of discussion
My name is Bo, fo sho, a born Bostonian
Aryan librarian and the wordsmith sonian
The rap is scattered, it has it's ingenuity
I gave it this little part
To give it continuity
Walking through the garden with
Food at my feet
Picked up the celery but dropped the beet
And then I picked it up yeah
Listen
We're in the hood, I'll take what you give me
Was Einstein's theory good? Relatively
A smart queen's kingdom? It doesn't mix
Illiterate literates, a bunch of Moby Dicks
Get thee to a punnery, oh just a feel ya
Take you with a condom, stainless steel ya
Half a pound of turkey breast
Half a pound of chicken tit's
Why are only crackers staying at the Ritz?
Poverty, racism, isn't it strange?
Only the homeless are begging for change
A shocked Sherlock what, son?
Rosa Parks didn't call shotgun
Here's a bit of irony
A Ford Focus driver's got ADD
How'd I come to master all of these things?
Like a tampon thief
I had to pull some strings
I had to pull some strings! That's a rap!
Incredibly hot chick! Come back any
Time and do sexual
Things, like how we were just
Doing oh hey! Uh, okay
This is a new rap um
I'm Bo Burnham this one is
Just straight wordplay, no gimmicks, just
Lyricism drop that beat, honey
Yeah
Walking my poodles, man, it never gets old
When my dog's on the leash
I got bitches on the hold
A first AIDS kit? That's a rhesus monkey
I bust more nuts than a pistachio junkie
I get more ass than a giant donkey stable
Got more lines than Whitney
Houston's coffee table
I get more head than grammar school lice
I'm like a walking glacier
I'm so decked out with ice
Did you poop a virgin? 'Cause
That shit is tight
Jack ain't Black, and Barry ain't White
I do drugs in the bedroom, lie on your back
'Cause, I gots the pipe and
You gots the crack
And though I'm sexually straight
You're bound to find
I'm mentally gay, 'cause I'll blow your mind
The parents be snickering
"He shouldn't have written it"
But, I'm constipated couldn't give a shit
My name is Bo, fo sho, a born Bostonian
Aryan librarian and the wordsmith sonian
The rap is scattered, it has it's ingenuity
I gave it this little part
To give it continuity
And the fellas say, "Hey, moron
Pass the gin"
'Cause, I'm an oxymoron breathing oxygen
Give me the bottle, I'll chug two thirds
'Cause you bitches know fractions
Speak louder than words
And the ladies say, "Hey, fellas
I'm keeping it tight
And if you play your cards right
You can have me tonight"
Should I blow you or beat
You? Brass or percussion?
Oh, stop, period, end of discussion
My name is Bo, fo sho, a born Bostonian
Aryan librarian and the wordsmith sonian
The rap is scattered, it has it's ingenuity
I gave it this little part
To give it continuity
Walking through the garden with
Food at my feet
Picked up the celery but dropped the beet
And then I picked it up yeah
Listen
We're in the hood, I'll take what you give me
Was Einstein's theory good? Relatively
A smart queen's kingdom? It doesn't mix
Illiterate literates, a bunch of Moby Dicks
Get thee to a punnery, oh just a feel ya
Take you with a condom, stainless steel ya
Half a pound of turkey breast
Half a pound of chicken tit's
Why are only crackers staying at the Ritz?
Poverty, racism, isn't it strange?
Only the homeless are begging for change
A shocked Sherlock what, son?
Rosa Parks didn't call shotgun
Here's a bit of irony
A Ford Focus driver's got ADD
How'd I come to master all of these things?
Like a tampon thief
I had to pull some strings
I had to pull some strings! That's a rap!