A Name I Call Myself

(альбом: 93 'Til Infinity - 1993)

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Adam is the man that got more honies than a hive of
Bees, I skeeze, I'm pullin stunts like MacGyver
And I try to, always be patient with a Miss
But I diss 'cause groupies always seem to make me pissed
Huh, they gotta be fronting, wanting to start a phony friendship
I never pretend, the thing I befriend be them hips
And send dips, back to they moms with a grin
But if she's a boo boo head I tell no-one that I got in

Yo, skins friends I got a lotta, and I gotta
Bend them and then blend all the hottie
Spurts be burstin like a mile a minute
'Cause I can either take it slow or yo I wild up in it
I'm pulling, yes 'cause fully dressed or threadbare they're nice
I twist my sides to tickle thighs when my head's there
I now rips sets so foul dips spread my rep
I sew the girls up like Schweppes, so many kids might fret

Afterwards I'm bouncing dips like tits on chicks
Who be running track, but they be running back for more
Rest assured, it's absurd for her to be on linger
I get the finger, 'cause she can't get the stinger
Any longer, my dong can stretch and I'm stronger
I got the daddy ding-a-ling to get you hot and bothered
Get the kinks out when my stink in the pink shout and scream
But a second fling is but a dream

From day one I played hoes in the schoolyard, my tool heartless
But not for dips submerging it ain't hurt men to merge in
My status, from baddest to Tims, I'm pulling more hips
Than gravity, and after the skins get hit, I'm drowsing
Arousing the next dousing the next gals in my saliva
The liver ones 'cause I don't strive to run in no dumb females
Some be swell, but, my picks so why tricks
Get restricted to flicks with boo boo heads, I screw you dead

I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man

Niggas cling, and get attached to things on the fluke
That's insane, I just be in and bang, get boots
For gosh sakes, that broad shakes, her thang to the whole game
The way the labia lips hang it's a sad shame
Clapping when you're tapping, just hit the scraps and be at 'em
The breasts sag like they're saddened
The skins are wrinkled, dry, worn, and battered
Leave her shattered, she's as fly as a maggot

The him I am, the man I'm him
Busting skins out, I been stout, erect
Checking dips when I'm wrecking lips and clitorises
Hit her with this (Boom bow bang!)
Swinging from my you-know-what
So you know butt cheeks are clapping
Tapping the guts on the late with your date makes my ego flip
Read those lipstick marks on my penal tip
They don't lie, penis trip your dip to her thighs
Fly is my description, wise, when I'm making them lips bend

I hit it, I did it, I admit it
I never quit it, yes, I knock the boots like I was Riddick
Bowe, get with it, ho, I get with
No, Boomerang broads with nasty toes
Keep your corns on your husk you muskrat
But if she's fly, I try to bust that
Gluteus maximus, I wax and bust
I'm taxing just to be the mack man Plus

Once I been with women, friendship done been the sole outcome
How come skins can't work their way in?
The question resting late night at her pad and
Scheming to grabbing season, 'cause she's in
I fiend, getting mad horny, transforming charges
Into swinging me, seemingly hard miss
Let her know that I was on it
Now I got dibs on that crib, I'm welcome back 'cause I'm Kotter

I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man
I call myself the man