lirik lagu bo burnham - i'm bo yo
[verse 1]
i don’t know if all boy scouts are g-ys
they could probably “tie the knot” in like fifty different ways
got a safe full o’ cherries, ’cause i pop it and lock it
a girl’s like a fridge, once a week you should stock it
girl, if you’re into rimmin’, it’s only safe if you’re swimmin’
but girl, don’t sit on that couch, ’cause i treat my objects like women
i spit fire like i just blew a demon
my sh-t’s so hot i’ll leave your toilet bowl steamin’
i’m gonna tear it, like the cards of the gypsies
you’ll bleed for so long you’ll get monthly ellipses
and if your pants are loose, i’ll replete ya
you’re a first time vegan and it’s nice to meet ya
[hook]
i’m bo yo
i’m the greatest rapper ever
and i’ll weather your weather whether you think i’m clever or not
think you’re better, you’re not
don’t need a sweater, i’m hot
i’m a real g, shawty, that can really find your g-spot
whoa, yeah
hey…what the f-ck’s a g-spot?
[verse 2]
go to a v-g-n- orchard, count 1, 2, 3
spin that plant around, you got a third world country
that’s right, consider yourself warned
i’m offensive and creative like handicapped p-rn
you’re playing with your br–sts, excuse me, can i try it ma’am?
you’re pushin’ em together like a t-tty venn diagram
look at that crack! excuse me can i buy a gram?
right below your diaphragm, -ss looks like you’re hidin’ ham
first base, we’re makin’ out
second base, i’m gettin’ faked out
i said, third base, i’m gettin’ take out
and i’d try to take it home if i knew i’d take it out
but i just don’t know, i said i just don’t care
i said my flow’s so cold i need a tampon from a polar bear
and you can spell and smell my stink
b.o. lingers and it makes you think
[hook]
i’m bo yo
and i’m the greatest rapper ever
and i’ll weather your weather whether you think i’m clever or not
think you’re better, you’re not
don’t need a sweater, i’m hot
i’m a real g, shawty, that can really find your g-spot
whoa, yeah
provided that you point me in the general direction
well, get ready
[verse 3]
’cause girls are like donuts when i be bustin’ bo nuts
i can make ’em cream-filled or give them a layer of glaze
i’m like doug’s friend skeeter whenever i meet her
because i skeet her so hard you could call her patty mayonnaise
(oh! nickelodeon and c-m!)
(what?)
yo, i’m blowin’ up like i thought i would
i’m circ-mcised, ’cause i don’t c-m from the hood
my girl is epileptic ’cause she’s the one i’m jerkin’ with
come on, you asian child laborer, show me what you’re workin’ with… (ooh, large machinery?)
’cause there’s an inverse relationship between respect and sects
i’m talking about religious sects like a mormon sect
that says you can’t have s-x with members of the different sects
but you can’t have s-x with members of the same s-x
so if the sects can’t be different, the s-x can’t be same
then the only s-x left is some left hand shame
and girl i left you ’cause you left the game
and if that don’t feel right then you can write my name
[hook]
’cause i’m bo yo
and i’m the greatest rapper ever
and i’ll weather your weather whether you think i’m clever or not
think you’re better, you’re not
don’t need a sweater, i’m hot
i’m a real g that can really find your g spot
whoa, yeah
oh, but i’m inadequate
have i gotten that point across yet? (how original)
[verse 4]
yo, my junk’s so long that it hangs and swings
so at the nude beach people think i’m lookin for lost rings
play the skin flute, your big boy sings
if you want to take it all wear african neck rings
(they make your neck longer, cause, um um… f-ck it.)
haters call me g-y, but that ain’t hatin’
cause i’m not h0m-phobic, my morals are straight, and
if i’m in the closet then you are below me
takin’ the b-a-t out of bas-m-nt, homie, yeah
yo, yeah, what
[hook]
’cause i’m bo yo
and i’m the greatest rapper ever
and i’ll weather your weather whether you think i’m clever or not
think you’re better, you’re not
don’t need a sweater
i’m a real g, that can really find your what now?
oh, yeah, well i’m bo yo, yo, what
i’m representing you
i’m representing the people from the 01982, yo
oh, yeah, what
yo, motherf-cker, tinkle
yeah
.
.
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