Fix-Up/Mix-Up, Bitch!

Yo yo yo bitch welcome to my turf

It’s the greatest time of year

IN THE GREATEST PLACE ON EARF

Let’s all raise a glass, clap your hands, and shake a titty

IT’S NEW YEAR’S FUCKIN’ EVE right here in NEW YORK FUCKIN CITAAYYY READ MO, YO!

10

It’s summer and you think I’m gonna rap ’bout somethin’ lotional

Today’s a little different, y’all, forgive me if I’m ‘motional

Let’s take a little breather, slow it down and maybe park it

Put away your kale from your co-op hipster market

Let’s gather like it’s Pesach, all my sisters and my brothers

While I tell you why this night is so much DIFFERENT FROM THE OTHERS

So let’s all listen up, just relax or take a pill

And I’ll tell y’all the story cuz this shit ’bout to get RIL

Ten years ago today, in his junior year of college

Was a Jewey little pre-med who was fillin’ up with knowledge

(And frat parties and beer, but like, he was young and bonery

and KINDA maybe KINDA SORTA just a LITTLE stonery)

And while the other kids at Michigan sang “Hail to the VIC”

He was singin, “HAELLL, you guys, I feel kinda SICK”

He went and got some blood tests and was soon faced with the answer

And headed to the hospital with motherfucking cancer

When you go off to college, you might worry ’bout bulimia

And OBVIOUSLY herpes, but for real y’all, LEUKEMIA?

He did chemo, radiation, and the outcome still looked narrow

The kid needed a transplant of like, ALL of his bone marrow

He comes from this great family, they’re there for one another

And luckily he found a match in his little brother

(On a side note, join the donor list, PREACH THAT, Doctor Oz,

It’s tough to match minorities like blacks and ASHKENAZ)

In the midst of this he met a girl, which might sound real alarming

He may have been all bald and sick but WORKED it, and was charming

They chatted on IM (You remember that? I’m old…)

And she was super awesome, or like, that’s what I am told

They counted down his quarantine, the hurdles and the hoops

Their first kiss sent him to the hospital–can I get an OOPS?

So she asked him how long it would be till he’s out of the wood?

And he said 10 years post-transplant would be like, REALLY REALLY good

Ten years seemed like forever, so they just went on with life

They finished school, started careers, and then the girl became his wife

If you measure life in love LIKE RENT, then they had lots of wealth

And were thankful every day, for each other, and their health

And the boy became a cancer doc, yea, that deserves some clapping

The girl became an actress and she dabbles in Jew rapping

And though you can’t say ten whole years ever goes by fast

The day they waited for so long is finally here at last

I’m jappy rappy, never sappy, but these years have been a whirl

I’m so grateful for this guy, and I’m so lucky I’m his girl

If the cheesiness ain’t too much yet, well, now I’m ’bout to ruin it

Know where he’s at work today? The bone marrow transplant unit

He says fate can gently guide you, but sometimes it’s a firm push

And he’s one hell of a doctor, and has one hell of a tush

I try not to rap too personal, I usually berate it

But when life gives you a gift like this, you have to celebrate it

Life is full of ups and downs, it comes with hope and doubt

And there’s times when you should have your cake and blow your candles out

Happy 10 years, my sweet love, you took cancer and you beat it

Today’s the day you’ll have your cake and motherfuckin’ eat it

So let’s all celebrate today, even just a sliver

Cuz I have got a cake I’ve waited ten years to deliver

word.

Post Wedding 3_2_2

Trust, Bitch.

Yo sometimes I leave town when I’m doin’ a show

And bitch, I miss my husband like, more than you know

Without me he’s so sad, he’s prob’ly home singin’ a ballad

And crying lonely tears into our FAVORITE TACO SALAD

And he’ll be sitting there confused and really feeling a loss

Cuz I’m the one who always orders extra SPICY YELLOW SAUCE

What if he’s so lonely he just takes up Dianetics?

I’m a worrier, bitch, THANK YOU JEWISH GENETICS

But I don’t worry ’bout him cheating, he’s too good to scratch that itch

And I hung posters ’round Manhattan warning I WILL CHOKE A BITCH

So all them ladies in New York know that they BETTA stay real far

Yeah, they know it like they know Dan Smith will TEACH THEM THE GUITAR

And though I’m doin’ MY thang, I just can’t seem to forget

All my worries that his needs aren’t bein’ mothafuckin’ MET

So the other day I’m worryin’ that he’s at home unstable

When my phone rings with an email from our friends at OPENTABLE

If you don’t use OpenTable, then yous GOTSTA be insane

Bitch, we NEED our reservations, we ain’t ANTHONY BOURDAIN

And the emails come to me, not because I am imperious

We’re just Jewish and we take our OpenTable points FOR SERIOUS

“Table for 2, Friday night,” a confirmation

With an email like that, one might resort to castration

(For me, it put an end to my past week of constipation)

And then my email rings AGAIN! Who’s it from? Bitch, are you curious?

