You have the sculpted body of a brother from Mozambique.
Exuding raw heat, your mentality reminds me of thug off the street.
If recounting a litany of your sexual prowess is supposed to be my cue,
My brother reality says I wouldn't share my body with the likes of you.
So coming at me is a waste of your weak game.
Cause if I chose to I could mind-sex you so quick
your boys would be lip-syncing my name.
Verbally I'd caress your hairy chest
leaving your pitiful imagination to do the rest.
Stroked only by melodies from my vocal chord,
I'd speech whip your penis and keep it hard.
Sugah you're a featherweight, a minor distraction.
You wouldn't last one round in my pursuit of male attraction.
Just so you know....I can talk shit like the woman I'm not.
But, there's no need for pretense to prove I'm hot.
When trying to impress me all that bling-bling don't mean a thing.
If with me you're looking for half a chance
serenade me with smooth jazz and a chaste slow dance.
You want to excite me?
Well baby simply recite me some poetry.
c opyright # TXu1-260-432
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