From Michael Fowler’s William Shakespeare, da Bard:
Shall I compare thy booty to a summer’s day, bitch?
Thy booty art so hot and stankin’, I sweat and itch.
Thugz run from taverns to scope so quizzically
Thy ripe, bouncin’ booty gliding by so physically.
I’m pretty sure some guy was shouting this to the crowd assembled on the L train platform just the other day.