Fandango.com! Two seats for FAST and FUCKIN’ FURIOUS

And fast and furious was I, all my trust flew out the door

My heart goes racing wildly, I’m gonna kill this whore

My hands shook as I dialed, cuz the news kinda impaled me

But it only rang through twice–OH NO HE DIN-UNT—HE VOICEMAILED ME!

So I sent that boy a text like, “MOTHERFUCKER–WHERE YOU ARE??”

Typing…Typing…he’s like, “DYLAN’S mothafuckin’ CANDY BAR!”

And my anger turned to sadness, this shit REALLY hurt my fillins

That’s our very special thing–PRE-MOVIE mothafuckin’ DYLAN’S

He knows the mix I like: gummies bottom, chocolate middle,

Topped with TONS of sour shit, and like, ONE Sour Skittle

He knows that once I dig in, I just giggle like I’m tickerish

When the perfect ‘mout of sour gets on that AUSTRALIAN LICORICE

And basically, he knows that when he makes that mix of candy

There’s 100% success rate that he’ll prolly get a handy

Just right then phone rang, it was him and I was seething

But I calmly said hello and I practiced LAMAZE BREATHING

(NO, Mom…no)

“Whatcha doin’ tonight?” He’s like, “A movie and a drinkler”

“OH YEAH??” “WITH WHOM? ” He’s says, “With FUCKIN’ Jason FUCKIN’ Finkler”*

 (*not exactly a direct quote I don’t think)

(AND BITCH, you BETTA know your WHO from WHOM–sorry for the pause,

BUT YOU GOTSTA KNOW use WHOM when it’s the OBJECT OF A CLAUSE)

“JASON FINKLER??” I said, and I felt like such a sucker

“JASON FINKLER!” he says, “IT’S A MAN DATE, MOTHER FUCKER”*

(*again, not like 100% sure that was the exact quote)

“Fandango and Dylans?” I say, “Those are OUR routines!”

He’s like, “I changed the mix cuz Jason really likes his JELLY BEANS”

“Did you get two separate bags?” He’s all, “No–we’re gonna share”

“We’ll just put it on the armrest of the MOTHAFUCKIN’ chair”

“And OpenTable for a man date? Dudes just go to burger joints!”

He’s like, “Baby, I am serious ABOUT MY FUCKIN’ POINTS”*

(*actually this may have been a direct quote)

So I told him, “Go have fun with Jason Finkler on your date”

“And call me when it’s over, and Aar–don’t stay out too late”

I then put down my phone, so ashamed I freaked and fussed

When I know I married my best friend, whoM I can always trust

And really, was I worried that someone would date and kiss him?

Nah–truth is when I’m gone, I simply really fuckin’ miss him

And while I’m here it’s nice to know he’s taken care of by good friends

And Finkler, if you cared, perhaps some nookie when it ends

Jason, I’m just kidding you, you know I like to joke ya

(Cuz Finkler if you did, you saw the signs, I’D FUCKIN’ CHOKE YA)

And Fast and Furious? I’d NEVER, even if you paid me MILLINS

(Or I’d see it for a handy and two pounds from fuckin’ Dylan’s)

word.

222814_904360891545_1280311_n(Names have been changed to protect the totally innocent Jordan fuckin’ Finkler)

Menstrual Man, Bitch.

If you’re livin’ with a lady, then you know there’s nothing worse

Than that one week of the month when she gets the fuckin’ CURSE

No matter what you say, there will always be a fight

For that week (and more) you’re wrong, I mean, ladies, am I right?

