They're Playing Our Song.

I can't get through this whole song -- maybe Cam'Ron is mad at me at the end -- but this does sort of remind me of a closeted gay friend I had in high school, who used 'cookies' as a euphemism for the opposite anatomical feature described herein.

Cheers, Mike (you're out now, right?).



I'm afraid I don't possess the capacity for irony required to really pursue this joke, given the new gay association ("'round the corner, fudge is made").

Maybe this could be our song, instead.