Chicken Sexer

Raw chicken
Or a white couple on a mission
The drumsticks are her legs wrapped around his waist
As if she’s trying to keep his pants on, haha, too little, too late

The bottom where the cockerel at
Because in 4 minutes the bun in the oven taking the top rack
The oven window fogged up
Opening the door will get ya hot and bothered

Roast chicken
Or a black couple in position
The wings are her arms wrapped around his back
The nails dig in when it’s time to eat, fruit roll-up tongue looking like a snack

Somebody done ate too much
Now you gotta unbutt, unbutt, unbutt
Somebody took many many licks
Now you gotta unzip, unzip, unzip
Somebody had too much sauce
Why don’t you just take your pants off, off, off

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Bomb A** Eggs (WordPresident #20)

Inspired by rain and my son. Only 1000 IQ and Big PP will understand.

Pitter patter of baby Jesus tears on the orange, blue, green and yellow panes
Pitter patter of Jesús tiny feet across the hardwood
Until he knocked the lava lamp to the floor
The higher ground is the coffee table
“Ahhh that’s hot!”
Splishy splashy into the galette des rois
Excuse my French, that’s molten chocolate
Fly like MJ
To the wall, get high like the boyfriend of MJ
Now the tar heels and 10 little piggies are safe in Charlotte’s web
The flash of lightning enlightened him on, where he parked his race car bed
The thunder stole some brodie’s thunder and made the Thunderbird’s alarm go off
Bolted to the bolts and pushed the little red button
“Ahhh that’s not hot!”
Thanks to terrible two’s temper tantrum T-Bird hasn’t left the nest
“Ahhh that’s hot!”
The pitter patter of our amigo off set is 172 centimeters on the growth chart
But the cries in Spanish takes off the popcorn ceiling, my monte negro
“Tell me you’re JKing? That babbling was about something else, baby boy”
“You remember the little red button? Oh! The red button there kid, don’t ever, ever touch the red button!”
“Now I’m kicking these bomb ass scrambled eggs off the airplane”
“Go to your woom and fall asleep at the wheel”
“Look at him! Walking like he drunk” SMH
“Aye, B.C. , please catch some Z’s so my XY can go from E to F in his V”
The F stands for full, not ‘cause you got some of my bomb ass eggs
Only Special K between the box and the bag for U … SWERVE
“You’sa corn pops”
Nah, the hand that rocks the cradle just cares about passing the rock to the hot hand
There’s holes in de-fense
Shoot the J, shoo-shoo-shoot it
No matter if he’s the cereal killer and I’m being a pig, the PTO is still spent having Life for breakfast
So I guess my son caught the W? I’ll take that L and right on cue J-R lets me know it’s the lowercase l to remind me I’m still number 1
But yo! Our last time out, short hand ticked me off asking me to read text messages for his bedtime story
No-no-no-no-no wonder you saying G-G-G-G like 50 Cent instead of goo-goo ga-ga
GN, I’ma let you get some R & R
But at 0600 hours if you don’t have your walkie talkie right the games stop I’m throwing Green Eggs and Ma’am at you

Where On The Doll Did He Touch You?

Where on the Barbie doll did he touch you?
The pessimist manicured fingernail points to the cup full
Before I could chug along she made me spit out, ‘what, two?!’
Where else on the Barbie doll did he touch you?
Turn it over, flip it around? Ermahgerd! A finger up the butt too?!
Just when I was losing all hope
I ask the same question to a different girl than befo’
“Play with another doll, Barbz doesn’t have a soul”
If he made you feel alive why did you let him go?
“Was a good guy but I pointed at Chucky’s back hi-de-ho”
“And it cost me dearly, I pointed at the arm and leg on G.I. Joe”
Got a rise outta her when I pointed at the armpits on Elmo
Nananananananana-no
That meant I wanna wrap my arm around you and console
“Or you’re trying to put me under your wing to smell your Dove”
It’s Speed Stick, and I pointed at Passport Bear’s cockpit, that’s why you only get half-a-hug

Hush Puppies (WordPresident #19)

Warning: Only people with high iq and big pp will understand the following dankness:

I call ‘em defeated

My dogs are barking in these hush puppies

Dr. Scholl sho’ can talk to animals, said this little piggy didn’t go “wee-wee” when the tears piss bolted to the booties you’re in, the boar cried woof

Foot counting sheep, I’m sleep-walking catching Z’s

The cousin of six-feet-deep easy as A-B-C-1-2-3, when in one position long enough

That’s why the cousin of life is relocation

Even if it’s the same job, least it come with different faces

My boss don’t care if I can barely move

I want a boss that’ll send me home without a box

Now I’m on a busty bus keeping abreast of bottoms up – when they no longer sitting abreast I’m flying like a Great Tit but aww shucks I don’t have strong feet like ‘em and gotta use the poles for support

Then I heard “I’m seeing how you gotta use your hands son. Why don’t you take a seat right over there?” I wanted to bounce these checks

The 13’s, legs open, tongue out, ca-ream, but running back in these kicks isn’t a chief asset

And so the seat got taken from me like a game of musical chairs

I was listening to the 3rd song on Good Girl Gone Bad

I guess they was between “Something In The Way” and “Endless, Nameless”

Uhhh nevermind this is my stop