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letra de my three wives (shakyla pt. iii) - poor righteous teachers

[verse 1: wise intelligent]
i met the strangest chick, imported from bangladesh
so what’s your angle miss?
weak wicked and dangerous?
she spoke the languages, english and arabic
told me very quick, she won’t be sucking any d-ck
say wise intelligent, you’re unlike most other men
a lot of brothers been filling me up with compliments
so where your body’s been
that’s all we need to know love
can turn this raven to a dove
or are you just gon’ try to rise above
her kiss bionic, stimulating like a roots tonic
let’s be platonic sister i ain’t even hearing it
you got me fearing that love’s among the actual facts
i gots to come correct, all wise right and exact
i want you mentally and physically reflecting me
you wants my agony penetrating s-xually
you won’t commit but you persist with this s-x sh-t
i won’t submit cause i’m allah and god is dominant
the s-x is good but i don’t need another lover sis
i’m on this trip in pursuit of miss intelligent
not my type but i felt like i could change a bit
strange, i had this thing for miss bangladesh
was it the way she used to feed me fruit and rock me well?
her wet body and punani drip the sweetest smell
ain’t hard to tell she was the bomb like nas and akinyele
skin black, poom fat, s-xy as h-ll

[chorus: miss jones]
i can’t hate you, though i have tried
ahhhh, ahhh, ahhh
i still really really love you
love is stronger than rhymes

[verse 2: wise intelligent]
africa, ain’t quite over her
scoping her, my style with ethiopia
direct descendant from the queen of sheba, makeba
and king solomon, fela’sha in origin
the sweetest lips that my tongue ever taste
cute face the softest thing my arms ever embraced
displaced for centuries form the rest of her race
erased from history, see we had that much in common
we used to kick it on the dock by the red sea
or on the nile in a boat made of papyrus leaves
she told the tales of the perfect love and i was it
i tell the tales of how i fell for miss bangladesh
pure finesse, the moon reflected silhouette
as i caress the nipples of her naked breast
chest to chest, one, flesh of my flesh
bone of my bone africa had it going on
she spoke “shalom”, peace in hebrew style
her voice melodic and exotic like the virgin isles
no madagascar, or how i was tempted to ask her
to be my wife but my conscience wouldn’t let me trap her
i felt like i was being selfish to perceiver the thought
and having sharks crowning me the thief of hearts
this sister had the kind of beauty wise intelligent
thinks every brother on the planet should experience

[chorus: miss jones]
i can’t hate you baby, though i have tried
ahhhh, ahhh, ahhh
i still really really love you
love is stronger than rhymes

[verse 3: wise intelligent]
like scott lark to reminisce, it’s a natural bliss
but yo, i fully miss her, sort of like this other sister
me and her walked the sands of india
me and india, took showers and plenty of
baths together, made love in the rainy weather
yet even better, i shared many -rg-sms with her
she took me home, disconnected the phone
played the jazz of billie holiday and nina simone
she said a man is not a man if he’s no worker man
some old patra sh-t, but i admit i was loving it
she said i did it for the love of the sh-t
so get it up hold it down like a son of b-tch boy
it brings me joy making me make noise
but don’t you know my roommate’s trying to sleep next door
i said sure, let’s swing up out of this piece
we swung the next episode, back seat of my jeep
peep how we did creep, iller s-x no sleep
she blamed it on me because she ain’t no freak
sing “joy to the world, the lord is come, let earth receive her king”
but how you mean, crack a tin relax and i’ll explain
she called me names of ancient kings i called her queen
i was her first, she called me god i called her earth
we just conversed on the first full moon of may
and miss bombay india still ain’t over me

[chorus: miss jones]
i can’t hate you baby, though i have tried (i’ve tried baby)
ahhhh, ahhh, ahhh
i still really really love you
love is stronger than rhymes

- poor righteous teachers

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