So don’t bother with affection, you’re just wasting all your doting

Cuz we’d rather be alone with our Chipotle, gas, and bloating

And though I do want that burrito, I’m not trying to brag

But I really don’t get moody when I’m on the fuckin’ RAG

Now, please don’t be mistaken, thinkin’ that’s so advantageous

Because lately I’m convinced that menstrual symptoms are contagious

I have lots of detailed evidence, I’m sharing just a kernel

I’MMMA publish all this shit in the New England fuckin’ JOURNAL

It’s a medical wonder, but to you I will confess:

That when I get my ladies, my man gets the PMS

I think the estrogen just floats around and does a little switchy

I get the zits and bloating and my husband GETS THE BITCHY

Don’t get me wrong, he is a dude, all manly and testicular

But on that one week he’s stubborn and he’s so crazily particular

He’s perfect all the other weeks, with hardly any flaws

So I’ll put up with all this shit UNTIL WE MENOPAUSE

I could tell so many stories cuz the instances are ample

But here is just the latest–I’M ‘BOUT TO GIVE YOU AN EXAMPLE:

Last weekend we went out of town to see our good friends marry

Our flight was Friday evening when the traffic can be hairy

We planned to cab it straight from work which was already quite darin’

But we couldn’t miss this wedding MAZEL TOV TO BEN AND ARYN

So Friday morning when he left for work, my guy knew he’d been meaning

To drop of his enormous load of dirty damn dry cleaning

‘Twas seven in the morning and of course he had supposed

That the cleaners would be open, but bitch, they were fuckin’ closed

Hong’s Cleaners is his favorite, whether April, June, or March

He goes there all year long because he LOVES THE WAY THEY STARCH

He passed by 5 other stores because their starch is “reprehensible”

So he brought that shit to work, he’s a doctor AND SO SENSIBLE

So the patients that were crying that their cancer really hurts

Were prob’ly thrilled to see their doctor AND HIS FUCKIN’ DIRTY SHIRTS

I should mention we’ve no laundry bag, so don’t misunderstand, NO

He had his shirts all free and loose: DRY CLEANING COMMANDO

But of course he came up with a plan, never once forgetting

That he wasn’t going home that night, but flying to a wedding

He’d hop right in a cab, we had a flight and we would catch it

He’d meet me with his dry cleaning and like a WIFE I’d fetch it

I drop it with my doorman who’s all, “Someone come and getting it??”

I yell back, “YEP,” jump in the cab, already regretting it

I say, “Let’s call the cleaners, not leave shirts there in obscurity”

And he’s like, “NO! WE HAVE TO WAIT ‘TIL WE GET THROUGH SECURITY”

I sigh, “OK” and didn’t say, “THAT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE”

Cuz all these years have taught me YOU CAN’T REASON WITH THE MENSE

Now the best thing you can do is get a menstrual one some grub

Like the baller that I am I got us in the DELTA CLUB

At this point PMS was really getting kinda scary

So I go straight to the bar and get my man a bloody mary

When your man has PMS and he starts to get real colicky

Get him something spicy, pickled, and REAL alcoholicky

I snuck away to call the cleaners and I left my guy alone

(With 3 packets of Nutella and some HUMMUS IN A CONE)

So I go look up the number thinking Google’d be of help

But I couldn’t find Hong’s Cleaners there, NOT EVEN ON YELP

Nervously I searched and searched and then to my surpriser

HONG TEAM CLEANERS! THANK YOU SO MUCH, TRIP ADVISOR!

The guy answers the phone and I can’t understand a word

English isn’t his first language IT’S HIS MOTHA FUCKIN’ THIRD

I say my last name and address maybe six or seven times

I’d repeat what he yelled back but THERE AIN’T NO WAY THAT IT RHYMES

We go back and forth for minutes and now both of us are yelling

Who’d be picking up our clothes? There really was no way of telling

The chances it’d be Hong you’d think are looking rather slim, huh?

But otherwise he would have brought his LAUNDRY TO A SIMCHA

I look back at my guy who was three bloody marys deep

We stepped aboard the plane and went to MOTHAFUCKIN’ SLEEP

We had a lovely weekend, danced and drank the wine of Bacchus

We celebrated Ben and Aryn, OMG you guys, SUCH NACHES

We got back home that Sunday, took the bus from LGA

And we walked home from the bus stop and passed Hong along the way

They are always closed on Sundays, but my eye did catch their awning

And my jaw dropped to the ground (but I pretended I was yawning)

Their phone number was on it, though the digits were quite small

I knew that wasn’t who I called–UM LIKE NOT EVEN AT ALL

The shirts weren’t at my building, so who had them was a mystery

But I would crack this case, THANK YOU IPHONE CALLER HISTORY

I snuck on my computer and I got the fuckin’ hookup

Hong “TEAM” Cleaners, THANK YOU REVERSE FUCKIN’ LOOKUP

Now as far as my guy knew, there were no problems all along

And I’ll never ever tell him that I got the WRONG HONG

Within two fucking blocks how many Hongs could there be?

