| Busta Rhymes – Turn It Up Lyrics | 20 years ago |
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A literal translation: We sell drugs, everybody Please relax and open your mind, everyone Dance sexually with your entire posterior until you twist your waistline You all know the time Hello, can you feel the bass line? Make a lot of money And dance, feel the bassline So consistently genuine, Busta redefines. The good people know what is happening And it causes you to rewind (the song) I hope you are feeling alright. Watch me combine and intertwine The song we are playing makes you act against the rules We think nothing of Many different kinds of villain And react like an angry porcupine If you try to take what's mine. (note subjective disagreement we\mine) Pick up my black person's drug-taking paraphenelia In a specified location The car is tan and has blue head rests Let us hurry, there is no time to contemplate further We use many words and have the right rhythm and the flow has finesse We have many publications spreading love and happinesses The song is so fantastic that DJs scratch even our tests of it And we can make it even better Chorus: Turn it up, I want to hear it a high volume, just Turn it up, so we can enjoy it in the attic, baby Turn it up, we need to remove the roof, so just Turn it up, I need to raise the temperature, baby Verse 2: Hello. What is going on is a secret. Let's have sex. I never say that incorrectly. Please take off your underwear And I'll put an unspecified object in your spirit like the holy Kyron I have a most excellent song It is sweet like honey chicken dijon. Onto the next thing, Your body looks very strong I am watching your buttocks swing And hanging like a medallion Exercise, please, let me see you take up a large area of floor What are you asking for? Relax, for I am about to give you some more. Where is the off-license? I will create some metaphors for you to hear. The unperverted, good, very good stuff, you've not seen it before Hit the floor at speed, on your mark, get set, we will soon leave Light it quickly, chickens are breaking their necks Hello. We play to win It's a shame, since this is a sin. The temperature is high, it bubbles within your skin Everytime I perform or speak I caress the whole beach Just like a bodyguard called Les walks straight down the street We enjoy it Chorus Hello. Come on, just feel my temperature. Many attractive women are ready for black people who act bravely Relax, male friend, you're better off if you try to behave And spend money while those without are trying to save Be inconspicuous, I say so, my currency Is bought in on a stack of cheese by the castros Make clothes Or stay fashionable and chase prostitutes Equally soft lips and a straight nose Making money When we perform the paid show We get the money and leave, in a Range Rover Now we are making thousands And we name brands We make plans, change plans Then we expand across land Do it properly Hello, I said open sesame The recipe is a very good song. It's got to be. Hello, landscape. We arrange an entire shape And record a fashionable record Then I continue to scrape the sky Like blah!!!!!!!!(?) So good Chorus |
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| Manic Street Preachers – Faster Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| ^ to my nothing: this is probably a reference to richey's anorexia. | |
| Manic Street Preachers – Motorcycle Emptiness Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| My interpretation is that no matter how much you buy, you can't buy happiness. "Motorcycle emptiness" reminds me of the feeling you can get on a motorbike, like everything's passing around you and you're just sitting there. It's a bit like the book Zen and the Art of Motorycle Maintenance describes - you can retreat into your innermost thoughts while the world whizzes by, part of it yet detatched from it. | |
| Manic Street Preachers – Nat West-Barclays-Midlands-Lloyds Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| The black horse refers to the logo of one of the banks - I'm pretty sure it's Lloyds TSB. | |
| The Smiths – Cemetry Gates Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| I think it's a contrast between the big romantic poets, Keats and Yates, and Wilde, the king of wit. The person he's going to the cemetery with is romantic and charming, but Morrissey is witty and his romance isn't always perfect - see Unhappy Birthday or Girlfriend in a Coma. Therefore, while Keats and Yates are on their side with their blind and poetic romance, Wilde is on his making witty observations. | |
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