Lyrics Hot Sex - A Tribe Called Quest

Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter (What did you say your name is?)
Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter

Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter

Hey, yo, who wanna pull on Pfeiffer, long time no hear from
Suckers walkin′ 'round talking about they could get some
But that pop is non cypher, no can do
And if you think I′m a dope, then ask the other two
And I proceed to let you know, exactly how to flow
I'm not a Lawn Doctor so just a sucker with a hoe
Oops, my mistake I didn't know you went with her

Should I run down the line of the all the kids that done hit her
Don′t be bitter, I hear that honey resembles a critter
I heard she likes two on one like my man John Ritter
But back to the subject you can′t catch rec
You must get respect, to earn respect
Suckers think they could hurt me 'cause know I wear specks
You′re full of jokes, well, yo, your name ain't flex
I got the riches, the bitches, I′m large like a Huxtable

You think you're all that but you′re girl's quite doable
Yeah, I'm tellin′ you G, to back up off me
I′m not a mad cohort, but I'm not Mr. Softee
Rappin′ is an art, coming straight from the heart
So forget the chart because the action can start

Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter

Hot sex on a platter (What did you say your name was again?)
Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter

Where ya at? To all my peoples with the funk
I'm the undercover brother dump your hoe in the trunk
Save all the sad songs and the tearjerkers
Nigga, step back it′s the lyrical worker
The poems that I create ain't in paper back books
The poems that I create are for hookers and the crooks

My mental is excelling ′cause I dabble in the books
I'm not the one to front on, so suboops-suboops
Yo, I gets the pickens, I'm such a damn Dickens
If you step to this then the plot just thickens
I′ll run you around the track like a bunny and a dog
To me, your just another MC on the log
A link on the chain, fluid on the brain
I boast of hype lyrics, and yours are mundane
See I can′t maintain, especially if you come back
I'm the lyrical master blaster, yeah I can do that

I can also do your girl, so leave the hoe at home
′Cause when I get done, I'll have her strung on bones
It′s the no-joke pressure, that elevates my mind
Makes me pick up and go when it's time to drop my rhymes
My title is locked, the Abstract poetic
I′m in the idle mode, but my energy's kinetic
So smooth and debonair, especially for the ear
Gotta keep my thing in gear 'cause it′s evident and clear
That I will rock (gonna rock)

Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter

Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter
Hot sex on a platter