Well bitch, I learned the hard way that the answer here is THREE

I tracked the cleaning down and the next day went and got it

I took the plastic off and swiftly placed it in the closet

And he never had to know about this tiny little hiccup

And I went back to his Hong and signed his ass up for FREE PICK-UP

He got dressed today and said, “This starch is weird”, OH?? IS IT?!

I just told him to back off because AUNT FLO IS HERE TO VISIT.

word.

Party Foul, Bitch.

Ho Ho Ho, bitch! ‘Tis the fuckin’ season

To throw a fuckin’ party for just any rhyme or reason

Time to take a vacay (or pretend and wear some bronzer)

And light all of the lights for Jesus, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaar

But before you head out and party with your friends or firms

I feel I need to teach you to spread CHEER and not your GERMS

I’ve rapped to you before ’bout how to keep from getting sick

But there’s one germy threat happ’nin’ at parties IN PARTIC

Now I’m not a fan of parties, though I know most of you are

I’d rather eat Chinese and watch The View on DVR

But I always end up going cuz I’m not a fuckin’ flake

I go to spread the joy, but bitch, I mostly go for CAKE

Actually I prob’ly should be slightly more specific

I could do without the cake itself, but FROSTING IS TERRIFIC

Open bars are nice, but bitch, ain’t nothing more enticing

Than a fuckin’ slice of cake with a WHOLE SHIT-TON OF ICING

And my husband won’t eat frosting! NOPE! The cake part’s all he eats

That’s why we got married, bitch, ECONOMY OF TREATS

He know’s all he’s got do if he wants to get some nookie

Is to let me make a bitch out of a BLACK & WHITE COOKIE (only the white side, duh)

And so I’m here to tell you all something that really makes me scowl

My number one all time biggest fuckin’ party foul

It’s an issue that dates back to when I was a lil’ child

When the coolest girl in school had this birthday that was wild

At that roller skating rink with the disco lights for Thriller

The coolest kids in school were there, the GOODIE BAGS WERE KILLER

And then her mom brought out the cake–it was white with chocolate drizzle

There was tons of fuckin’ frosting, bitch, this cake was off the HIZZLE

And her mom cut her the first piece, which of course I thought was fine

Do I really need to tell you who was fucking next in line?

And then the most horrific thing I had seen in my young life

Her mothafuckin’ mom LICKED the MOTHAFUCKIN’ KNIFE!

She put the knife back in the cake and my eyes were wide with horror

She cut me off a piece and my jaw dropped on the FLOORER

I watched her do it ever time, licking all that fucking frosting

And I simply couldn’t eat the cake, THAT SHIT WAS DISGOSTING

Which brings us to last week when I was faced with this aGAIN

Now I’m all adult and shit, toasting my champagne

When all of the sudden I got real enthusiastic

When they brought out a cake that looked FUCKING FANTASTIC

This cake looked so amazing, it looked like an utter dream

With tons of salted caramel fuckin’ buttercream

The bartender began to cut amidst my great emotion

And all of the sudden things just went into slow motion

He wiped the knife off on his hand and of course my gaze did linger

As he slowly sucked the frosting off of EVERY FUCKING FINGER

It was like a fucking crime, I shoulda called the dang police

As he went and stuck those hands in every motherfuckin’ piece

Pensively I took my slice, and perhaps it was the booze

But I knew cake was something that was just too good to lose

And that shit was so damn good, you guys, I swear I’d give fellatio

To the baker who decided on that frosting to cake ratio

And I’m glad I stretched my bounds a bit, this Hanukkah I grew

But this entire fuckin’ week I’ve had the mothafuckin’ flu

So simply to avoid this very tragic party foul

I urge you to use protection, wipe your knife off on a towel

And that girl whose mom was gross, well, she turned out kinda groovy

You can all see her this Christmas starring in that Les Miz movie

(Totally kidding, it wasn’t Anne Hathaway. But it would be crazy if it was, right?)

word.

Harvest, Bitch.

