Oh Bo – Bo Burnham – Jumping On The Hip Hop Bandwagon

music and lyrics by me

hittin a club up, VIP
a got a fake moustache and fake ID
i look like wooly willy with a really wooly willy and i
bypass the bouncer, pass by an ex and i flex and bounce her, wowzers
look at all of bo’s hoes, looking for a ride on bo’s hose and i
spot a little latina, booty so big call it oprah’s ego,
we go do it, through it she says “dios mio mi amigo!”
pull it out, stick it in your mouth, and i bust in the back of ya,
swallow bitch! there’s people starving in africa.

single every single day, do it every single way
make the single ladies say, oh bo.
and if i were gay, though i swear i’m straight
i’d make the fellas say, oh bo.

you’re an ice cream sundae with a cherry on top,
but careful, cherry, cause i’m the king of pop, pop, pop
pop goes my weasel, now you look like Jackson Pollock’s easel.
my suggestion is, you don’t blow til you know what congestion is,
swallow when you know what digestion is,
follow bo, the only question is –
have you been splattered before by the mad hatter matador?
cake batter, nevermore, it don’t matter whether you’re
spanish, french, swedish or cambodian
i’ll slime you so hard you could be on nickelodeon.


you think that you can handle me, girl don’t make me laugh
my junk is bipolar, it’ll split you in half.
and if you’re lucky, i might just bring you home,
and i’ll have you going down like you’re growing an extra chromosome.
and when you love me, don’t grab me by my buns,
cause i got a bad case of the runs. i got the runs. i got the runs.


i’d like to break it down for y’all. i came from the streets with nothing, now i’m making hit records. for all my people still livin in the streets, still livin in poverty – i want to tell you, i’m doin this for you. my success is your success. and i know you may be thinking “hey, if you really believe that, why don’t you use some of your money to help rebuild the neighborhood instead of putting spinning rims on a gold jetski…and to that i say…uh, chorus is coming up.

you got a fume like a tuna. i’ll smell you later.
i met a fat chick and i fucked her in an elevator.
it was wrong on so many levels…

single every single, do it every single
pop that single like a pringle jingle, oh bo
the song’s almost completed all this little ditty needed,
instrument that’s double reeded, the oboe.

oh bo play that oboe.