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Lyrics
No need to fake that orgasm... I'm talking bout nine innings of kickball pussy, kickball pussy. I'm eatin' nine innings of kickball pussy, kickball pussy. It started one day on the side of the road. Raining with a kickball and a pent-up load. You were wearing them Pumas and a Brooklyn smile, playing that kickball, and I liked your style, running them bases like a hot lil' birdie, Not too afraid to get a little dirty. Simply mashugana, an understatement. Don't scrap your knees on the cold bare pavement. I kicked that ball down the third base line. You ran right and just in time, sticky and sweet in the middle of the day. And you got me out with a fucking double play. Might’ve been a little grimy underneath the clothing. Couldn’t stop desire that was definitely growing. Back to the flat to get a little groovy. Groovy to the groovy to a triple-x movie. Looked down south and my cobra had gone loose. Looking for your little rikki tikki tavi mongoose. Make our way to the undercover, hot as hell and sweating like a mother. I placed my tongue on your labia menorah. Up and down, licking your clitorah. Grease and grime and a little bit of flavor. Eating sweet pussy of a kickball player. There’s a time when we sit and wonder, “maybe I should not?” Fuck that shit, you gotta go for it, and hope that shit will never clot. Some may say, I'm a pussy snob, but when you tilt your hips you force a rim job. A nice surprise, a clever move back and forth, on down you groove and before I make you score that goal, you change it up with your sweaty little asshole. I don’t appreciate my nose deep in your butt-cheeks. I’m no poop-eatin, shit-chowin, crap-licking, scat-freak, but I’ll try anything that you want me to do. And hope that I do not eat poo poo. Kickball like that, you do deserve it. Lickin on down, taste so perverted.
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