William Joseph "Bill" Bogaard (born 1938 in Sioux City, Iowa) is an American Democratic politician, and the current mayor of Pasadena, California, elected in 1999, and re-elected with an overwhelming majority of the vote (over 85%) in 2003. Bogaard is the first elected mayor of Pasadena since the 1940s, the longest serving mayor in Pasadena's history, and the only mayor to serve non-consecutive terms (Bogaard served a two-year term as mayor in the 1980s).
Prior to being elected mayor, Bogaard was a lawyer, and taught at the University of Michigan and the University of Southern California. He graduated from Loyola Marymount University and was a captain in the U.S. Air Force. He obtained his juris doctorate degree from the University of Michigan. His wife is Claire Bogaard, who moved with Bill to Pasadena in 1971, and they have four children.
In the 2006 election, Bogaard sought re-election for a third term as Mayor. His opponent was Aaron Proctor. The election was held on March 6, 2007.
Bogaard easily won the March 6, 2007 election against Proctor, getting 11,558 votes (88.7% of the vote).
[VERSE 1: Lord Finesse]
I wonder how brothers' heads are screwed on
When they frontin around town with the next man jewels on
Talkin 'bout they could've been a star
Sportin turned off beepers, drivin around in rented cars
That only happens in America
When you catch a brother frontin with a turned off cellular
Out there tryin to jingle
Like he's the muthafuckin man and got a knot full of singles
And always half-steppin
Cause even at a dice game niggas gotta start ass-bettin
They have the whole plan plotted
Till you say, "Celo, everybody pay up," they yell: ("My man gotta")
Kickin game at random
His favorite line is: ("Don't worry, I'ma hit you off when my man come")
And how claim he got power
When he doesn't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of
And always frontin like the other kids
Not a dime to his name and still livin in his mother's crib
So why you're frontin like you're large?
Don't front on me, nigga, I pull your muthafuckin card
[CHORUS x4]
[Large Professor] Pull they cards, yo, tell em how you feel
I gotta it lay it on down (on the real to real)
[VERSE 2: Lord Finesse]
Nowadays hoes is ahead of ya
(Why you say that?) Cause bitches be frontin on the regular
For instance, take the neighborhood freak
Let her get a outfit and her hair done and the bitch won't speak
Frontin and actin all fly
But pull up in a 535 and homegirl'll be like: ("Hi...")
Girls kick the same old song
(As long as he got money everything is alright) Wrong
Yo, she's all out of order
When she barely keeps a quarter lookin for a brother to support her
Hangin out and she stay frontin
Wear the tightest shit and get mad when a muthafucka say somethin
Catch homegirl walkin through
And be like: ("What's up shorty?") She be like: ("Who you think you talkin to?")
Me, I'm quick to say, "Walk, hoe"
And save that conversation for a talk show
You wanna know what Finesse think?
I don't give sluts enough to make they muthafuckin breath stink
Especially when they frontin like stars
I shout ya out, bitch, and pull your muthafuckin card
[CHORUS]
[VERSE 3: Lord Finesse]
Nowadays you got jerks frontin
The softest niggas talkin 'bout they wanna hurt somethin
Matter of fact, I know plenty of frauds
The way brothers act, they deserve muthafuckin Emmy Awards
Nowadays brothers ruin rap
With all this murder and the killin when them niggas don't be doin that
You startin to bore me, fellas
Y'all ain't murderers, but yo, y'all great fuckin storytellers
I speak what I feel
And if niggas ain't real, then keep they fuckin lip sealed
Because they front like vandals
Runnin all them scandals when they softer than Tevin Campbell
("I kill a nigga") That's what most say
When they wouldn't shoot a fly off the wall if they had a can of roach spray
So why you're frontin like you're hard?
[ VERSE 1 ]
Now why must a buster try to act so hard?
Let me clear this bull as I pull niggas' hoe cards
The wall over your eyes, let me remove it
Don't claim to be a soldier when you know you can't prove it
Niggas talk a good game when they're lame as fuck
And you'se a coward like Howard, the famous duck
A star-struck groupie might not recognize
That had that ass in a tight spot checkin eyes
In real life you'se a midget, niggas thought you was bigger
Homies in the hood askin me (What's up with that nigga?)
If you only knew, you'd probably do somethin drastic
That's why I don't be kickin it, cause niggas is plastic
It was all about money, while I slept she spent
Now honey need to check what she represent
I still got love for em, but they need to be told
All that glitters ain't gold
Don't make me pull your hoe card
(Get your hands off my pocket
What you're handlin my pockets, nigga?
Get your hands off my pockets)
Don't make me pull your hoe card
(Now do everybody see these cards?)
(Yeah, I ain't no punk
I don't give a damn where I am
I'm gon' tell the truth)
[ VERSE 2 ]
It always got to be one
Diarrhea-mouth nigga on the street who let his mouth steady run
411er, call him Mr. Information
Now how the hell do my name always come up in your conversation?
Spreadin gossip like a goddamn plague
If you don't know me, homie, then don't call Kam Craig
Spittin caps on your trap'll get you slapped like a hooker
Sweatin niggas so hard, you think they in a pressure cooker
I took a lotta shit, now I gotta get down
(All them Muslim niggas is marks) Now how that shit sound?
You better ask around before you come up missin
We got ways to handle people who don't wanna listen
With respect from the streets to the cell blocks
Somebody might find your tongue and your ears in a mailbox
The hell shocks a hoe and bro broke her down
Yes, I guess the card that was pulled was a joker clown
(To be a hoe)
Don't make me pull your hoe card
(He's postin, he's postin
...right?
Take the hoe, take the hoe)
You know that
Don't make me pull your hoe card
(Think that this is some joke?)
(Come on, take a card, any card)
(Yes
We gon' have to fight tonight)
[ VERSE 3 ]
So will the real O.G.'s please stand up?
Swearin you a gangsta, but got the wrong hand up
'I put that on the hood', that's your favorite line
Quick to jump a gang sign and say (I'm down for mine)
Always talkin bout jail, the nigga ain't served one bid
Braggin bout what you will do, or what you done did
You'd be the man if we let you tell it
But your nuts about the size of a shot gun shell, it
Seems we gon' have to pull your skirt up
Cause I know you ain't down to kick no dirt up, word up
It's like a three-ring circus, all the clowns I see daily
Like they fresh outta Ringling Brothers, bought em in Bali
So let the sideshow begin, step right on in, hoe
Those knowin don't talk, and those who talk really don't know
Turnin tricks on the young and dumb
They hot (But goddamn, Kam, where these busters keep comin from?)
The word of a nerd ain't no good
Cause O.G.'s run the pen, and B.G.'s run the hood
Ain't nowhere to hide, in the streets or on the yard
So if you ain't a troop, somebody due to pull your hoe card
(Right, right, that was live
The director captured the essence of street life
In a war-type situation)
(Think that this some joke?)
(Please don't make me hurt you)
Don't make me pull your hoe card
(And we don't even have to hide
The moneys that we make from hookers)
(It's all in the cards
It's all in the cards, youknowmsayin?)
Don't make me pull your hoe card
(Think that this is some joke?)
Don't make me pull your hoe card