I’m one of those guys who almost never actually hears the lyrics to the music that’s playing constantly. Then somebody covers the song in a beautiful-but-ridiculous way, and I finally clue to them.
Example: Tori Amos’ cover of Smells Like Teen Spirit.
Now I hear Alanis’ interpretation of The Black Eyed Peas My Humps, and I realize that, while not meaningless, it’s on par with Lene Alexandra’s current single. Does it make me old to say that bad grammar in lyrics hinders my understanding of them? Here, take a look at the lyrics for Alanis’ version:
I drive these brothers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these ices.
Dolce & Gabbana,
Fendi and NaDonna
Karan, they be sharin’
All their money got me wearin’ fly
My love, my love, my love, my love
You love my lady lumps,
My hump, my hump, my hump,
My humps they got you,
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.
What you gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’m gonna make, make, make, make you scream
Make you scream, make you scream.
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.
You can look but you can’t touch it,
If you touch it I’ma start some drama,
You don’t want no drama,
No, no drama, no, no, no drama
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump.
My lovely lady lumps
My lovely lady lumps
She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me.
She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin’ all your money on me, up on me, on me.
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 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.
I wonder if Coverville knows about this? Yep. (Via.)