When women call him, they call him Butter
Not fly-guy, scrub or even cutter
And when they call him- he starts to stutter
Gotta get gotta get me some Butter!
So he says as his hands mime a train
What’s all this? What’s in a name?
Now his ladies start a shaking
For the sweet love he’s making
It might be a joke, it might be a game
Hey don’t hate the player, hate the game.
While his hands can do the speaking
His eyes do the sneaky seeking
His three finger gesture speculates
Enunciate the point he wants to make
With the guys he’s really fly
Way cooler than this white guy
On the court he can lay down the heat
A real machine cruising down the street
Yes, he is the master of the hip hop dance
Why he is the lover, the chocolate romance
He’s got game and a lot of fame
When those women see him they start to mutter
Gotta get gotta get me some Butter!
Butter gives me the (Ni@@er) Please! look that he thinks he has patented when I suggest that this should be his theme song. Butter is African American from Philadelphia. He tells me he took a wrong turn outside Cincinnati and ended up here in the southland. I know that he came down here to another university/college to do his Masters and somehow got sidetracked.
If you saw all the women who came around to see Butter each day then you would understand how I think he got sidetracked.
He leans back and says:
"Don't hate the player, hate the Game."
I agree not knowing whether we are back to talking about sports (which I hate) or women (who apparently hate me but not Butter).
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