April 22nd, 2001
|09:49 pm - a bit of poppy joy|
I was tired of my lady
We'd been together too long
Like a worn-out recording
Of a favorite song
So while she lay there sleeping
I read the paper in bed
And in the personal columns
There was this letter I read
"If you like Pina Coladas
And getting caught in the rain
If you're not into yoga
If you have half a brain
If you'd like making love at midnight
In the dunes on the Cape
Then I'm the love that you've looked for
Write to me and escape."
I didn't think about my lady
I know that sounds kind of mean
But me and my old lady
Have fallen into the same dull routine
So I wrote to the paper
Took out a personal ad
And though I'm nobody's poet
I thought it wasn't half bad
"Yes I like Pina Coladas
And getting caught in the rain
I'm not much into health food
I am into champagne
I've got to meet you by tomorrow noon
And cut through all this red-tape
At a bar called O'Malley's
Where we'll plan our escape."
So I waited with high hopes
And she walked in the place
I knew her smile in an instant
I knew the curve of her face
It was my own lovely lady
And she said, "Oh it's you."
Then we laughed for a moment
And I said, "I never knew.
That you like Pina Coladas
Getting caught in the rain
And the feel of the ocean
And the taste of champagne
If you like making love at midnight
In the dunes of the Cape
You're the lady I've looked for
Come with me and escape."
yay!! happy endings..
and now, in searching for the above lyrics online, i found this, which i share with you, my loyal readers:
Where're my niggers with the big dicks? -Ahh
Where're my niggers with the hot whips? -Ahh
Where're my niggers living better?
We want Barettas and Amarettas, butter leathers and mad cheddar.
(Ayo Pun, I got you baby)
We play the front not the back, when there's beef I attack
Grab the guns and start lighting
Ya'll the bitch niggers behind cars scared to death like "yo, who fighting?"
How the fuck you teaching me I ain't got no obedience
Ya'll are made of shit I'm the thug's ingredients
And for my niggers I peel like fucked up paint jobs
Cover your block and put holes in you like old blankets
Fuck a bitch use a sock and wipe my nut what?
Run in your spot and use a Glock to get my cut what?
Smack you in public and embarrass you slut what?
Put you on punishment the same way I do to my son
And the only bullets by my stomach be the clip from my gun
And when my gun busts it's over so close the curtains
My silencer's like ch, ch, ch like birds was chirping
I like Boricuas ya know that Sheik be freaky
I put coke in their peepee then stuff the bras
Put some coke in the bras that look like coconuts
That's what's up don't have Sheik's click clack this up
Disload the back pack her bitch ass back me up
You know double R and Terror Squad niggers want they cut.
I'm well know like Al Capone, full blown like Tone Montana
In the zone sitting on chrome stoned sipping on Champana
Rolling ganja up in Bible paper
A high that will take us through the eyes of Christ, John, Elijah, Jacob
I make the kind of green that hustler's dream
Busting out that custard cream
Piper cause I'm piped up with the mustard team
Plus the queen Fort Knox and hearts
King of medallions Monty Guard
Even Italians see my battalion prop the broad
I got the squad over qualified pulling over Karl Kani
Range Rover tilted three wilted hydraulic slide
Spark the Live in the crowd ripping trough housings
Like the Wu do in Shaolin
John Blazing on a pound of buddha and all the mami chulas,
They want to ride on my Honda scooter
You know the red one from the video
But really though she ain't coming and she ain't running the
Disrespect the Don word's bond I'm gonna shoot ya
We can get it on maricon hijo'de gran puta
Who you fucking' wit?
Bitch ass nigger you ain't running' up on shit
Talking' like you gonna bust yo clip
Nigger you ain't no fucking threat
You talk a lot but you ain't never realized that if you walk that block
Cock that Glock, think I'm pussy oh shit man! Big Punisher's off his rocker
What you got? Beef wit' me? Aight then papi, Sheik's with me
Thought you cats were gonna creep on me
without some type of an injury.
I see coward in yours, what you up in my eyes?
Big dick between mine, What the fuck between your thighs?
Pussy, If I shoot, are you gonna shoot back?
I don't think so, your man's the thug you ride piggy-back
You're the one that passed the gat, told your man to bust that
You ain't making no money, you're a broke-ass cat
And once these pop, cops bring the chalk
and the mop to get the rest of you off the sidewalk. what!
not quite so pleasant as the original, i don't think, but he likes cheddar so he can't be all bad. right?
np: Rupert Holmes - The Pina Colada Song (Escape)