all them bitches stuck on their britches
a little worn, a little torn at the stitches
keep 'em on, there better on the ground
hey, looks like you're what's going 'round
move over, got room for me?
make some room
unnecessary, very unnecessary
hard-wired hard-ons don't dream to carry
little lines and simple signs of youth
hey, where'd you hide that gospel truth?
move over, got room for me?
move over, make some room
no one wants a crowded womb
she's my flossy queen
she's making eyes from the screen
well she's so, she's so damn impenetrable
she's all up in the seams
dippin fingers in the cream
well she's so......
move on, now get gone, well, move on to what you're after