Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Monkey Shine, artist - Pumpkinhead. Date of issue: 23.08.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Monkey Shine |
| «Look, have any of you heard of The Army of the 12 Monkeys? |
| They, they paint this |
| They, stencil this on the sides of buildings everywhere |
| Have you seen this?» |
| «Mr. |
| Cole?» |
| «Have you seen this?» |
| «Why don’t you just take your time |
| And try to explain' this whole thing from the beginning.» |
| I’m tired of hearin' about your theoretical skills |
| Like underground was a miracle pill, like you lyrically ill |
| You could get offered a deal for three quarters a mill |
| And still suck like you underwater, breathin' through gills |
| You enter every battle tryna get a few kills |
| Get a few thrills and can’t write a song that’ll sell a few mills |
| You could join Cypress Hill and never «B-Real.» |
| Better to chill |
| The Plague spreadin' will increase your medical bills |
| You worthless (hey). |
| We above the clouds and beneath the surface |
| Any state, city, borough, town where CD’s get purchased |
| Even if we re-word this, these words’ll leave you nervous |
| Don’t ask, don’t tell, faggot, or you’ll be asked to leave the service |
| It’s The Plague man, beatin' us is dead like a graveyard |
| Don’t get your head chopped off like «Braveheart» |
| The 12 Monkey Army, move like a bunch of zombies on Harleys |
| We the Angels of apocalypse, not Charlie’s |
| I’m the type to beat down a car thief |
| With my son’s car seat, and stop his heartbeat (b-boom, b-boom) |
| Y’all don’t want beef—y'all all weak. |
| We twelve deep |
| Night of the creeps, we patrol your streets |
| Don’t make me blam your team up—you ain’t tough! |
| You a Warrior Princess like Xena with C-cups |
| R&B diva on this beat—I bat clean up |
| And got black kids jumpin' like the cast of «Sarafina!» |
| 12 Monkeys is the clique, biohazard’s the symbol |
| Y’all fools ain’t nimble, your rhymes is simple |
| Don’t Erick Sermon your career, it’s flyin' out the window |
| How many ways to end you, offend you? |
| Quadruple, six million, reptilian |
| Cold-blooded chameleons hangin' from the ceilin' |
| I paralyze myself, just to kill you with no feelin' |
| Eel skin scaly, move like Hailey’s Comet |
| Through the projects, flying objects |
| In a cockpit with Davy Crockett rockets |
| Cock and bust it, double-barrel musket |
| That could cut down a grizzly to the size of a Teddy Ruxpin |
| Uhh, Blitz, yo |
| Lightin' in, I strike in the wind, I strike and I win |
| A mic and some Henn' and I’ll strike on a whim |
| Ya hype man hyper' than you and I’m hyper' than him |
| Brooklyn belongs to us, I got a right to defend |
| I’m terrific with the freestyle in spite of the pen |
| You hear it freestyled, go home, and write it again |
| That’s when I go right past the writin' and go right to your chin |
| Nose, eyes, swell up, develop, bruising and tightening skin |
| You might be a Mighty Mouse but fightin' mightier men |
| We ride in custom choppers with twins, you bikin' on Schwinns |
| We got custom twin choppers that could chop off your limbs |
| This the beginnin' for us, for you a frightenin' end |
| Plizzle! |
| If the beat’s perfection, I’m speech injectin' |
| With inflection to make men reach erection |
| We’re detecting all wannabes, haters, and yes-men |
| Spread quick, dead shit, kill 'em off from infection |
| It’s not just an expression sayin' we’re Lethal Weapons |
| Plus there’s still Pack, Tone, Stan, Seed, and Session |
| Give your man drugs, get cops to arrest him |
| With Gang green boys in blue is your only protection, c’mon |
| Watch out now! |
| It’s so tragic how I add another cadaver quick |
| You’d think I’m on some magic abracadabra shit |
| Half of you scatter, half of you rappers attract to it |
| Like mag-a-nets. |
| Don’t have the strength to smash my elaborate lab |
| Within my labyrinth—The Plague! |
| Collaborative narratives assassinate you characters |
| Even the baddest kids disparage when I carry 'em |
| Like Passion of Nazareth, it’s so embarrassin' |
| So amateur, low caliber, no stamina |
| Too often awful off and on camera |
| Before my primates get irate |
| You better peel ‘cause we hungry like seven plus five apes |
| «Y'all don’t want beef, we twelve deep, y’all all weak» — Pumpkinhead |
| «The 12 Monkey Army» — Pumpkinhead |
| «Assassinate you characters» — Wild Child |
| «The Plague spreadin' will increase your medical bills, you worthless» — GMS |
| «Kill 'em off from infection» — Kameel-Yen |
| «And fallin' victim to The Plague» — Wyclef Jean |
| «Brooklyn belongs to us, I got a right to defend» — Blitzkrieg |
| «12 Monkeys is the clique, biohazard’s the symbol» — Pumpkinhead |
| «just the beginnin' for us, for you a frightenin' end» — Blitzkrieg |
| Rosario Dawson, you know you’re my boo (my boo) |
| I saw «Alexander» and «Kids», I’m fallin' for youuuu |
| And I know tomorrow, you’ll still be the same |
| Cause you got some big ass jugs, girl don’t even change cause |
| Eeeee-veryyyyy day, I think of your boobs in my face |
| Put 'em on the glass and make 'em shake, with a smile |
| Take time to tell me (to tell me) you’ll really care |
| And we can sip this bottle, togetherrrrrr |
| We can drink this Henny (Henny) forever |
| Foreeeeeeeeeeeeverrrrr… touchin' your boobs |