Sonnet Snizzle XVIII
Shall I compare thy booty to a summer’s day, bitch?
Thy booty art so hot and stankin’, I sweat and itch.
Thugz run from taverns to scope so quizzically
Thy ripe, bouncin’ booty gliding by so physically.
Oh, compare, compare, you bard, you &mdash and see if you can work in something about my man-boobs, why don't cha'?
Thy booty art so hot and stankin’, I sweat and itch.
Thugz run from taverns to scope so quizzically
Thy ripe, bouncin’ booty gliding by so physically.
Oh, compare, compare, you bard, you &mdash and see if you can work in something about my man-boobs, why don't cha'?
posted by Biff Loman at 3:49 PM
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