There’s a chill in the air and it’s feelin’ pretty nice

And when you go into a Starbucks yous be gettin’ pumpkin spice

So break out that padded vest, put away them seersuckers

It’s my favorite time of year, IT’S THE HARVEST MOTHAFUCKAS

Time to go jump in the leaves and time to follow me on twitter

Time to pick some apples and then eat a frickin’ fritter

And boys, it’s time you find a bitch to take under your covers

Cuz I’m telling you, you heard it here, THE HARVEST IS FOR LOVERS

And to get yourself a lady you need tips, well boys, I got ’em

If you follow my instructions you will get some tail this autumn

The secret to make sure that you will get some harvest lovin’

It be right under your nose, right in your MOTHAFUCKIN’ OVEN

You don’t need no sexy music, you don’t need no water bed

All you need to know is how to make a PUMPKIN BREAD

Now if baking freaks you out and you normally eschew it

Don’t worry, mothafucka, I’MMA TEACH YOU HOW TO DO IT

First you take a cup a sugar, cream it with a stick of butter

Give your bitch a little wink and then her heart will go aflutter

Add a teaspoon of vanilla and two eggs and stir it well

(Maybe crack the eggs beforehand YOU DON’T WANT NO BITS OF SHELL)

In a different bowl add flour, like a whole cup and a half

(And verify your bitch is clean of STDs or STAPH)

Add a half teaspoon of salt and one teaspoon baking soda

And to get her in the mood just turn on Kathy Lee and Hoda

Mix all that shit together and then soon she’ll know what’s up

When to that you add some pumpkin ONE ENTIRE FUCKIN’ CUP

Now for my big secret that’ll really make her scream

To that you add a half a cup of fuckin’ SOUR CREAM

SOUR CREAM? You may ask? BITCH YOU CRAZY, MAKE NO SENSE!

But you betta believe–it makes that loaf so MOIST AND DENSE

Sour cream and pumpkin is a combo that’s climactic

It’s creamy and it’s tangy from the acid that’s all LACTIC

Now she’ll really want you but you gots to tell her “IN A MIN”

Cuz you gots to add a teaspoon of some fuckin’ cinnamon

And you make you lady wait, even though by now she’s beggin’

You need a half a teaspoon–you be gettin NUTEGGIN

And one last thing to make sure you be gettin in her hips

Stir in some fuckin’ semi-sweet CHOCOLATE FUCKIN CHIPS

Pour it in a loaf pan that you’ve parchmented or greased

Bake at 350 for an hour, brotha, YOURE A FUCKIN’ BEAST

Then go and get your freak on and a pumpkiny aroma

Will wake you up like Folgers from your fall post-coital coma

And I promise you there’s no way that that chick was even faking

Though I cannot guarantee she didn’t use you for your your baking

And if you think baking’s girly work, best for a maid or elf

I’ve got a BINDER FULL OF WOMEN telling you to fuck yourself

So go and get your bake on, don’t you think of hesitating

(This works especially well if she is fat or menstruating)

And when all is said and done you can go cuddle up beside her

And instead of cigarettes cool off with pumpkin bread and cider

word.

(recipe adapted from http://www.food.com/recipe/sour-cream-pumpkin-bread-157475)

High School, Bitch.

I know you’ll be real shocked, based on just how cool I am

That in high school being popular, wasn’t quite my jam

I never smoked cigarettes, I was scared of emphysema

I didn’t drink till college when I passed out from one ZIMA

I wore Doc Martens and huge glasses cuz I couldn’t see real far

The Stephen Schwartz pic in my locker didn’t make me populer–lar

If two popular kids were talkin’ bout a wild party

I’d ask, “Lippa or LaChiusa?” and they’d think I was retardy

I didn’t re’lize to be cool it would really help to flaunt your

Assets other than your Jewish hair and your orthodonture

So I knew my only chance to be even slightly cool

Would come my sophomore of high school on our CHOIR TRIP FOOL

The only glimmer of hope throughout my dark awkward phase

Was in our choir trip to Disney WHAT UP MAGIC MUSIC DAYS

I wasn’t good at being slutty, I could never go commando

But I knew that I could make some friends when we were in Orlando

There I’d finally be free from the cruel high school brutality

And score some friends at Disney with my WINNING PERSONALITY

We’d be free to be ourselves, I thought, without drugs or booze

And I’d make friends in choir with my fellow ALTO TWOS

On our first day in Orlando, we thought we would embark

On a choir, band, and orchestra trip to a water park

A water park in Disney? My public school just wouldn’t hear it

So our rickety old bus drove to a water park NEAR IT

There were only two slides, because this place was fuckin’ janky

The water was cold and a LITTLE BIT STANKY

I thought this could be my chance to show them I was fun and clever

And we’d be BFFFFs (BEST FUCKIN’ FRIENDS FOR FUCKIN’ EVER)

