This is one of those funny, get-your-hips-moving songs that Bloodhound Gang are infamous for. it’s got a great beat, the narcissistic lyrics are a hoot, and, you know, just get your boogie on.
And of course, the lyrics:
A is for apple
B is for balloons
C is for crayons
D is for drum
Like my scrotum here it is in a nutshell
One thousand nine hundred and seventy-two
Thats the year I got here when my dear mothers water blew
Not really realizing the prize thats been begot to her
The bona fide lo-fi high-octane philosopher
Genius with a penis the few the proud the me
I liked me so much I had to buy the company
Soul for sale sold to satan for a hell of a lotta luck
Im hard to come by like a straight guy working at starbucks
Thank the thinkers that think they thunk the thoughts that theorized
Idolized or despised bet Im gettin recognized
Mount rushmore it? no ignore it cant rock with no big head
Half of the people want me half of the people want me dead
I am the angel of def with my rhymes against humanity
Teeter-tottering between brilliance and insanity
The one part the fuehrer the one part the pope
Its the inevitable return baby of the great white dope
Conclusions you drew proportions you blew
Lost son of iggy? false bigger nose than ziggy? true
Yes my name is jimmy pop no my pops name is dick
Dont admit to kick it slick you thick derelict critic
Put down for missed notes put up with misquotes
Dont want the whole story? should have bought the cliff notes
Like fingerpainting 101 give me no credit for having class
One thumb on the pulse of the nation one thumb in your girlfriends ass
Written on written off scoff callin me a joke
I dont think that Im a sell-out but I do enjoy coke!
I struck gold but never took it for granite thats how I planned it so can it
Around the planet fans demand it and youll never understand it
When I die no lie plan on mass pandemonium
They may display my brain in a pickle jar at the smithsonian
The one part the fuehrer the one part the pope
Its the inevitable return baby of the great white dope
One part the fuehrer one part the pope
The inevitable return of the great white dope
One part the fuehrer one part the pope
The inevitable return of the great white dope
One part the fuehrer one part the pope
The inevitable return of the great white dope
One part the fuehrer one part the pope
The inevitable return of the great white dope
Great white dope
Great white dope
Great white dope
Great white dope
mc chris is probably best known as the voice of Hesh on Sealab 2021 and the voice of MC P Pants on Aqua-Teen Hunger Force. This particular song was first showcased during the credits of an episode of Sealab 2021.
This particular version is a remix, and a pretty cool sounding remix too (officially, it’s the Baddd Spellah vs MC Chris - Fett’s Vette (The Good, the Baddd and the Ugly) mix, and it can be downloaded from mc chris’s website. Plus, I just love the video I found on Youtube that someone made using the Star Wars Galaxies game.
And of course, the lyrics:
Cruisin’ Mos Espa
In my Delorean
War’s over
I’m a peacetime mandalorian
My story has stumped
Star Wars historians
Deep in debate,
Buffet plate at Bennigan’s
Rhyme renegade
Sure to penetrate
First and second offense
I won’t hesitate
Got a job to do
And Darth’s the guy that delegates
Got something against Skywalker
Someone he really hates
I don’t give a fuck
I’m after Solo
For all I care
He could be hidin’ at Yoda’s dojo
Gotta make the money
Credit’s no good
When the jawas runin’ shop
In your neighborhood
Think you can cook
I got a grappling hook
Let’s make this quick
‘Cause I’m really booked
I’m a devious degenerate
Defender of the devil
Shut down all the trash compactors
On the detention level
chorus
My backpack’s got jets
Well I’m Boba the Fett
Well I bounty hunt for Jabba Hutt
To finance my ‘Vette
wicky wicky woo
Well I chill in deep space
A mask is over my face
Well I deliver the prize
But I still narrow my eyes
‘Cause my time
I don’t like to waste.
