Run Tell Dat

So, tonight, I have to admit, I felt sexy
A good girdle and a sexy pair of heels works wonders
Brothas and sistas alike kept saying, "You look so good!"
It felt good

But the icing...the icing on the cake

I'm standing at the bar waiting for my appletini
The music has been off the chain, the vibe is "hotness"

He rolls up to me and whispers in my ear
"I've never seen you dance like that before.
I'm gonna tell the pastor."
Feeling irie, 1 1/2 drinks in, I push my rotating hips into him and whisper
"It's because you weren't looking,"
"Tell him this," I say as I roll my hips into his manhood
Oooh, it's been a while. I think I forgot.


So, here's the text he got last night, probably before he got 50 yards from my car, after dropping me off (surely the result of inebriated boldness):

You can tell the pastor
Tell him that my gyratin' hips
felt as comforting as Mama kneading dough
And he'll say "Amen"

You can tell the pastor
Tell him that like Joseph you had a dream,
a dream that my lips were anointed for more than spoken word
And he'll say "Hallelujah!"

You can tell the pastor,
Tell him how strange my fruit made you feel
And he'll teach you how all things work together

You can tell the pastor
.
.
.
But there are some things the Rev. just don't need to know

'