Песни, които те карат да мечтаеш за кръффф!
Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2006 12:22 pm
В сми, искаш да пречукаш техните автори/изпълнители/почитатели с пластмасова бъркалка за кафе! 
Та, от доста време безжалостно ме преследват некви недоразумения, състоящи се от ей тея!, сиреч Black eyed peas.
Това, което ме кара да искам да ги застигне повсеместна гибел е нещото, наречено My humps.
Ей му текста:
Та, от доста време безжалостно ме преследват некви недоразумения, състоящи се от ей тея!, сиреч Black eyed peas.
Това, което ме кара да искам да ги застигне повсеместна гибел е нещото, наречено My humps.
Ей му текста:
Почутелно, затрогващо, късащо сърцето и душата повествование, изказано от джуките на потомствена блондинка, възпяваща красотата на залеза с помощта на черен нега. Почти станах расист. Това парче е толкова вбесяващо, че авторите му заслужават специална награда от мен. Потопена в бавнодействаща отрова и наръсена с антракс, разбира се."My Humps"
What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps. (Check it out)
I drive these brothers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these icies.
Dolce & Gabbana,
Fendi and NaDonna
Karan, they be sharin’
All their money got me wearin' fly
But I ain’t askin,
They say they love my ass ‘n,
Seven Jeans, True Religion's,
I say no, but they keep givin’
So I keep on takin’
And no I ain’t taken
We can keep on datin’
I keep on demonstrating.
My love, my love, my love, my love
You love my lady lumps,
My hump, my hump, my hump,
My humps they got u,
She’s got me spending.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me.
She’s got me spendin’.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me, up on me, on me
What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What u gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’m a make, make, make, make you scream
Make u scream, make you scream.
Cos of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps. (Check it out)
I met a girl down at the disco.
She said hey, hey, hey yea let’s go.
I could be your baby, you can be my honey
Let's spend time not money.
I mix your milk wit my cocoa puff,
Milky, milky cocoa,
Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky riiiiiiight.
They say I’m really sexy,
The boys they wanna sex me.
They always standing next to me,
Always dancing next to me,
Tryin’ a feel my hump, hump.
Lookin’ at my lump, lump.
U can look but you can’t touch it,
If you touch it I'ma start some drama,
You don’t want no drama,
No, no drama, no, no, no, no drama
So don’t pull on my hand boy,
You ain’t my man, boy,
I’m just tryn’a dance boy,
And move my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My lovely lady lumps (lumps)
My lovely lady lumps (lumps)
My lovely lady lumps (lumps)
In the back and in the front (lumps)
My lovin’ got u,
She’s got me spendin’.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me.
She’s got me spendin’.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me, up on me, on me.
What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What you gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’ma make, make, make, make you scream
Make you scream, make you scream.
What you gon do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off this hump.
What you gon’ do wit all that breast?
All that breast inside that shirt?
I’ma make, make, make, make you work
Make you work, work, make you work.
She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin all your money on me and spendin’ time on me
She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin' all your money on me, up on me, on me.
), така че едва ли съм мерило 
А пък луканката не беше ли турска?
А YMCA е просто у-ни-кал-но тъпа. Не, нещо повече, ако е възможно. Това е песен, писана сякаш от Джордж Буш и вдъхновена от Сакскобургготски, за Бога!
