O God!
My dearest Rebecca,
Gaze upon her posterior
It would appear she is intimate with one of those hoodlum poets
The behemothic proportions of it!
but, alas, who could hope to understand such a mind as a poets?
Would they waste a breath
if she wasn’t seen as though a lady of the night?
Ah, her derrière!
Its circumference, vast
Reaching up to the heaven’s above
The thought, repulsing
But I must look
The shade, ebony
Original Text
Oh, my, God Becky, look at her butt
Its just so big, she looks like
One of those rap guys’ girlfriends.
But, ya know, who understands those rap guys?
They only talk to her, because,
She looks like a total prostitute, ‘kay?
I mean, her butt, is just so big
I can’t believe it’s just so round, it’s like out there
I mean gross, look
She’s just so, black
From Baby Got Back by Sir Mix-a-Lot