Get down
I’m a question
Wrapped inside an enigma
Get inside the slave one
Find your homing signal
From Endor to Hoth
Ripley to Spock
I’ll find what you want
But there’s gonna be a cost
See, my name is Boba Fett
I know my shit is tight
Start not actin’right
You’re frozen in carbonite
Got telescopic sight
Flame throwers on my wrist
You still don’t get the gist
Spiked boots are made to kick
Targets are made to hit
You think I give a shit
Yo mama is a bitch
I see you in the Sarlaac Pit
You just flipped my switch
Integrity been dissed
You scratchin’ on my itch
You know I shoot to get
Got bambinas at cantinas
Waitin’ to lick my lusty lips
So I’ll let you get back inside
Your little space ship
Give you a head start
‘Cause I’m the sportin’ kind
Consider the starting line
The sneaky smile I hide inside
Hope you have hyper drive (drive)
pray to stay alive (’live)
Don’t try to slip me a five
‘Cause I never take a bribe
To the beat of a different drummer
Bad ass bounty hunter
Let no man put asunder
Or else they be put under
As in six feet
Got an imperial fleet
Backin’ me up, gonna blow up
Any attempt to defeat
They gotta death star
Got four payments on my car
Hand it over to hammer head
At Mos Eisley bar
He used to carjack
Now he’s a barback
Just goes to show how you can
Get back on the right track
As for me that’s not an option
Can’t say that with more clarity
Me going legit would be like
Jar Jar on speech therapy
Chorus
My backpack’s got jets
Well I’m Boba the Fett
Well I bounty hunt for Jabba Hutt
To finance my ‘Vette
wicky wicky woo
Well I chill in deep space
A mask is over my face
Well I deliver the prize
But I still narrow my eyes
‘Cause my time
I don’t like to waste.
Get down
Slice you open like a Taun Taun
Faster than the Autobahn
Or a motorbike in Tron
Do the deed and then I’m gone
Jaba has a hissyfit
Contact Calrissian
Over a colt, the plan unfolds
No politic is legit
Back in the day
When I was a slave
Living life in the fast lane
Like in a pod race
My mean streak tweaked
I became a basket case
So this space ace
Split that place, poste haste
Took up a noble cause
Called the Clone Wars
‘Cause life’s not all about
Girls and cars
Getting fucked up
In fucked up bars
See, I’m not a retard
Or gay like de Barge
I’m large and in charge
With a face so scarred
A cold black heart
That’s been torn apart
The Sith wish that they
Had a dick so hard
‘Cause it’s long long ago
In a pussy far far
Call me master, ’cause I’m faster
Than Pryor on fire
I no longer have to hot wire
I’m a hunter for hire
With no plans to retire
And all the sucka MCs
Can call me sire
Chorus
My backpack’s got jets! (jets jets jets)
Well I’m Boba the Fett! (the Fett the Fett)
Well I bounty hunt for Jabba Hutt, (Jabba Hutt Jabba Hutt Jabba Hutt)
…To finance my ‘Vette (my ‘Vette my ‘Vette my ‘Vette my ‘Vette)
This song is both funny and thought-provoking. If you ever played the Infocom games back in the 1980’s, you’ll have an appreciation for this song and what it means(Zork, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and Leather Goddesses of Phobos are all referenced), but there’s an additional layer there as well, as the song profiles a gamer who’s gotten into the game a little too deeply.
I was lucky enough to find a couple of blog posts about the making of the video by the director: before shooting and after.
And of course, the lyrics:
You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
If this predicament seems particularly cruel,
consider whose fault it could be:
not a torch or a match in your inventory.
It got narrated at you in the second person.
Every time you booted up, it seemed you got another version
of your life told to you by a status line blinking,
the impossible people you could be without thinking
yourself insane of personality problems,
with a mop on a drop ship or trying to stab a goblin.
That don’t play in public life. You get arrested,
psychoactive medication daily in your big intestine
and attesting that the voices in your head
said the dwarf shot first, embedded arrow then you bled.
But doctors with needles posit repeatedly
that you knocked down that midget in the park unneededly.
This has seeded the idea that you should
never venture from the house, never get misunderstood
by the non-player characters inhabiting Earth,
none of whom are too concerned about Nord & Bert,
not one of whom ever aimed a fish around the room,
trying to get it in the ear canal because doom
beset the last planet they were on, or near
the verge of a set of poetics they wouldn’t hear.
Never peered at the clues with invisible ink.
No SM goddesses ever gave them pause to think.
Never piloted six robots, each distinct.
Don’t matter how many 2-liters they drink,
they’re not gonna follow what you’re saying at all.
They impugn and appall in the scope of their gall,
as you hide in your room in disgust with the lights turned out.
Turn ‘em on in a turn. Leave ‘em off for now.
You read a pamphlet from a mailbox that urges low cunning,
offers cursor and prompt: type >run and you’re running,
and parses what you tell it, pronouns intact,
abbreviations if you need ‘em (better keep it gramat.).
Better punctuate your sentences and never redact
the name of anything ambiguous. You’re about to get asked,
do you mean the red one, the round one, the crooked, or the blue?
Better keep that in your pocket, don’t know yet what it could do.
Could be the spray for the grue; you’re gonna need it if it is —
a situation that reloads, restarts, or quits.
