Thursday, February 05, 2009
Cursed to be born
Beautiful, organd female
There's none that suffer more
She's the queen of the bees
That buzz in the bars
Fresh as a strawberry
And she always loved dancing
Cursed to be born
Beautiful, organd female
There's none that suffer more
Two girls in two nights
Got caught in the back of the alleyway
Fresh as strawberries
Two girls in two nights
When no one came out
Zipped up their clothes
And walked back on home
Cursed to be born
Beautifil, organd female
There's none that suffer more
Sappy pathetic little me
That was the girl I used to be
You had me on my knees
I'd trade you places any day
I'd never thought you could be that way
But you looked like me on Sunday
You came in with the breeze
On Sunday Morning
You sure have changed since yesterday
Without any warning
I thought I knew you
I thought I knew you
I thought I knew you well... so well
You're trying my shoes on for a change
They look so good but fit so strange
Out of fashion so I can complain
You came in with the breeze
On Sunday Morning
You sure have changed since yesterday
Without any warning
I thought I knew you
I thought I knew you
I thought I knew you well... so well
I know who I am, but who are you?
You're not looking like you used to
You're on the other side of the mirror
So nothing's looking quite as clear
Thank you, for turning on the light
Thank you, now you're the parasite
I didn't think you had it in you
And now, you're looking like I used to!
You came in with the breeze
On Sunday Morning
You sure have changed since yesterday
Without any warning
And you want me badly
You cannot have me
I thought I knew you
I've got a new view
I thought I knew you well...oh well
[Busta Rhymes]
Ok (ahh)
Yeahh (ahh)
Oh, we about to get it just a lil hot & sweaty in this mu'fucka (ooh, baby)
Ladies let's go (uhh)
Soldiers let's go (dolls)
Let me talk to y'all and just you know give you a little situation...
Listen (fellas)
[Busta Rhymes]
Ya see this shit get hot
Everytime I come through when I step up in the spot (are you ready)
Make the place sizzle like a summertime cookout
Prowl for the best chick
Yes I'm on the lookout (let's dance)
Slow bangin shorty like a belly dancer with it
Smell good, pretty skin, so gangsta with it (oh, baby)
No tricks only diamonds under my sleeve
Gimme tha number
But make sure you call before you leave
[Pussycat Dolls]
I know you like me (I know you like me)
I know you do (I know you do)
That's why whenever I come around
She's all over you
And I know you want it (I know you want it)
It's easy to see (it's easy to see)
And in the back of your mind
I know you should be fucking with me
[Chorus]
Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me
Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me
Don't cha
Don't cha
Don't you wish your girlfriend was raw like me
Don't you wish your girlfriend was fun like me
Don't cha
Don't cha
Fight the feeling (fight the feeling)
Leave it alone (leave it alone)
Cause if it ain't love, it just ain't enough
To leave a happy home (oh, oh)
Let's keep it friendly (let's keep it friendly)
You have to play fair (you have to play fair)
See, I don't care
But I know she ain't gon' wanna share (oh, oh)
Hmmmm....
[Chorus]
Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me (oh)
Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me (like me)
Don't cha - don't cha, baby
Don't cha - alright, sing
Don't you wish your girlfriend was raw like me (raw)
Don't you wish your girlfriend was fun like me (big thrills)
Don't cha (haah aah)
[Busta Rhymes]
Ok, I see how it's goin' down (ahh, don't cha)
Seems like shorty wanna little menage pop off or somethin, let's go
Well let me get straight to it
Every broad wan watch a nigga when I come through it
It's the god almighty, lookin all brand new
If shorty wanna jump in my ass then vanjewish
Lookin' at me all like she really won do it
Tryna put it on me till my balls black an blueish
Ya wanna play wit ah playa girl then play on
Strip out the channel
And leave the lingerie on
Watch me and I'mma watch you at the same time
Lookin at ya wan break my back
You the very reason why I keep a pack ah the Magnum
An wit the wagon hit chu in the back of tha magnum
For the record, don't think it was somethin you did
Shorty all on me cuz it's hard to resist the kid
I got a idea that's dope for y'all
As y'all could get cool so I could hit the both of y'all
(Hot!)
[Chorus]
Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me (oh)
Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me (like me)
Don't cha - don't cha, baby
Don't cha - alright, sing
Don't you wish your girlfriend was raw like me (raw)
Don't you wish your girlfriend was fun like me (big thrills)
Don't cha
Don't cha
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Saturday, December 13, 2008
By Dean Goodman
LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Bettie Page, one of America's most photographed pin-up girls during the 1950s, died in Los Angeles on Thursday from pneumonia, her agent said. She was 85.
Page was a ubiquitous sight during the 1950s, propelled to stardom when she posed for Playboy as Miss January 1955. Soon her image was gracing playing cards, record albums and bedroom posters across the country.
She stopped modeling in 1957, retreated from the public spotlight and turned to religion. She enjoyed a renaissance of sorts in the 1980s, as a new generation of fans became obsessed with her legacy.
Her agent, Mark Roesler, said Page was admitted to a Los Angeles-area hospital four weeks ago. She never regained consciousness after suffering a heart attack earlier this month.
With her dark bangs, alluring blue-gray eyes and wide smile, Page cultivated an innocent girl-next-door persona. The one-time school teacher was nice, but clearly also naughty. Some of her photos featured spanking and bondage.
"Bettie Page embodied the stereotypical wholesomeness of the Fifties and the hidden sexuality straining beneath the surface," authors Karen Essex and James L. Swanson wrote in their 1996 book "Bettie Page: The Life of a Pin-Up Legend."
Page professed to be mystified by all the attention, saying she never felt particularly attractive and had to wear a lot of makeup to cover up her large pores. After she found God, she was initially ashamed of having posed nude.
"(B)ut now most of the money I've got is because I posed in the nude," she told Playboy last year. "So I'm not ashamed of it now, but I still don't understand it."
Bettie Mae Page was born on April 22, 1923, in Nashville, one of six children. She and two sisters were sent to an orphanage after her father went to jail and her mother could not cope on her own. Page later described her father as "a sex fiend" who started sexually molesting her when she was 13.
Page, armed with an arts degree with Peabody College in Nashville, did her first modeling work in the 1940s after moving to San Francisco with the first of her three husbands. After they divorced in 1947, she pursued modeling in New York. Photos from a shoot with Miami photographer Bunny Yeager ended up in the pages of Playboy.
The layout featured Page winking at the camera wearing only a Santa hat as she decorated a Christmas tree. Playboy founder Hugh Hefner described it as "a milestone in the history of the magazine," which he had founded less than two years earlier.
Later in life, Page was furious that Yeager made a fortune from the photos and never compensated her.
Some American lawmakers were not as impressed with her modeling abilities. Page was served with a subpoena to appear before U.S. Senate investigators trying to discover a link between juvenile delinquency and pornography. Page never appeared. Soon after, she completely disappeared from the scene.
After two other brief marriages failed, Page battled acute schizophrenia beginning in the early 1970s. Her comeback gathered momentum with the 1991 movie "The Rocketeer," based on a comic book where the hero's girlfriend was Page. Fan clubs and websites proliferated, and Page made a good living signing memorabilia at conventions. On the rare occasions that she gave interviews, she insisted that she not be photographed.
Page had no children. There was no immediate information about funeral plans.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
