Blak Puddin'

Shh! Boy, be quite. Follow me and tip-toe

Don't wanna make too much noise sneaking in your window

So pull down the shades

'Cause my neighbors are kind of nosy

Comfy, cosy, now off with the clothes-y

Can I get a witness

Betta fitness. Baby, we can do it

Take your time, do it right

Mmm, lick my belly button

Whisper sweet nothings in my ear

To get my hormones in gear

Now, mamma's little baby loves toast and jam

Melts in your mouth, but not in your hand

Black pudd'n

Seperates the boys from the men

You can knock all day Jehova, but you can't get in

Maybe you can get a scoop, if you're really all of that

And you can leave your fake fingernails in my back

Now, I may not be a lady

But I'm surely all woman

So check it, the proof is in the pudd'n

Can I get a lick? Can I get a lick?

What?

Can I get a lick? Can I get a lick?

What?

Can I get a lick? Can I get a lick, girl?

I wanna get a taste of your pudd'n

Must be Jell-O, 'cause pudd'n don't jiggle like that

Yeah ain't that a fact

Pull out your spoon

And let's begin the mixing

Always in the bedroom

Never in the kitchen

You can get busy

WIth your head beneath the blanket

Flip it, spank it, gettin' buck naked

'Cause women in the 90s want more from a brother

Than a part-time lover, who's wack undercover

So, brother, do your duty when it comes to the bedroom

Don't let him eat the pudd'n

If he ain't got the head room

So, dip, DIP, dive if you wanna be a diver

Sport a helmet with a light

Like an old gold miner

No need to taste test

The puddn's always fresh

So, brothers, wear a bib if you're gonna make a mess

Can I get my spoon in - No way

Now I eats more pudd'n

Than old folks play bingo

Parker Lewis can't lose in Santa Domingo

What about Atlanta? Than Santa

Saturday night, I'm liver than

Rose-ana-ana Dan-a. So, Holy Moly

(No Clue What He's Saying)

Proof is in the pudd'n, so come get a taste

I know that you love it from the smile on your face

Up and down like a slinky, let's get kinky

The cream in the middle of a Twinkie

'Cause I likes my men cot diesel

And if you're unleaded

Then Nigga, just forget it

You can't rub my back, or kiss my neck either

With you sniffy, sneezy, coughy

Achy, stuffy head fever

Undercover lover, in between the sheets

As the bed springs creak, while I rips up the beat

Brothers love the pudd'n like Lucy loves Ricky

Joanie loves Chachi, or Micky loves Minne

But I havte getting hickies on my neck in the summer

'Cause wearing a turtle neck is a bummer

I heats up the mike 'til your blood prssure rises

It ain't the kind of pudd'n Bill Cosby advertises

Pull out your spoon, and let us begin

But if you front on the pudd'd

You might not get your spoon in