(verse 1)
I ain't gonna kiss you no more! Every kiss just breaks my heart! Tryna break the walls apart in my apartment before the state-of-the-art comes in to start talking about how late I am to the ancient art? Ain't that about a starting pitch! Argument? Baseball or the broad I'm with?! Thinkin' 'bout all of the offseason tickets I can get. Meaning, peace of mind, when I don't believe in shit! But here I am. I gotta give. Whether it's tolerance or a lot of fibs. No, that doesn't make you look fat. No, that song isn't wack. No, that's not really crack. Whatever the problem is, I got the solution. But what happens when I ain't got my music?
(hook)
Your lips... taste like oatmeal!
Tastes like oatmeal.
Your kiss... taste like oatmeal!
Tastes like oatmeal.
Put some butter on it!
Put some butter on it!
Lil sugar on it!
Put some butter on it!
(verse 2)
Call me the 8-bit threat. What I say next ain't ancient yet. "Make a mistake!" God damn! Bley-ki-ki-blek! There you go. Take your respect! Niggas ain't listen, so Blake got connected with the rim. Without touching it. Throwing it in. Griffin. Like Peter. Or is it Gilmore? Whoever's a believer, I go "deeper and deeper" like the guy needs a weave to stretch. Believe that she's right there as you write. There, Barry White. Are we married tonight? Yeah! Nightmare! But she ain't right there with me. She dares to kiss me again. And my heartbeat... going retarded. It's not getting kissed. Oh my God, bitch...!
(hook)
Your lips... taste like oatmeal!
Tastes like oatmeal.
Your kiss... taste like oatmeal!
Tastes like oatmeal.
Put some butter on it!
Put some butter on it!
Lil sugar on it!
Put some butter on it!
(verse 3)
More distinction than what you're thinking. Keep it to yourself. Maybe you will blink. Be a star. Be a far place to rest, while I lay to rest ancient bets. "He ain't got it!" "He ain't Gothic!" "He ain't watch it!" Take a suggestion. Make a mistake, I say yes. Blake, to the death of the rim. It's a contest, now. All star! Now y'all all are Charles! Feelin' good, aren't y'all? Well I got this smart broad, that could take my life from all y'all... with a kiss, though. Listening to disco. Turn up the Crisco. Let it pop, till the bitch go...
(hook)
Your lips... taste like oatmeal!
Tastes like oatmeal.
Your kiss... taste like oatmeal!
Tastes like oatmeal.
Put some butter on it!
Put some butter on it!
Lil sugar on it!
Put some butter on it!
^
^
^
Imagine Curtis Mayfield using Aveeno's Oatmeal lotion to jerk off, and his 6-year old granddaughter giving him head while he's sleep. When he wakes up, she screams "Yo dick!, taste like oat-meal!"
^
^
Imagine Curtis Mayfield using Aveeno's Oatmeal lotion to jerk off, and his 6-year old granddaughter giving him head while he's sleep. When he wakes up, she screams "Yo dick!, taste like oat-meal!"
lol based on true events.
#ImOutside!!!!!
