"Bo Fo Sho" lyrics
Ok, on that note I'm gonna rap
Walkin' my poodles, man this never gets old
With my dogs on my leash I've got bitches on the hold
A first AIDS kit, that's a racist monkey
I bust more nuts than a pistachio junkie
I, I get more ass than a giant donkey stable
I 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
Hey, Jesus loves you as long as you're white
Did you poop a virgin 'cause that shit is tight
Hey, I'm blowin' up like I thought I would
I'm circumcised 'cause I don't come from the hood
Yo, I do drugs in the bedroom lying your back
'Cause I gots the pipe and you gots the crack
Though I'm sexually straight, you're bound to find I'm mentally gay
'Cause I'll blow your mind, ma'am
The parent's be snickering, he shouldn't have written it
But I'm constipated, I couldn't give a shit
What, motherfucker, what, yo, he-he this kid's a virgin
My name is Bo Fo' Sho'
A born Bostonian
Aryan librarian at the word Smithsonian
The rap is scattered, it hides its ingenuity
I gave it this little part to give it continuity
Uh, fucking feel it, yeah
Yo, huh, where are we?
And the fellas say: Hey moron pass the gin
'Cause I'm an Oxymoron breathin' Oxygen
Gimme the bottle I'll chug two thirds
'Cause you bitches know fractions speak louder than words, oh
And the ladies say: Hey fellas, I'm keeping it tight
And if you play your cards right, you can have me tonight
Shall 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 at the word Smithsonian
The rap is scattered, it hides its ingenuity
I gave it this little part to give it continuity
Walkin' through the garden, food at my feet
Picked up the cellary, but dropped the beat
Yeah, and then I picked it up
(And then, if there was music, it would get faster)
Let's end this
Yo, we're in the hood
I'll take what you give me
Was Einstein's theory good? Relatively
A smart queen's kingdomn, it doesn't mix
A liter of literates, a bunch of Moby Dicks
"Get thee to a punnery" oh-just-to-pheelia
Take you with a condom, Stainless-steel ya
Half a pound of turkey breast
Half a pound of chicken tits
Why are only crackers stayin' at the Ritz?
Poverty racism, isn't it strange
That only the homeless are begging for change
A shocked Sherlock
What, son?
Rosa Parks, didn't call "shotgun"
Here's a little bit of irony
A Ford Focus driver's got ADD
How did I get to master all these things?
Like a tampon thief, I had to pull some strings
Walkin' my poodles, man this never gets old
With my dogs on my leash I've got bitches on the hold
A first AIDS kit, that's a racist monkey
I bust more nuts than a pistachio junkie
I, I get more ass than a giant donkey stable
I 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
Hey, Jesus loves you as long as you're white
Did you poop a virgin 'cause that shit is tight
Hey, I'm blowin' up like I thought I would
I'm circumcised 'cause I don't come from the hood
Yo, I do drugs in the bedroom lying your back
'Cause I gots the pipe and you gots the crack
Though I'm sexually straight, you're bound to find I'm mentally gay
'Cause I'll blow your mind, ma'am
The parent's be snickering, he shouldn't have written it
But I'm constipated, I couldn't give a shit
What, motherfucker, what, yo, he-he this kid's a virgin
My name is Bo Fo' Sho'
A born Bostonian
Aryan librarian at the word Smithsonian
The rap is scattered, it hides its ingenuity
I gave it this little part to give it continuity
Uh, fucking feel it, yeah
Yo, huh, where are we?
And the fellas say: Hey moron pass the gin
'Cause I'm an Oxymoron breathin' Oxygen
Gimme the bottle I'll chug two thirds
'Cause you bitches know fractions speak louder than words, oh
And the ladies say: Hey fellas, I'm keeping it tight
And if you play your cards right, you can have me tonight
Shall 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 at the word Smithsonian
The rap is scattered, it hides its ingenuity
I gave it this little part to give it continuity
Walkin' through the garden, food at my feet
Picked up the cellary, but dropped the beat
Yeah, and then I picked it up
(And then, if there was music, it would get faster)
Let's end this
Yo, we're in the hood
I'll take what you give me
Was Einstein's theory good? Relatively
A smart queen's kingdomn, it doesn't mix
A liter of literates, a bunch of Moby Dicks
"Get thee to a punnery" oh-just-to-pheelia
Take you with a condom, Stainless-steel ya
Half a pound of turkey breast
Half a pound of chicken tits
Why are only crackers stayin' at the Ritz?
Poverty racism, isn't it strange
That only the homeless are begging for change
A shocked Sherlock
What, son?
Rosa Parks, didn't call "shotgun"
Here's a little bit of irony
A Ford Focus driver's got ADD
How did I get to master all these things?
Like a tampon thief, I had to pull some strings
Writer(s): Bo Burnham
