Bo Fo Sho

See you later, incredibly hot chick! Come back any time and do sexual things, like how we were just doing. Oh hey! Uh, ok, this is a new rap. Um, I'm Bo Burnham. This one is just straight wordplay, no gimmicks, just lyricism. Rock 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 A.I.D.S. 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, 'cuz that shit is tight Jack ain't Black and Barry ain't White I do drugs in the bedroom Lie on your back 'Cuz I gots the pipe and you gots the crack And though I'm sexually straight, you're bound to find I'm mentally gay, 'cuz I'll blow your mind The parents be snickering, "He shouldn't have written it," But I'm constipated--couldn't give a shit [Refrain:] My name is Bo, fo sho, a born Bostonian Aryan librarian and the wordsmith--sonian The rap is scattered, it has its ingenuity I gave it this little part to give it continuity [Brief instrumental interlude] And the fellas say, "Hey moron, pass the gin," 'Cuz I'm an oxymoron breathing oxygen Give me the bottle, I'll chug two thirds 'Cuz 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 [Refrain] [Brief instrumental interlude] 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 yah Take you with a condom, stainless steel yah Half a pound of turkey breast, half a pound of chicken tits 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? Roza Parks didn't call shotgun Here's a bit of irony: a Ford Focus driver's got A.D.D 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!