Lyrics:
Clap yo' hands and now stomp yo' feet
Bo Diddley back in the driver's seat
Speed down the highway doin' ninety-five
Ain't nobody gonna pass me by
and Bo talks in the third person.
Just relax, if you wanna know me, here's two facts
I hate catchy choruses and I'm a hypocrite.
Hungry, hungry
Anyway, text me, okay, bye
Mister Burnham
How ya doin', good? Good
Uh, I'm a, uh, I'm an agent from out in Los Angeles
Uh, really dig your stuff man,
skool, I'm all skool
Marley Marl, rock yo' spot
This that old skool overseen by Scott LaRock
I'm not old skool or new skool, I'm all skool
I'm not old
wouldn't be a limit on the places to live
Amd I hope my as-pi-ra-ti-ons are shared by you
Cos I'm gonna seek ya
Bo bo bo Boca Chica
Bo bo bo Boca Chica
Bo bo
on the news and now I'm famous
That cracker's so annoying
When I see him it's on sight, no toyin' with me
He's like a less talented Bo Burnham
He could die
[Don Magin Juan]
Bo$$ Playa. Bo$$ Playa.
Big Snoop Dogg is a Bo$$ Playa.
This is the arch bishop Don Magic Juan
Skin and Game, yea
[Chorus]
Get the fuck up!
Simon says get the fuck up!
Throw ya hands in the sky (Bo! Bo! Bo! Bo! Bo!)
Queens is in the back sipping 'gnac, y'all wassup?
This is Bo Burnham
He is twenty-two years old, he's a male
And he looks like the genetic product of a giraffe having sex with Ellen Degeneres
He
lead
Take my hand, and roll with me
And live it up, with a D-O-double-G, lavishly
[Chorus]
[Ron Isley]
Hey girl, what's yo' fantasy?
Can I take
da daah doe dah-dut
Bo bum bee ah dat, Di-ig
Crush you! We're going to, crush you!
I'm stuck on Band-Aid, cause
Band-Aid's stuck on me
Hee hee hee
and fly high
Bo! Bo! and fly high like Bo! Bo!
So on this road to success, I grew up in the boat o'y'all
Gettin closed by the jets
I learned my code
I'm 16 and I got nothing to live for I'll just go outside and open up my car
Door. I'm 16, why should I even live? Who even still watches Sid
on dynamite dynamite
Uh check it out, uh uh
Yo yo yo yo yo check it out
Eve-ry bo-dy, touch this Illa-Fifth Dynamite
C'mon, touch this Illa-Fifth Dynamite
Here we go yo, here we go yo
So what, so what, so what's the scenario?
Here we go yo, here we go yo
So what, so what, so what's the scenario?
there's no
Time to stop no time to explain man I'm in too deep with this everyday
Ghetto pain
Black men are judged by their clothes
Black women are
from yo' friends
Fuckin models, drinkin Alize by the bottles
Eleven hundred ??, and my hand's on the throttle
Chorus: Snoop Dogg (paraphrasing Masta
Now dis one dedicated to de man dem call MacGyver (bo!)
And all double-oh-seven James Bond man 'e from de area (gunshot, gunshot)
Maximum respect
Show me the gato
I'm Choppa, but she call me "El Chapo"
'Bout by peso, moula, guapo
Play with my queso, knock the shell out your taco
Feel it, hit
Here we go, yo, here we go, yo
So what, so what, so what's the scenario?
Here we go, yo, here we go, yo
So what, so what, so what's the scenario?
through your clothes like an ion
I am no american idol, no Simon Cowell
Wack niggas throw in the towel
I'm getting money with the rap, pay me by the vowel
Here we go yo, here we go yo
So what, so what, so what's the scenario?
Here we go yo, here we go yo
So what, so what, so what's the scenario?
Buachaill o/n E/ireann Me/'s bhe/as faoi fe/in caili/n deas o/g,
Ni/ iarr fain bo/ spre/ le/ithe ta/ me/ fe/in saibhir go leor,
's liom corcaigh 'a/
.jpg/215px-Bo_Burnham_Montaclair_Film_Festival_(cropped).jpg "Bo Burnham")
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