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coda conduct - click clack (front n back) lyrics

[verse 1]
met him as a waiter at a restaurant
hips swaying to a disco folk beat
i was like “hooh! can i get some sesame seeds
on the top of these fresh baked buns please?”
now we headed off into the sunset
just me and sweet cheeks in the front seat
here’s a love letter to the boys that know
how to get their b-tts free
(put your seat belt on)

thick at the top and all tight at the bottom
and if you’re combing it you’re fine
but i don’t mind if you’re not
and when he wanna drop it down
i promptly buy him an ottoman
in the meantime better get that behind [poppin’]
you got mah fever hot and i’m burnin’ up
[did somebody pop it up but don’t stop
is that was working their perky b-tts]
so enamored with the shake and perfect [girth of your] curvature
[when my turn to get a permit]
to confirm that it’s firm enough

[chorus]
boys get your booty low
i wanna see all of the boys
get their booty low
and ladies i don’t care
if you move your load too
but i think it’s only fair
that the boys get a go to get their booty low
boys get your booty low
i wanna see all of the boys
get their booty low
and ladies i don’t care
if you move your load too
but i think it’s only fair
that the boys get a go to get their booty low

[verse 2]
met him on the jetty down at the seashore
b-tt b-mping all around in them speedos
i was like “hi!” he was like “hi”
i was like “what you mean like ‘hi’ or ‘high’ like high like my libido?”
now we’re riding on a tandem bike
just get me something strong i can stand behind
then i got him on a string, so his hams are mine
(put your seat belt on)
don’t mind me i just wanna sight see
eyes are on them tight cheeks
kinda like a ripe peach
and a heinie, roxanne, rasiel, jock strap (?)
if he’s moving in then i’m
giving him his bonds back
call me the landlord
tyrant of the dance floor
whatcha got a b-tton holding up your pants for?
coz it keeps my thoughts in your chinos or
on your jeans or cords or ya b-ball shorts

[verse 3]
talkin ’bout the kind of guy with the wit to trump me
and a nice big lump sum up in them undies
serves up that lunch when i’m hungry
coz he knows that i love that rump meat
i see you dressed in a suit and your best pair of blue suede shoes
got your groove on like fred astaire
that you’d be be better if you loosen your derriere
(put your seatbelt on)
men kid themselves thinking that i’m letting them hit on me
coz i need to go to bed to get ahead in the industry
i would glad pretend i’m wrapped around their fingers smile and wink
and let him get up to buy a drink and admire the symmetry
the guys and women that wreckin’ biceps don’t stand a chance
forget about the thighs and abs
say “whatcha want?” “badonkadonk!”
“whatcha want?” “badonkadonk!”

[outro slowmo]
“whatcha want?” “badonkadonk!”
“whatcha want?” “badonkadonk!”
“whatcha want?” “badonkadonk!”
“whatcha want?”

- coda conduct lyrics

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