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FLYIN’ D.N.A.

I got all excited, made a giant mess,
It was my misfortune, it landed on her dress.
Man I thought I was careful, and pointed far away,
But she caught a dressful of Flyin’ D.N.A,

She was so damn playful, such a little tease,
I used to laugh at the rug burn, on her chubby knees.
She tried her best to escape it, but couldn’t get away,
I bit my lip and fired, Flyin’ D.N.A.,

I thought it was our secret, but she let it slip,
Monica went blabbin’, right to Linda Tripp.
She taped it on her recorder, and she just pressed play,
And the world got an earful, of Flyin’ D.N.A.,

When the dress gets tested, by the F.B.I.,
My only option is to just deny.
But before you impeach me, here’s what’s in store,
Your new El’ Presedente’, will be that putz Al Gore.

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Related:  Politics (+3830)      

Here’s a tale from the oval office
Told without rancour or malice
About intern acts
And oral sex
On the presidential phallus.

Bill’s dick was out of its stable
With Monica willing and able
To meet and greet
That piece of meat
Beneath a White House table.

Matters of state were delayed
As he wanted a little quick head
But after one slick lick
On the end of his dick
He came on her blue dress instead.

Said Monica “This is really a pain
For you’ve gone and left a big stain
But no way will I wash it
I’ll keep it and stash it
For someday I may need it again.”

Said Bill “I hope that no-one has seen us
With you going down on my penis
For no one must know
That you gave me a blow
So we’ll keep this thing strictly between us.”

But after making so messy a slip
Between Bill’s dick and her lip
Monica felt a need to confess
About the stain on her dress
To the loathsome Linda Tripp.

To her cost poor Monica found
That Linda was wired up for sound
She had her tape running
For the tale of Bill’s cuming
And that’s how the word got around.

Then Tripp told that fellow Ken Starr
Who wanted Bill’s Balls in a jar
And he created a dinsky
That made Miss Lewinsky
Hand that dress into the bar.

This guy Starr will not rest
And the Feds are doing their best
To see if that spot
Is Bill’s cum or not
By running a DNA test.

Poor Bill feels a bit of a twit
About all that Lewinsky bit
For by being immoral
And indulging in oral
He’s landed himself in the shit.

You’ll remember Bill’s pot-smoking tale
And this time he’ll surely not fail
To say ejaculations
Aren’t sexual relations
Because Monica didn’t inhale.

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Related:  Holidays (+1419)      

- The Bride of Frankenstein had big, pointy hair and a small, round ass not the other way around.

- ‘Cause you should know that wearing a white sheet in Atlanta could only lead to getting your ass whupped, Homeboy.

- Your “Naked Linda Tripp” costume is actually more nauseating than scary.

- Your “Yanni” costume got you beat up on the way to the party, four times.

- Your Dirk Diggler costume is merely embarrassing now that your “Diggler” is stuck in the car door.

- Your beret falls off every time you kneel.

- Yellow Homer Simpson makeup? Check. Can of Homer Simpson “Duff Beer?” Check. Homer Simpson pants? DOH!!!!

- No one can tell whether you came as Abe Vigoda or Marge Schott.

- This year’s guest judge, Elizabeth Dole, has apparently never even *heard* of Marilyn Manson.

- Much to your surprise, three other people came dressed as Nikola Tesla, father of alternating current.

- The judges wrongly interpreted your “Liposuction By-product” costume as a “Bowl of Tapioca Pudding” costume.

- The only song you knew to go with the costume was “Mammy,” and the judges at the NAACP party were not impressed.

- *Nobody* likes a farting clown.

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Related:  Politics (+3830)      

Did you hear Clinton’s new defense strategy?
He’s going to hit on Linda Tripp and then plead insanity.

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Related:  Politics (+3830)      

FLYIN’ D.N.A.

I got all excited, made a giant mess,
It was my misfortune, it landed on her dress.
Man I thought I was careful, and pointed far away,
But she caught a dressful of Flyin’ D.N.A,

She was so damn playful, such a little tease,
I used to laugh at the rug burn, on her chubby knees.
She tried her best to escape it, but couldn’t get away,
I bit my lip and fired, Flyin’ D.N.A.,

I thought it was our secret, but she let it slip,
Monica went blabbin’, right to Linda Tripp.
She taped it on her recorder, and she just pressed play,
And the world got an earful, of Flyin’ D.N.A.,

When the dress gets tested, by the F.B.I.,
My only option is to just deny.
But before you impeach me, here’s what’s in store,
Your new El’ Presedente’, will be that putz Al Gore.

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