Wonder how many points out of how many points
you’ve got to get before you’re done. Endeavor then to rejoice,
when you wish more ardently, identities shed,
for continuance, the rhyme forever voyaging. Fled
from all lights and colors, from all smells and sound:
just the lyric on the monochrome display and you’re proud
to make another verse appear by solving riddles.
If you didn’t have to sleep, you know you’d never seek acquittal.
You’d be ever in the middle and the midst of quest.
If it weren’t for >don the gown. you’d never get dressed.
In your underwear typing, just like Front,
keyboard attached up to my fingers — wrists bear the brunt —
as I seek to do stunts simply through their descriptions.
I think I went once to some sands that were Egyptian.
And I retain plane tickets, snapshots, receipts,
yet I stand unconvinced that this has happened to me.
I wouldn’t want to misremember or get confused.
Recall of crawling towards a pyramid appearing over dunes.
Recall of entering the thing and descending stairs.
Does it descend from there, adventure to nightmare?
Did I battle a snake? Was the treasure intact?
Or did the TRS-80 in my brain get hacked?
Thanks, Grampa, for buying it. Now my life’s ruined.
Twenty-two years later, head’s infested: got the grue in.
PLUGHing, XYZZYfying, trying to escape,
but I can’t ‘cause I’m up and around and awake.
This is just a fun song. The band carefully (well, maybe not carefully) chose dialogue from The Simpsons character Ralph Wiggum and wove it into a song, and quite frankly, it’s pretty amusing. The song also rocks, and I have to give a call-out to Baron Bizarre from the Captain Comics Message Board for introducing it to me.
There’s some info at SongFacts and SongMeanings. Most of the lyrics are things that Ralph said, except for the chorus and the ‘Yvan eht nioj’ parts.
Here’s a link to what is apparently a fan video
And of course, the lyrics:
I’m going to Africa yes Ma’am I’m a brick was President Lincoln okay? Mitten
There’s a dog in the vent chicken necks? I pick Ken Griffey Jr. I fell out two times
I’m pedaling backwards this snowflake tastes like fish sticks we’re a totem pole dying tickles
I heard a Frankenstein lives there she’s touching my special area go banana
Ralphie Ralphie
Get off get off
The stage the stage
Sweetheart Sweetheart
Oh say can you rock?
I’m a pop sensation
I’m a pop sensation
Salmon gutter?
I’m Idaho you smell like dead bunnies that’s where I saw the leprechaun fun toys are fun
Chocolate microscopes you’re not it that is so 1991 I bit my tongue
Ralphie Ralphie
Get off get off
The stage the stage
Sweetheart Sweetheart
Oh say can you rock?
I’m a pop sensation
I’m a pop sensation
Yvan eht nioj
Yvan eht nioj
Yvan eht nioj
Yvan eht nioj
Yvan eht nioj
Yvan eht nioj
Yvan eht nioj
Yvan eht nioj
My sash says Ultraman
I totally love this song. Completely and utterly. It is the one song guaranteed to get me up and shaking my butt, dancing around the room like a spastic maniac. I love the drums, the backing vocals, the video–it’s all good.
I found some historical information on Wikipedia:
“He Was Really Sayin’ Somethin’ is a soul song written by Motown Records songwriters Norman Whitfield, William “Mickey” Stevenson, and Edward Holland, Jr. in 1964 (see 1964 in music), notable in both a 1964 version by American Motown girl group The Velvelettes, and a 1982 hit version (with the title altered to “Really Saying Something”) by British girl group Bananarama.
There’s more there, but I thought that was interesting.
And of course, the lyrics:
Hey yeah yeah
I was walking down the street
(Do-wah do-wah)
When this boy started following me
(Oh yeah)
Now I ignored all the things he said
(Do-wah do-wah)
He moved me in every way
With his collar unbuttononed
On my side he was struttin’
(chorus)
He was really saying something
(Saying something)
Really saying something
(Saying something)
Bop bop shoo be do-wah
Bop bop shoo be do-wah
He flirted every step of the way
(Do-wah do-wah)
I could hear every word he’d say
(Oh yeah)
My resistance was getting low
(Do-wah do-wah)
And my feelings started to show
My heart started thumpin’
Blood pressure jumpin’
(chorus)
He walked me to my door
(Do-wah do-wah)
I agreed to see him once more
(Oh yeah)
Lady like it may not be
(Do-wah do-wah)
But he moved me tremendously
Although he was bold
My heart he stole
(chorus ad lib)
I love this song. It isn’t anything new, or earth-shaking, or really anything. But damn, it’s fun.
