The act of makin love…is…

Pink cookies in a plastic bag, gettin crushed by buildings
Pink cookies in a plastic bag, gettin crushed by buildings

I'll take 30 electric chairs
And put'em in a classroom
30 MC's
And set'em free from thier doom.
Just like a tomahawk cuts through the wind
When we begin
The wheel of furtune it spins
Holdin'
The rhythm like elastic
Moldin'
Your whole body like plastic
So why try to deny what ya already know ya love
Up above
Cause the mania
Hysteria
In the streets
While ya lovers gettin merrier
In the sheets
I met this lady named
Sweet young thing and
She gave me that feelin
That sunshine bring in.
Hordable
Sportable
Totally affordable
Silky smooth
Voice was real audible.
I said your cool as Ice Cuba
She said, “your that Public Enemy
I seen on the tuba.”
Naw.
I'm like your Uncle baby.
The style of your beautiful face
Drives me crazy.
Well can we do ya so Heavy ah D?
She said, “You tried to play me
Like Big Dad-dy.”
I said, “I know your Tribe,
I Called and re-Quested
For you to be manifested.”
She said, “You know the Same Gang and my Flava Unit too?”
I said, “You only knew the certain things I wanna do, do you?”
Rub ya down with warm Ice-T
Make ya feel Bran Nubien
In-stant-ly.
Boogie Down
And check this Production.
Gimme them lips
They look good for suction.
She said, “Sweet tease
Cool with a little almond joy
On the side
Just doin' the fly”
You like poundcake?
Comin' to my house
Turn on the lights
And see me on the couch.
I said, “Do the jingle
And your from around the way.
I like your earrings
L's
But anyway…
Your grand-daddy is
Here to spread cheer.
Somethin nice and smooth
With my tounge in your ear.
Give me a snack
Some Salt And Pepper on a burger.
Ice Cube T
Or if you prefer the
Taste of honey Kid
Ride in my Capri and
That's the joint
They got the real clear CD in.
She said, “Stars couldn't get me in a car.
I don't know what type of man ya are.
You might know karate
Do me and get away
I got a glimpse of your license plate
N-W-A.”