Bush Pilot - Buck 65

We should take a break from the computers and programs

And swing it back to my place for hooters and slow jams

For once.

I’m the type of guy who’ll surprise you with a cool disguise

And act out fantasies with dialogue and school supplies

South American tough nuts to crack open, but I’m determined, slim chance

To make it past the German implants and you-know-whats

Private parts, I’m hoping that you do go nuts and push while it

Happens baby, 'cause I’m the bush pilot

Be the one to tell your friends that you blew the stallion

Wearing nothing but my zulu medalion

And then maybe a pineapple sliced wedge between the labia and clitoris

Gave her a taste of the bitteress flavor in purple rain

Blues and the red whites, me and you can spend nights

Alone in the dark while I’m starin' at your headlights and highbeams

In my dreams with city streets and crosswalks

Pedestrian traffic, and my finger in the saucebox

Graphic with lost socks and underwear, a thousand kinds of Calvin Kleins

I caught you in the backroom with attachments for the vacuum

The syncronized swim team and punk rockers

Anorexic runway models with shrunk knockers

And all of them, with wide legs, the fried eggs and honey mustard

I’m eatin' out instead of buying groceries 'til the money’s busted

'Cause I don’t care, snackin' on your muffin, chewin' one more time

Like nothin' doin', it feels hot where the sun don’t shine

The way I blew your mind, you are not prepared to handle facts

In my command performance while I’m drippin' melted candle wax

Inside the beaver, got you open like a wide receiver

I like the way she licks behind the back when she’s sixty-ninin'