Bo Burnham - Words Words Words lyrics
[Bo Burnham - Words Words Words lyrics]
Let's rock! 1! 2! 1-2-3-4!
I'm a feminine Eminem, a slim shady lady
But nice, 'cause I texted Haiti
90 lady cops in the road
And I'm arrested for doing 80
Like Hamlet, all about "words, words, words"
Divide a whole into thirds, thirds, thirds
I'm a gay sea otter
I blow other dudes out of the water
I'm the man muffin, diving, muffin'
Cold and fly like an arctic puffin
Puffing whacky tobaccy
Hating other rappers like I'm Helga Pataki
And I've been rocking this
Mic before electricity
Way back in a thousand BCE
That's before the common era
(era, era, era, era, era, era, ah)
I can't be stopped
Flow so sick that it should be mopped up
Chick's got a dixie cup
I gotta dick full of helium I'll fuck you up
A boy, a girl, a middle aged bitch
Botox in the third person
I give the perspective a switch and
Bo talks in the third person
Ooh, just relax if you wanna know me
Here's two facts:
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
Met a girl named Macy
Had sex with her all day
But she was dyslexic
So I ended up doing the YMCA
We ballin', Asian, Wii bowling
Prostate cancer semi-colon
Find that hole like I'm Stephen Hawking
Atticus Finch, killing, mocking
Cry like a child would
You raped my childhood just stroll in
Roll in your pole into
Rolie Polie Olie's colon to relax my mind
I take a walk by the clock
And I pass the time and
Rhyming, mathematical timing
Syntax impacts the intact hymen
I'm an internet provider
Came from the web like a horny spider
Fucked a girl in an apple orchard
Then came in cider
I thought AIDS was a butt virus
Like conjunction junction conjunctivitis
I spit gold bars 'cause I was
Molested by my uncle Midas
Gay dads blow pops, another sucker
Oedipus was the first motherfucker
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
Hungry hungry hippo-crite
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
We, the people of the USA
José, we're not talking to you, esé
We got a border in order to keep you out
It's what my NYU essay's about
'Cause we're, xenophobic warrior princess
Molested by my Uncle Sam, is that incest?
"I WANT YOU" to smell my finger
Does my nephew's scent still linger?
South of queers, north of hell
The queer ones suck and the brown ones smell
We guard the border and we guard it well
But some slip through the cracks
Of the liberty bell
Did I say liberty? I meant taco
Paco, hey I better let that rock go
'Cause in real life Goliath wins
Sells all the silk that the widow spins
One more time, ah!
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
Hungry hungry hippo-crite
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
Break it down now! What!
Bitches and hoes, Bo's hoes, oh
Bitches and hoes, bitches, hoes
Bitches and hoes don't exist
Because the hoes know Bo's a feminist
Bitches and hoes don't exist
Because the hoes know Bo's a feminist
Take off your bras and burn 'em
Or you can let me burn 'em
Take off your bras and burn 'em, oh
You can let Bo Burnham burn 'em
Take off your bras and burn 'em
You can let me burn 'em
Take off your bras and burn 'em, burn 'em
Or you can let Bo Burnham burn 'em
I'm a feminine Eminem, a slim shady lady
But nice, 'cause I texted Haiti
90 lady cops in the road
And I'm arrested for doing 80
Like Hamlet, all about "words, words, words"
Divide a whole into thirds, thirds, thirds
I'm a gay sea otter
I blow other dudes out of the water
I'm the man muffin, diving, muffin'
Cold and fly like an arctic puffin
Puffing whacky tobaccy
Hating other rappers like I'm Helga Pataki
And I've been rocking this
Mic before electricity
Way back in a thousand BCE
That's before the common era
(era, era, era, era, era, era, ah)
I can't be stopped
Flow so sick that it should be mopped up
Chick's got a dixie cup
I gotta dick full of helium I'll fuck you up
A boy, a girl, a middle aged bitch
Botox in the third person
I give the perspective a switch and
Bo talks in the third person
Ooh, just relax if you wanna know me
Here's two facts:
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
Met a girl named Macy
Had sex with her all day
But she was dyslexic
So I ended up doing the YMCA
We ballin', Asian, Wii bowling
Prostate cancer semi-colon
Find that hole like I'm Stephen Hawking
Atticus Finch, killing, mocking
Cry like a child would
You raped my childhood just stroll in
Roll in your pole into
Rolie Polie Olie's colon to relax my mind
I take a walk by the clock
And I pass the time and
Rhyming, mathematical timing
Syntax impacts the intact hymen
I'm an internet provider
Came from the web like a horny spider
Fucked a girl in an apple orchard
Then came in cider
I thought AIDS was a butt virus
Like conjunction junction conjunctivitis
I spit gold bars 'cause I was
Molested by my uncle Midas
Gay dads blow pops, another sucker
Oedipus was the first motherfucker
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
Hungry hungry hippo-crite
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
We, the people of the USA
José, we're not talking to you, esé
We got a border in order to keep you out
It's what my NYU essay's about
'Cause we're, xenophobic warrior princess
Molested by my Uncle Sam, is that incest?
"I WANT YOU" to smell my finger
Does my nephew's scent still linger?
South of queers, north of hell
The queer ones suck and the brown ones smell
We guard the border and we guard it well
But some slip through the cracks
Of the liberty bell
Did I say liberty? I meant taco
Paco, hey I better let that rock go
'Cause in real life Goliath wins
Sells all the silk that the widow spins
One more time, ah!
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
Hungry hungry hippo-crite
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite
Break it down now! What!
Bitches and hoes, Bo's hoes, oh
Bitches and hoes, bitches, hoes
Bitches and hoes don't exist
Because the hoes know Bo's a feminist
Bitches and hoes don't exist
Because the hoes know Bo's a feminist
Take off your bras and burn 'em
Or you can let me burn 'em
Take off your bras and burn 'em, oh
You can let Bo Burnham burn 'em
Take off your bras and burn 'em
You can let me burn 'em
Take off your bras and burn 'em, burn 'em
Or you can let Bo Burnham burn 'em