I love the video. It’s very German, and if you know what that means, you rock (for now). Love the Casio, love the simple beat, love the song.
And of course, the lyrics:
What you do and what you don’t
what you will and what you won’t
what you can and what you can’t
This is what you got to know
loved you though it didn’t show
Ich lieb dich nicht du liebst mich nicht
Da da da I don’t love you you don’t love me
I know why you went away
understand you couldn’t stay
wonder where you are today
after all is said and done
it was right for you to run
Ich lieb dich nicht du liebst mich nicht
Da da da I don’t love you you don’t love me
Christmas Wrapping is my all time favorite non-parody Christmas song–heck, it’s my all-time favorite Christmas song period.
As a rule, I am not a fan of Christmas music. To me, if you won’t listen to it 11 months out of the year, what makes it any better that one month? However, this song breaks that mold.
To begin with, it’s not the slightest bit smarmy. The story the song tells could happen to just about anyone, so pretty much anyone can relate. Not to mention that it’s a fun little story too. Additionally, it’s funky as all get-out, so it works on both levels–you can listen to it and dance to it.
Apparently I’m not alone in my thinking about this song either. Kudos about at True Enough for You and SongMeanings, with my favorite quote being;
This is probably the only Christmas song that doesn’t make me want to shoot the radio.
And of course, the lyrics;
“Bah, humbug!” No, that’s too strong
‘Cause it is my favorite holiday
But all this year’s been a busy blur
Don’t think I have the energy
To add to my already mad rush
Just ’cause it’s ’tis the season.
The perfect gift for me would be
Completions and connections left from
Last year, ski shop,
Encounter, most interesting.
Had his number but never the time
Most of ‘81 passed along those lines.
So deck those halls, trim those trees
Raise up cups of Christmas cheer,
I just need to catch my breath,
Christmas by myself this year.
Calendar picture, frozen landscape,
Chilled this room for twenty-four days,
Evergreens, sparkling snow
Get this winter over with!
Flashback to springtime, saw him again,
Would’ve been good to go for lunch,
Couldn’t agree when we were both free,
We tried, we said we’d keep in touch.
Didn’t, of course, ’til summertime,
Out to the beach to his boat could I join him?
No, this time it was me,
Sunburn in the third degree.
Now the calendar’s just one page
And, of course, I am excited
Tonight’s the night, but I’ve set my mind
Not to do too much about it.
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
But I think I’ll miss this one this year.
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
But I think I’ll miss this one this year.
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
But I think I’ll miss this one this year.
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
But I think I’ll miss this one this year.
Hardly dashing through the snow
Cause I bundled up too tight
Last minute have-to-do’s
A few cards a few calls
‘Cause it’s r-s-v-p
No thanks, no party lights
It’s Christmas Eve, gonna relax
Turned down all of my invites.
Last fall I had a night to myself,
Same guy called, halloween party,
Waited all night for him to show,
This time his car wouldn’t go,
Forget it, it’s cold, it’s getting late,
Trudge on home to celebrate
In a quiet way, unwind
Doing Christmas right this time.
A&P has provided me
With the world’s smallest turkey
Already in the oven, nice and hot
Oh damn! Guess what I forgot?
So on with the boots, back out in the snow
To the only all-night grocery,
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
In the line is that guy I’ve been chasing all year!
“I’m spending this one alone,” he said.
“Need a break; this year’s been crazy.”
I said, “Me too, but why are you?
You mean you forgot cranberries too?”
Then suddenly we laughed and laughed
Caught on to what was happening
That Christmas magic’s brought this tale
To a very happy ending! ”
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
Couldn’t miss this one this year!
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
Couldn’t miss this one this year!
2 Skinnee J’s were one of the first nerdcore bands to achieve prominence in the mid-to-late 1990’s. I particularly like this song because a) it rocks b) I love songs that change musical styles within the song and c) I’ll leave up to a particular poster on SongMeanings, with whom I agree completely:
This is my pump up song.. I feel like I can face anything and it puts me in such an awesome mood everytime I listen to it. Any song that tells people to “Unite like Thundercats” is great in my opinion
.
Well, okay, the Thundercats thing is lost on me (in fact, I’m not even sure that’s the lyric), but it’s still a cool, upbeat song.
And of course, the lyrics:
This song goes out to all the ones with coke bottle glasses
To all you lonely kids who were the last picked in gym class
We got your back - detract your malefactors
All you up in the back unite like Thundercats (you’re never gonna catch us?)