So all the other kids rushed to the family raft ride

No one dared go near The Bomb, a frightening vertical slide

Then I thought to myself, I was done with high school slavery

Maybe I could win some friends with some chutzpah (Jewish bravery)

This was so outside my comfort zone, that water was contagious

But I decided it was time for me to do something courageous

So I boldly broke away and walked straight toward The Bomb

They all saw me and saluted like I was on my way to Nam

The entire group was watching me, standing at attention

As I grasped the rusty railing and I started my ascension

My heart was pounding quickly at the top of the ladder

I could feel it in my chest, and a little in my bladder

Every eye was on me, just to see me do my duty

They started chanting my name! Like I was mother fuckin’ RUDY

I lay down and crossed my arms and I laid back my head

And I said the HaMotzi, BITCH, THE JEWISH PRAYER FOR BREAD

And then I was on my way, it was rather histrionic

My life flashed before my eyes and I received my first colonic

And I finally got down to the pool at the bottom

I envisioned my new friends and the crazy way I got ’em

I proudly stood up, overcome with such emotion

And the rest of the world started moving in slow motion

It was like a lucid dream, or whatever that thing’s called

Where there’s 80’s music and I’m  MOLLY FUCKIN’ RINGWALD

I threw my arms up in the air, I was filled with such elation

I turned to the crowd to receive my celebration

High school would be better now, with friends, and boys and kissing

But I stood there in the water and knew there was something missing

A heavy silence filled the air, you could have heard a pin drop

Soon I realized what was missing, bitch, MY MOTHAFUCKIN TOP

It was floating in the wading pool, right there in the middle

I sank down under water and I maybe peed a little

No thread of popularity ever did transpire

And now all of my bikinis, I make sure, have underwire

They missed out on a great kid, so they’re all a buncha suckers

And they sure missed out cuz now my tits are huge, mothafuckas

word.

Bagels, Bitch.

YO every Sunday morning all we Jews go on a mission

Like Tevye told Lazar Wolf, “THIS SHIT IS OUR TRADITION”

You jump right out of bed (where you are practicing your kagels)

And you get your ass in line to get some MOTHA FUCKIN’ BAGELS

I don’t want no fancy shit, NO THANKS, BAREFOOT CONTESSA

I used to go to H&H but now I go to ESS-A

And fellas, if you want a bitch, before you go and pork her

Take her out for bagels, see if she’s a true New Yorker

You don’t need no background check, no need to check her references

All you need to know is in her FUCKIN’ BAGEL PREFERENCES

Yo don’t want a bitch who goes and orders a dozen

They’ll be bad in 3 hours, eat them HOT NOW, COUSIN

She’ll tell you she’ll just freeze ’em when she gives her big-ass order

Back the fuck away, you’ve found a FUCKIN’ BAGEL HOARDER

If she likes a lot of seeds, I’m talkin’ sesame or poppy

And gets ’em all up in her teeth, then you can bet that bitch is sloppy

You know she’ll be a downer with some deep, depressing ballad

If she orders MOTHAFUCKIN’ WHITEFISH MOTHAFUCKIN’ SALAD

Girls are fun and quirky if they order pumpernickel

She’ll be easy if she gets herself a BIG FULL SOUR PICKLE

Beware of cinnamon raisin, if you know what I mean

They may be real hot but they’re like, SO under eighteen

She’s real Jewey if she asks them, “Can you scoop it out please??”

Yeah, bitch, you’ll get real skinny once you fill that shit with CHEESE

If you wanna bag a shiksa, then you know that you’ll be safe

If she gets bacon on that bagel–LEMME HEAR YA SAY TRAIF

And a bitch who gets a flagel will be sure to take good care of ya

She maximizes overall POTENTIAL SCHMEARING AREA

A bitch who really knows the perfect schmear-to-bagel ratio

In my informal study, tends to give the best fellatio

She knows to spread it evenly, across the whole diameter

She even knows to rap it out in I-AM-BIC PENTAMETER (or really more heptameter…if she’s really awesome)

I can always tell a guy who had a bagel bitch come ova

To me, the smell of love is wholewheat everything and NOVA

And for some extra credit, after you go make your nookie

Forget the cigarette and have a BLACK AND WHITE COOKIE

So why are you still home? Go get some bitches up in here

Get your ass some bagels with some MOTHAFUCKIN SCHMEAR

word.