Your Mother Is A Basketball Songtext
von Joe Hawley

Your mother′s so fat they didn't call Ghostbusters
Stay Puft Man was all, "I don′t trust her."
In other words, she ate him
Stay Puft Man's big, so that's how we know she′s fat--
Just to clarify

Basketball, a basketball
Yeah, well, your mother is a basketball
I went there: your mother is a basketball
A basketball, she′s a basketball

Stop. Everybody take 5
Good show, guys, but I don't feel a vibe
Let it all out; don′t hold back; incriminate
Here on this court, you gotta push it to the limit, mate
Reach deep inside, throw the shots, come alive.
I'll be here tweeting the whole thing live
So guys, be loquacious; show off your gall!
What did you say his mother was again? (A basketball.)


A basketball.
After all, she′s bouncing like she had a bottle of Adderall
She's also fat--not sure if I mentioned that
Twenty-nine inches wide from all sides, to be exact

Man, that′s wack. I object! But, to change the subject,
I double dribbled your Mom's bombs and she liked it
Now I'm flying higher than a -- Viper,
Where you′re airing free throws like a drunken sniper

I believe you need a reason like you′re Zeppelin Piper
If your mom were on Tinder, I'd swipe her right ′cuz I like her
She's spherical, meaningful, clear and clerical,
A leather planet with the gravity that makes it equivocal

Ooh, feeling it now, moves smooth, so adored
World′s hearing it now, down under to Detroit
Pity the pal who fails to score a swish,
Never gonna hit the buzzer 'cuz she just won′t fit!
Not that curvy's bad boys, who ---?
But the women's NBA′s not all round and rad
Don′t be lose ground, be a man;
Do they fit basketballs with gastric bands?


Oedipus Rex, Electra complex,
Pegasus reigns on these state springs but I digress
Surf's up! I board a tidal wave of jump
Your box probably don′t even pump, chump. (Sup?)
I got pump up box, I pump my bar in my hand
And shoot infinity points from up across this land
So you can't pass the man if you know what′s best, son
'Less you wanna become a Cuban guessing lesson

Slam dunk! (Foul?) Ref, make the call!
Oh gee, oh gosh, this is all too much
Guys, I gotta confide--I′m just an actress, y'all
Picked last at the dang-blasted casting call

Some games don't have winners
Some chickens don′t end up on plates for dinners,
They contain the innards
But we know the sun will always rise and always fall
And that your mother will always be a basketball

Basketball, a basketball.
If you′re listening, your mother is a basketball
That's right, you! Your mother is a basketball
She′s a basketball, bouncing faster all,
Over the rainbow in the stair,
Somehow, somewhere, someway, somewhere