Standard (EADGBE)

Intro

spoken):

I feel like hip hop

Used to be a voice for the voiceless,

And now it's become, at least in the mainstream,

A symbol of misogyny, gay panic, fiscal irresponsibility.

So I figure,

If you can't beat 'em,

Join '[em].

Hittin' the club up VIP

I got a fake mustache and a fake ID.

I look like Wooly Willy

With a really wooly willy.

And I bypass the bouncer,

Pass by an ex and I flex and bounce her, wowser.

Look at all of Bo's hoes

Looking for a ride on Bo's hose.

And I spot a little Latino, booty so big call it Oprah's ego.

We go to it, through it, she says, "Dios mio mi amigo!"

Pull it out, stick it in your mouth, and I bust in the back of ya.

Swallow bitch, there's people starving in Africa!

(CHORUS)

Single every single day

Do it every single way

Make the single ladies say

Oooh Bo

And if I were gay,

Though I swear I'm straight,

I'd make them fellas say...

You're an ice cream sundae with a cherry on top,

But careful, cherry, 'cause I'm the King of Pop.

Pop pop pop goes my weasel,

Now ya looking like Jackson Pollock's easel.

My suggestion is:

You don't blow 'til you know what congestion is,

Swallow when you know what digestion is.

Follow Bo, the only question is:

Have you been splattered before

By the mad-hatter matador?

Cake-batter never more

It don't matter whether you're

Spanish, French,

Swedish or Cambodian,

I'll slime you so hard you could be on Nickelodeon.

(CHORUS)

You think that you can handle me?

Girl, don't make me laugh.

I said my junk is bipolar

It will split you in half (yea).

And if you're lucky,

I might just bring you home,

And I'll have you going down

Like you're growin' an extra chromosome.

And when you love me,

Don't grab me by the buns

'Cause I got a bad case of the ruunnnns.

I got the runs

I got the ru-u-u-uuuns

(CHORUS)

(Spoken)

(The rhythm in this part is kinda hard to tab out. It is still the same chords,

just a different rhythm)

I wanna break it down for ya'll

I came from the streets, with nothin'

Now I'm makin' hit records

For my people still livin' in the streets,

Still livin' in poverty, I wanna tell you

I'm doin' this for you.

My success is your success.

And I know you may be thinkin',

Hey, if you really believe that,

Why don't you use some of your money

To help rebuild the neighborhood

Instead of putting spinning rims on a gold jet ski?

And to that I say (uh, chorus is comin' out):

(CHORUS)

You gotta fume like a tuna,

I'll smell ya later.

I met a fat chick

And fucked her in an elevator.

It was wrong on so many levels.

It was wrong on so many le-le-le-levels.

It was wrong on so many levels (ugh).

(Transition up to )

It was wrong on, it was wrong on, it was wrong on

(NEW CHORUS)

Single every single

Do it every single

Pop that single like a Pringle jingle

Oooh Bo

This song's almost completed

All this little ditty needed

Instrument that's double reeded:

The oboe

(Yea)

Oh, Bo

Play that oboe