Respect The Broccoli Cock - Sage Francis

I’ve got broccoli cock.

How many vegetarian women are in the house

And would like to stuff their mouth with my chlorophyll?

I gets more than ill

I left heads for deaths beds with my morbid skill

And i’ve got whores to kill, excluding Lauryn Hill

Lauryn Hill’s pretty and her voice rules

And she sings other people’s songs so well

Kiss but don’t tell and if you ever do

That’ll be the last time i take you to the heavy petting zoo

We can dry hump until the cows come home

Run up the cattle while I treat my rug burned

Cauliflower love burns, son ya heard?

It branches out in every which way

And lubrication comes from what your lips spray

Some what that kid say, what I said yo

My bitches got mad flavor heavy flow

Mentally I’m busting more cherries than that kid named Telly

I’m friendly like Casper after i take advantage and vanish

I’d ask you your name but I couldn’t care less

I’m just wondering if those are real breasts

So now I’m checking out your headlights, you ran the red light, special

Squeezing my head tight

Pressed right into your out-of-proportion chest,

All right, they’re mad fake

Now I’m just concerned with whether or not they can lactate, no?

Turn around and make that ass shake, ho

For false advertising, wasn’t that surprising?

I mean with all that experience

You still don’t know how to work around your periods,

Get a calendar and stop prostituting your love notes from J.D. Salinger

Don’t make me get mad at ya, I’ve got nothing but love for ya,

I’ve got nothing but love, for dumb sluts

Hike up your skirt a little more,

Why even bother wearing a shirt if it’s so small, whore

Show off your naval with some ornaments,

You won all events in the whore tournaments,

Congratulations, gold medal finalist.

I don’t mind your mindlessness,

It’s the only reason I exist.

Timeless mind, ageless body, hardly, sage’s hobby, probably

Speaking male chauvinist pig latin to some outrageous hotty, naughty

Do I make you horny baby, do I?

Didn’t think so, drink slow and I’ll be more fly

You can judge a harlot by the thickness of her beer goggles,

Turning the most repulsive weird cock pools into Calvin Klein underwear models

Convenient isn’t it, I’m not lenient when I’m ripping it,

Nor am I as obedient, barefoot pregnant in the kitchen shit

But what’s the ingredient when bitches strip, I’m just not seeing it

It’s not intricate, they need to think of it

I mean I’m sexually frustrated, that’s where all this hate is coming from

Sage Francis, Non-Prophets and I’m still not a done… done… done… done…

done…