Busdriver - Fishy Face lyrics

My love jet was supposed to be fuel efficient
But everybody knows that is
Just a boobish misprint
On the brochure Oh sure, such a hubris is fit
To procure your pure, yeah, prudish princess
Back when I put my reproductive
Glands in a plaster cast
Thinkin' that my Woody Woodpecker
Would always flabbergast
But my head trouser snake is
More like a pamper asp
And I never had the candor to ask
"Am I really all that?" (Uh)
Way before I ever got to pinch the folds
Of the hottest chicks
Comic strips were like ninja scrolls
And my heart was an iridescent listless cove
Yeah, I'm echoing the rhetoric
Of pimpin' hoes
From the homies sipping on a Michelob
Yeah, fuck them niggas
They can all just lick my chode
Because I speak in amorous whispers
That wisp her lobe i said I speak in amorous
Whispers that wisp her lobe
But in order for a lady
To ever admit my bulge
I need an entrance fee or an encryption code
Should I start cookin' crack
On the kitchen stove?
Actin' like a superfly stupefied
Wearing an Egyptian robe
Or just join a swing band, get a wingman
Maybe I can pull girls
With the old pick-and-roll
I need a beauty queen from movie
Scenes to kiss this toad
Not my goofy schemes resulting in me
Getting a fist to the nose
Hey, I make that fishy face, that kissy face
When I'm throwin' "what ifs"
At your puffed lips
Hey, I make that fishy face, that kissy face
When my sky's beneath your shoes

Don't go, no, die slowly
Cuz we don't get along no more

And so I figured I could
Draft a piece of fiction
While you were waiting for food
At the pizza kitchen
Just romanticize the idea
Of being grief-stricken
Yeah, all grumpy and bummy and all fleabitten
And now your sex drive is
Revved up within each piston
I found the perfect way for
A nigga to meet chickens
I'm now the persnickety palindrome piecer
Her fidgety xylophone seeker
Suffering in a used car, FUBAR
With my teeth missin'
And now I bone a range of after party harlots
Kickin' this old game like an Atari cartridge
Just from freelancing with
A socialist tribune, i get poon
And give dick to who wants the goo gob
And diss Lou Dobbs and Brit Hume like

Smooches, kisses, smooches, kisses
Smooches, kisses, smooches, kisses
Smooches, kisses, smooches, kisses
Smooches, kisses, smooches, smooches
Hey, I make that fishy face, that kissy face
When I'm throwin' "what ifs"
At your puffed lips
Hey, hey hey I make that fishy face
That kissy face
When my sky's beneath your shoes

Come on now, no one thinks that real
Niggas love rappin' nerdy
Or go to art exhibit's and
Museums and view taxidermy
So go date a slew of tax attorneys
Who have logistically mapped their thirties
But, I put them fools on padded gurneys
I hit it when your ass was fat and perky
But now you look like a Susan Sarandon doll
And I'm as volatile as a human cannon ball
I still rap like it's commentary
For a horse race
With the political impetus of
John Kerry's court case
For a vote recount -I got OG clout
I tell hoes, "Peace out" when they become
Bitter Strawberry Shortcakes i move on
Sleep on a futon arbitrarily
In a storage space
From now on I solemnly make a pledge
To move her in just cause she's great in bed
And grate hearts up on a serrated edge
And break a year lease
While screamin' in your ear piece

Hey, I make that fishy face, that kissy face
When I'm throwin' "what ifs"
At your puffed lips
Hey, I make that fishy face, that kissy face
When my sky's beneath your shoes
Don't go, no, die slowly
Cuz we don't get along no more