Get up, Get up cause we’re fed up, fed up
Try to rise and keep your head up,head up
Leave the kinging to Kong,
We’ll be singin the song
Bring it on,Bring it on,Bring it on
It’s a sentimental journey,
presenting sentiments of resentments that will burn me.
Unearthing our sharp knives turning slowly blunt.
My role is to unfold so I gotta Face the front.
I used to spend my days,
Dazed and Confused.
Sixteen year underdog
still dawning underoos.
Sorry bout my style
I know my flow sounds used,
Depicted and directed
by the likes of John Hughes.
We recycle recitals of enemies and idols.
Unscrawled in the hall like Anthony Michael
I lack plan or title just one of the boys.
On islands and islands of Misfit toys.
Get up, Get up cause we’re fed up, fed up
Try to rise and keep your head up,head up
Leave the kinging to Kong,
We’ll be singin the song
Bring it on,Bring it on,Bring it on
My field of dreams was a parking lot,
With hot shots doing doughnuts
Pissin off the grownups.
Me on the side
Writing unrequited love letters,
That I would send
to my imaginary girlfriend.
I had to pretend cuz
I never played football,
The kid drafted last
pick at the wall.
To ease the monotony
Of everybody mockin me,
Spend time
Tootin rhymes like botany.
Now what I wanna be -
What you wanna be?
To be famous,
I claim this
Try to gain this.
But sometimes it’s heinous
the way the shameless
Surround me like a tide they’ll drown me.
I’m lookin for all intelligent life forms
I’m lookin for a club off the street.
So I can reach out and touch somebody,
Anybody,
everybody.
This song goes out to all the ones with coke bottle glasses
To all you lonely kids who were the last picked in gym class
We got your back - detract your malefactors
All you up in the back unite like Thundercats (you’re never gonna catch us?)
Get up,Get up cause we’re fed up,fed up
Try to rise and keep your head up,head up
Leave the kinging to Kong,
We’ll be singin the song
Bring it on,Bring it on,Bring it on
Such a lovely song.
One After 909 was one of the first songs that John Lennon ever wrote, but it took over a decade for it to actually get recorded onto a Beatles album. Obviously influenced by American R&B of the 1940’s and 1950’s, it’s just a charming little ditty that gets your toes tapping. I could easily see it being one of those songs that they get the supergroup to play at the end of a lousy awards show or something along those lines.
Some additional information and speculation:
Here’s a link to the rooftop performance from Let It Be
And of course, the lyrics:
My baby says she’s trav’ling on the one after 909
I said move over honey I’m travelling on that line
I said move over once, move over twice
Come on baby don’t be cold as ice.
I said I’m trav’ling on the one after 909
I begged her not to go and I begged her on my bended knees,
You’re only fooling around, you’re fooling around with me.
I said move over once, move over twice
Come on baby don’t be cold as ice.
I said I’m trav’ling on the one after 909
Pick up my bag, run to the station
Railman says you’ve got the the wrong location
Pick up my bag, run right home
Then I find I’ve got the number wrong
Well I said I’m trav’ling on the one after 909
I said move over honey I’m travelling on that line
I said move over once, move over twice
Come on baby don’t be cold as ice.
I said we’re trav’ling on the one after 9 0,
I said we’re trav’ling on the one after 9 0,
I said we’re trav’ling on the one after 909.
Two Of Us is both a sweet and a bittersweet song for several reasons:
- It was one of the last times we heard Paul McCartney and John Lennon sing in harmony
- It’s a very sweet, heartfelt song. Initially written for Linda Eastmann (or was she McCartney by then?), it actually serves as sort of a tribute to John Lennon
- It’s cheerful and wistful at the same time–it sounds like a song about an everlasting friendship, but ultimately you can tell it’s a goodbye song as well.
One way or the other, it’s a great song.
Here’s some information/speculation from the usual suspects:
Here’s a link to a clip from Let It Be
And of course, the lyrics:
Two of us riding nowhere
Spending someone’s
Hard earned pay
Two of us Sunday driving
Not arriving
On our way back home
We’re on our way home
We’re on our way home
We’re going home
Two of us sending postcards
Writing letters
On my wall
You and me burning matches
Lifting latches
On our way back home
We’re on our way home
We’re on our way home
We’re going home
You and I have memories
Longer than the road that stretches out ahead
Two of us wearing raincoats
Standing so low
In the sun
You and me chasing paper
Getting nowhere
On our way back home
We’re on our way home
We’re on our way home
We’re going home
(Repeat bridge & last verse)