Black Eyed Peas, I'm disappointed in you.
While I am not normally a fan of "popular music", I must confess there are times when these guys get me jumpin'. I mean, tell me you don't dance like a crazy person every time "Let's Get Retarded" comes on. And what about the catchy yet poignant "Where is the Love"? 2003's Elephunk certainly showed us that this quirky and hip foursome is capable of more than fly beats and stylish threads.
So imagine my surprise when, during a rare moment of television viewing, I came across the absolute horror that is "My Humps". If you've never heard this abomination, I envy you completely, and urge you to steer clear of all forms of media until it goes away. Should the video come on unexpectedly, grab the nearest heavy object, hurl it at your TV set, and wash your eyes out with any available detergents. You may also want to contact Poison Control.
If you have been exposed to this aural maelstrom, then you know that the Devil does in fact exist, and he is manifest in this 3 minutes and 49 seconds of pure evil.
Because I do not wish to spread this cacophanous plague, I will only cut and past the lyrics below, and not link to an audio sample. I realize you may be wondering what Hell sounds like, but trust me, this curiosity can only lead to tears. I don't think you want your family to find you dead in your room because you commited ipod seppuku in an attempt to cleanse your immortal soul.
That said, proceed at your own risk:
While I am not normally a fan of "popular music", I must confess there are times when these guys get me jumpin'. I mean, tell me you don't dance like a crazy person every time "Let's Get Retarded" comes on. And what about the catchy yet poignant "Where is the Love"? 2003's Elephunk certainly showed us that this quirky and hip foursome is capable of more than fly beats and stylish threads.
So imagine my surprise when, during a rare moment of television viewing, I came across the absolute horror that is "My Humps". If you've never heard this abomination, I envy you completely, and urge you to steer clear of all forms of media until it goes away. Should the video come on unexpectedly, grab the nearest heavy object, hurl it at your TV set, and wash your eyes out with any available detergents. You may also want to contact Poison Control.
If you have been exposed to this aural maelstrom, then you know that the Devil does in fact exist, and he is manifest in this 3 minutes and 49 seconds of pure evil.
Because I do not wish to spread this cacophanous plague, I will only cut and past the lyrics below, and not link to an audio sample. I realize you may be wondering what Hell sounds like, but trust me, this curiosity can only lead to tears. I don't think you want your family to find you dead in your room because you commited ipod seppuku in an attempt to cleanse your immortal soul.
That said, proceed at your own risk:
"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 ice-ys.
Dolce & Gabbana, Fendi and then Donna
Karen, they be sharin’ All their money got me wearin’
Fly gearrr but I ain’t askin, They say they love my ass ‘n,
Se7en Jeans, True Religion, I say no, but they keep givin’
So I keep on takin’ And no I ain’t fakin’
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, 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
Lets 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 u 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 x3
In the back and in the front.
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, 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, on me, on me.
