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By coujeaux Date: 2008 Jan 04 Comment on this Work [[2008.01.04.03.58.27885]] |
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Twister; ain't 'bout sister 'gainst mister, but another that dismissed her, a new two-kitty bag, No matter what we try fur's gonna fly, so grab a ducat and fit yourself with a restraining gag. Squaring and sneering, posturing and domineering; you thought we boys were macho beings, Compared to estrogen bluffs that escalate into fisticuffs brass knuckles look like teething rings. All I say is stay the Hell out of their way; little miss-want-some-of this ain't the least bit scared, Anyone thinks their fighting is little more than scratching and biting'll get their opinion repaired. Chicks ready to trade licks doesn't fit nurturance paradigm popularly propragated; well, maybe, Women putting up their dukes propheted from the Hollywood kooks who made Million Dollar Baby. Grunts, sweat and punches stealing the show from school lunches, soccer matches and photo ops, Rate we're going the next video Mom will be showing is of her killer crossover and four-foot hops. Hang your head, junior; your mother just dunked on your dad and called him her bitch; what sack! Hey, fellas, fuck that seven-foot stiff and draft her instead; watch how well she takes it to the rack! Competition and sport, it once was the man's court, but womankind could steal the crown as of yet, Heroines grow in stature and skills with each passing day and would take any publicity they can get. Battle of the sexes usually means egos the size of Texas; hers is bigger than his by any metric used, And we can't help but watch when she grabs her crotch while he writhes around, battered and bruised. Lady's got an agent, entourage, killer threads, oozes cool; junior seems at peace, dad's off the scene, A lot to do with the panties, brassiere and leash she made him wear in bed, if you catch what I mean. |