Mano a Mano

Mother Mother


You got a lotta bravado
You cop a mass machismo, you know
You wanna mano a mano baby
I ain't no violent type though you know me

Don't got no (villad vecilo)
Don't got no Marlboro to smoke
I'm just a flower child lately
Sipping the milk brought out by the poppyseed

Help me help you understand, I'm not a real man
I am the mistress of a gun, I get it in bed before I kill someone
Uh-uh-uh

But if you fuck with my family
You'll see the lover inside me
I've got a ba-ballistic baby
He get a little sadistic, a little crazy

Help me help you understand, he's not a real man
He's a delinquent in the street
Out running his mouth off, unable to speak of a simple feeling

We live in a jungle, a bloody jungle
Mano a mano, jungle baby
You're not a violent type, well to you God speaks

Someone help me to understand, what is a real man?
Is he an infant with a stick out picking a fight with the quieter kids?
I have come to understand what is a real man
He is the mama of a war, he's singing to sleep before a (cantaplore)
He's pinching her cheek, a volatile destroyer
Rocket grenades in a cradle, or (sedated)