(Cap D)
Calypso, you's a nasty ho
you know you got crabs
so many comin' at me nethers
That I can't even stab
too much lovin' them lads
who's not wearin bags
You know a 50 foot mast
could stick in yer vaj
populations of Crustaceans
from relations with them nations
whole generations banged
without discrimination
plantations in yer basement
a jungle of fungal
makin a wig replacements
rollin p***s up in bundles
what else is hidden
or what's been given
by the sea of sailors
whose boats you've ridden
ain't kidden
I'm admitten
that I'm scared
of what yer dishen
you give it up so easy
might just be a tradition
my suspicions we correct
admission of objects
whose size can be from pinheads
to entire ship wrecks
now keep them crabs in check
or else I'll stab yer neck
Ye give a whole new meaning
to hittin the deck!
(Chorus)
Calypso's got crabs!!!
Yar Yar Yar Yar
(Scott Free)
This ho, Calypso
Is nothing but sick yo,
The b**** is so greasy
She looks covered in Crisco
I even heard she's got
one hell of a cyst bro,
They say she's seductive
But I can resist though
I can't stand her sight
Cause she's covered in parasites
and you know if ye share a night
then surely you'll share her plight
A colony of crabs livin next to her vaj
If ye ran through that, yer deservin a badge
we makes men compulsive even though she's so repulsive
one whiff of that puss will turn you convulsive
but it doesn't matter if you puke she's not after your loot
she's just looking for some fun knocking some boots
it may sound fictious but she's not like average b******
know to be so vicious to get chasing men to get them out they britches
its what her niche is, the s***** is malicious smells of them fishes
don't be falling for her pitches or give into her wishes
(Sea Dawg)
whether crabs or fleas,
because you please with ease
you've become a museum of stds
Touch you? I'd rather fall off a cliff
I know sailors who are dead from just takin' a whiff
I wanna capture a fort
sneak you in at night
you're there for 3 days, their men are too weak to fight
take the treasure and leave, ye be the ace up me sleeve
Show those doctors somethin' that they can't believe
its said that the pen can kill more than the sword
well the pens got nothin on you ya w****
on the bed or the floor, against the mast or the door
you do what ya do, and he cant do anymore
you're life on the outside, but death to the core
the stuff of campfire legend and lore
ye got rapport up and down the shore
yer the first official weapon of biological war
Calypso, you's a nasty ho
you know you got crabs
so many comin' at me nethers
That I can't even stab
too much lovin' them lads
who's not wearin bags
You know a 50 foot mast
could stick in yer vaj
populations of Crustaceans
from relations with them nations
whole generations banged
without discrimination
plantations in yer basement
a jungle of fungal
makin a wig replacements
rollin p***s up in bundles
what else is hidden
or what's been given
by the sea of sailors
whose boats you've ridden
ain't kidden
I'm admitten
that I'm scared
of what yer dishen
you give it up so easy
might just be a tradition
my suspicions we correct
admission of objects
whose size can be from pinheads
to entire ship wrecks
now keep them crabs in check
or else I'll stab yer neck
Ye give a whole new meaning
to hittin the deck!
(Chorus)
Calypso's got crabs!!!
Yar Yar Yar Yar
(Scott Free)
This ho, Calypso
Is nothing but sick yo,
The b**** is so greasy
She looks covered in Crisco
I even heard she's got
one hell of a cyst bro,
They say she's seductive
But I can resist though
I can't stand her sight
Cause she's covered in parasites
and you know if ye share a night
then surely you'll share her plight
A colony of crabs livin next to her vaj
If ye ran through that, yer deservin a badge
we makes men compulsive even though she's so repulsive
one whiff of that puss will turn you convulsive
but it doesn't matter if you puke she's not after your loot
she's just looking for some fun knocking some boots
it may sound fictious but she's not like average b******
know to be so vicious to get chasing men to get them out they britches
its what her niche is, the s***** is malicious smells of them fishes
don't be falling for her pitches or give into her wishes
(Sea Dawg)
whether crabs or fleas,
because you please with ease
you've become a museum of stds
Touch you? I'd rather fall off a cliff
I know sailors who are dead from just takin' a whiff
I wanna capture a fort
sneak you in at night
you're there for 3 days, their men are too weak to fight
take the treasure and leave, ye be the ace up me sleeve
Show those doctors somethin' that they can't believe
its said that the pen can kill more than the sword
well the pens got nothin on you ya w****
on the bed or the floor, against the mast or the door
you do what ya do, and he cant do anymore
you're life on the outside, but death to the core
the stuff of campfire legend and lore
ye got rapport up and down the shore
yer the first official weapon of biological war