Aguacatona

Hold on, little dude, put away the trumpet
Calm down, zip it up
'Cause she's got some serious curves
Like Catherine Zeta, with some style
Though a bit dry
No one dares to challenge her, she's a real goal
Like a trophy in track and field
Like a high jump
Like a long home run
Behind her, there's a fan club of guys
And she shakes it, and my little dude gets excited
Gotta think of ugly things
So there’s no fight
With her high-voltage curves
And her fitted little outfit
She’s the big avocado
She’s the real deal
With her European style from Rome
Spreading all the vibes in the lobby
I saw her, looking cross-eyed
And I approached her at the club
Acting all cool like Sisqo
And I dove in like I was jumping off a cliff

"Hey, you alone?"
"Is it a full moon, wanna be my wolf?"
"I got a Bulova and I'm in a limo!"
"Inside it smells like pine!"
"Don’t be scared, I’m a classy guy!"
"I dance to anything!"
"In fact, I can do the Chinese split!"
"Did I freak you out with the Chinese thing?"
"Don’t get hysterical!"
"I dance like Chayanne in 'Fiesta En América', you know!"

"Oh, baby, shut it!
Avoid the touch!"

Damn, this went foul...
More like a strikeout...
They hit me with a rocket launcher...

(With a little blush, I grab the touch!)
(And I give the guys a flush!)
(Back it up, 'cause my skirt has thorns!)
(Baby, I’m not your girl!)
(With a little blush, I grab the touch!)
(And I give the guys a flush!)
(Back it up, 'cause my skirt has thorns!)
(Baby, I’m not your girl!)

Okay, I got stuck on the dance floor
The girl turned out to be sharp
But I got more tricks up my sleeve
I’m heading to the bar
Give me a shot of rum
To catch the rhythm
'Cause this big head is ready to explode
He’ll catch any devil
I swear I’ll hit on the girlfriends
The married ones, and the loud ones
I’m going a hundred miles out of control
Now I’m gonna shine brighter than Armor-All
With my self-esteem sky-high
'Cause the night is long
And if it doesn’t go smooth, it’ll go rough

Look, look, look
Hold up, dude, chill out
You’re acting more intense than Sylvester Stallone
Lower the action levels, my brother
There’s no rush...
(But I got a plan!)
Look, Bobby, forget that
When you walk in
You gotta take it slow
Pop three mint gums
To kill the cigarette smell
First, make sure there’s no crowd
That she’s alone, and if she’s with someone
Then you play it slick
You sneak around back, where the goods are
Ready to roll in the mix
Close and slow, don’t say a word
Swallow it down, 'cause the saga’s about to start

And I let loose like I was at home
We wrapped our bodies
In a greasy salad bar
Skin covered in salsa sweat
She’s nursing me like a real nurse
Squeezing the leather like Cepeda
A total fantasy, a little devil mixed with a bandit
We danced all night long
Until I got bags under my eyes
She put a spell on me, the enchantress
Like a goldfish in a bowl, she left me floating
Heating things up, straight to the mambo
Without wasting time, you know
The sweet part is when you go down slow
Blowing your breath with minty freshness
Real smooth like Freddy Kenton
Well, but when I’m gonna talk to her
To ask for her number
She managed to escape
Before I could put on
My shaving cream
This won’t cut it, man

(With a little blush, I grab the touch!)
(And I give the guys a flush!)
(Back it up, 'cause my skirt has thorns!)
(Baby, I’m not your girl!)
(With a little blush, I grab the touch!)
(And I give the guys a flush!)
(Back it up, 'cause my skirt has thorns!)
(Baby, I’m not your girl!)