NC-17

Yeah...oh yeah

Look it...I spit the lust language that brush anxious
For me to rip the draws and slather them walls
Quick on the draw, my game smoother than velour
Spitting Jazz in her ear, serenade mixed with racketeer
A lyricist that's not cavalier, she like Pam Grier
Nipples under a blouse that's sheer
A 60's, Blaxploitation world premier
Now she on my shaft going up and down like a polygraph
Feeling like she took a molly tab
Damn mami the punani on smash, straight cash
I been the flyest since bitches wore Jordache
Looking like money bags, sporting designer collabs
I never settled down, I was a nomad holding' my gonads
Spitting game like Pootie Tang's vocab
My raps, catch better moments than snaps by Kodak
The centaur archer of the Zodiac

Listener discretion is advised
Nudity and graphic language are in these lines
I captured lightening in a bottle, with my raunchy debacle
This like a page from a ghetto romance novel
Rated NC-17, Rated NC-17, Rated NC-17
Sex is the objective and sweet nothings is the smoke screen

I had my fair share of stool pigeons
In the past if we crossed paths, I'm sure I soiled ya linens
Slick and witty like Pink Panther
Girls easily tell me they issues, but I'm not a baggage handler
But more of a estrogen channeler
They eyeball me like I'm dreamy
The dance hall like a speakeasy
Feline brick houses and sleazy
She felt the bulge when we danced
At first glance she thought I had a gerbil in my pants
I'm in a herbal trance
Turning me on, my dick like a head on a lance
Minutes ago, I said I won't put my tongue in ya hole
30 minutes in I poked the box with Pinocchio's nose
She swallowed my offspring like a storm drain
Wet and content from the exotic exchange
My climax is like the Alpine Alps
Nothing's like a shampooed scalp, when she slurps in and out
An ode to my past, I found my match
I hung up my jersey but chicks still wanna wear my throwback

Listener discretion is advised
Nudity and graphic language are in these lines
I captured lightening in a bottle, with my raunchy debacle
This like a page from a ghetto romance novel
Rated NC-17, Rated NC-17, Rated NC-17
Sex is the objective and sweet nothings is the smoke screen
Rated NC-17, Rated NC-17, Rated NC-17
The sticker logo taped over my mouth says Supreme