I really liked ‘er ass, an that’s kinda whud-da met her for,
Had a smile-y on my face that was bigger than a’ albacore.
Approached with a swagger, not an amateur to prose
Had to shoot for the moon, when the chance arose.
She didn’t look for attention, yet I stood like a soldier
Intentions no longer concealed, abort covert
And when I caught her eye, like a sniper to his scope
She knew inevitably her will would be smote
The game I spit was was potent– a cobras venom to mice
And what escaped from my mouth, with a python-esque vice
A surreptitiously sweet,
soothing serenade set
to steal her soul
Against her behest
With the conviction of a back, I attacked her path
I Ochocinco’d this and Deion Sanders’d that
Touching down the field became my next goal
The ultimate prize–reaching the Sugar Bowl
She asks aloud in a heated moment how I’d convinced her to stay
I smirk and reply, “All these game be for play.”