God help us! Too many of 'em have been put on the glass, girls!

Take 'em off the glass!

Please, where did they all come from!?

Take 'em off the glass!

I know you were lured by game, but your windows are buckling out the frames. Your whole windshield is full up on all them Ds so how your driver even manage to see? That ain't safe. That ain't right. That's scary. How many of y'all are in that car anyway?

Swervin' up in my lane, lookin' like you're...

I can't keep rapping. Oh my god, your car is busting apart. There are boobs popping out through the doors and from the trunk. Dozens of titties bursting out of every part of your car. Where are all those boobs coming from?

Lungs, lungs, motherfuckin' lungs!

Get a brother... get a brother... oh my god! This is some Akira shit right here. All them boobs have burst up out of that car and are buckin' and writhin' all across the freeway forming like, I don't know, what is this?

B double O B S amalgamatin' into a single mass and they ain't gonna let us pass. See them titties flop on my rag top, tear it open like a... oh shit they just smashed up Kid Sensation into a meat paste. Bail! We already know the glass won't hold 'em.

Back! Everybody back! I should have never asked for 'em on the glass. Titties helixin' up the Space Needle. Big goddang fun bags formin' into a contiguous entity, seekin' out brothers and smashin' 'em all up. Army ain't got tanks big enough for them titties. Not a helicopter missile could be shot would do much more than make 'em madder.

Oh my Lord in Heaven! They're spreadin' all over Seattle now. Every street from Broadway to Jackson got titties smashin' up all the traffic, bustin' in the store fronts, and tearin' down the world we'd built. It only took minutes for 'em to multiply far beyond the glass. It never could have contained 'em.

Damn my hubris! To the shelters!

I just wanted 'em to shake and get up on that glass. Now our world lies in ruins. Breasts, which were my second greatest desire behind immense buttocks, now populate my nightmares as I fitfully sleep alongside the last guttering fires of civilization. They'll find us down here. They'll put 'em on the bulkhead and put 'em on the hatch.

Soon enough, we will be found out, and they gotta get them titty rounds out, slap 'em up on that steel, grind us under that titty heel. Mankind ain't bouncin' back from that extinction level rack.

What awful folly! Why did I demand 'em, when clearly they cannot be contained?

– Sir Mix-a-Lot (@sexyfacts4u)

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