I was walking in the park, in the noon
When I saw her, she was beautiful
Like a flower in the summer, what a bummer
I wish I could talk to her, I got my nerve up
And then I started to walk to her
I said, "hello", she said, "hi"
I said, "You're so beautiful, won't you be mine?"
She was beautiful, she was beautiful
She was beautiful, oh she was beautiful
Now we're in my house, I took the pants off the wench
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....The fuckin' bitch had syphilis, I cracked her in the face with a wrench
Now she's on the floor, like a dirty whore, reaching for the door
I bashed her in the face some more, you fuckin' ****
I'll teach you to disease people
She laughed at me and said, "Yo, their ain't no skeez equal, to me"
Fantasia taught me everything, I'm a pro
I told her, "You won't blow no more"
She tried to get live, I tied her up, I put eight condoms on my dick
Attach razors to it, and slide right up and rip the crabs out the crack
Lubricate my cock with strychnine, just in case gonorrhea attacks
This bitch giggled as I snuffed her
She said, "You can find me everywhere, my name is STD, I'll be your lover"
I went to Rome and got some Roman armor and some blacksmiths
Gave 'em rubber and make something elastic
A metal condom for my cock, now STD is beaten for now but she'll be back up
Just a little fuckin' warning, for all you fuckin' sluts
That try to be fuckin' look beautiful, but deep down
You got a fuckin' stinkbox, a nasty stinkbox
Don't do it, don't do it
If you look beautiful, be beautiful everywhere
Don't be dirty under there
Cause this is two-thirds of the schizo, and shit could get evil like the bea
I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station
Running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know
Lie la lie...
Asking only workman's wages
I come looking for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there
Lie la lie...
Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me,
Leading me, going home.
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
Bitches they come they go,
Saturday through Sunday Monday,
Monday through Sunday yo,
Maybe ill love you one day,
maybe ill love will grow,
till then just sit your drunk ass on that f***ing runway ho.