Me and my tennis bitch J H-D
sat in the car through the whole partee.
No matter how soft the upholsteree
she just isn't coming across for me –
not till I make her my bride-to-be.
Hey, says Joan, Don't jump the gun.
So it's hands in laps till quarter to one.
Up in the Club the place was jumping.
Me in the car-park dreaming humping.
Hormones thumping.But her's weren't pumping.
So me and my manhood stayed well caged
and all we did was get engaged.
Joan is nothing but a prick-tease prankster.
So till we're married I'm a gangsta wanksta.