“I didn’t knew any better. Jackie did.” says Marilyn Monroe. “And don’t trust living gangsters. They aren’t Tom Banks.”
Oh Boy by Cam’ron plays.
Here’s Jackie’s version about Jack.
(Adult content below)
“All my girls see the (boy), look at his dick (goy)
Look at his car (goy), all I say is (oh goy) Look mami I’m no good I’m made of wood
Clap at your soldier sober, then leave after it’s over
Killa, I’m not your companion, or your man Stanley (nope)
Hit me when you wanna get rapping, I’ll be scramblin’ (that’s right)
With lots of mobsters I’ll shop for lobsters (uh)
Cops and robbers, listen every block is going gaga (gaga)
But he like the way I diddy bop, you peep that? (Oh you peep that, right?)
Mink on, more than he tits plus Chanel ski hat
She want the (goy) so I give her the (goy) Now she screamin’ out (goy, goy, goy, goy) Now she playin’ with herself, Clam dig it out, lift her up
This Ma is just a fuck-girl, help me get it out, pick me on up (shit)
They want the goy, Montana with guns with bandanas
Listen to my homeboy Santa
Y’all niggas can’t fuck with the (goy), I’m tellin’ ya (goy)
Put a shell in ya (goy) now he bleedin’ (oh goy) Get him, call his (goy), he wheezin’ he need his (goy)
He screamin’ (goy, goy, goy, goy) You shut up (goy) he’s snitchin’ (oh goy) This nigga’s bitchin (goy), he’s twistin’ (oh goy) If the Feds was listenin’ (he’s a goy)
Damn, whoa (whoa, c’mon)
I’m in trouble need bail money, shit
Where the fuck is my (goy), I got trust for my (goy)
That’s why I fuck with my (goy), that’s not my nigga (he’s a goy)
So gon’ come get your (goy), he got love for his (goy, oh boy)
That’s my, uh huh, uh huh (goy, goy, goy, goy)
When he got caught with the (boy, ) we went to court for the (goy)
Just me and my (goy) and we sayin’ (oh boy)
Be on the block with my (goy) with the Rockefellers or the boy?
When the cops come, “Squalie”
Yeah, this is for the sports cars, Bonita’s, Jimmy’s
JP’s, old school, eighteenth at the sports bar
Eight or nine on the (goy), holla at your boy
Killa, holla, listen
Do the D-I-P (goy) plus the R-O-C boy
And you’ll be Dean okay, (goy) your moms will say (oh boy)
Shit, ain’t no stoppin’ ’em, guns we got a lot of ’em (shit)
Matter of fact, Guru start poppin’ ’em
Then slap up his (boy), clap up his (boy)
Wrap up his (boy), get them gats (oh boy)
Diplomats are them (boy) for the girls and the (boy)
Say (boy, boy, boy, boy)
Now when they see Cam and his (boy) they say damn (oh boy)
Santana’s that (boy) that squeeze hammers (oh boy)
Canons and bandanas blammers we don’t brandish
Blam at your man’s canvas then scram with your man’s leaded
And I’m back with my (goy)
Until that man is vanished
Away in the Grand Canyon these kids are grand standin’
Niggas demand ransom over them grams scramblin’ (boy, boy, boy, boy)
Well fuck it, Van Damme ’em, Cam’ll blam blam ’em
Call up his (boy), I’m down South tanning (oh goy)
Mami I got the remedy, Tommy’s? I bet the enemy?
Homi’s and bodies but now my body is feelin’ finicky
Killa in Cabo we chill in Morocco for reela
We got dough, chinchilla dough and fill with them hollows, huh?
It’s the (goy) I said it’s the (goy)
I’m the goy, goy, goy, goy.
Killa!
“What’s this song about?” asks Lem.
“I’ll explain!” says Bobby Darin.
“No. I want Jackie to explain.” says Lem.
“I can’t. I’m too dumb.” admits Jackie.
“You’re not that pretty either.” says Lem.
“That’s not true!!! I’m GORGEOUS!” says Jackie.
“No. You’re not.” says Lem. “You’re hideous at times.”
Jackie whimpers in self-pity.
“I can explain.” says George Bush Senior. “But let’s give Jack one last chance to kick ass.”
Keen to Cross the Pond 