It's also a commentary on the state of contemporary music culture. However, the song isn't just about getting up and dancing. Monch's lyrics give instructions to various cities to get up, including Queens, Brooklyn, and the Bronx. The song begins with a compelling chant "Get the fuck up" and proceeds with a rough flow that urges people to let loose and move their bodies. The song "Simon Says" by Pharoahe Monch was released in 1999, and it has remained a staple hip-hop song since then. The Bronx is in the back shooting craps now, what's up? Throw your hands in the sky (buh-buh-buh-buh-buh) You holding up the wall then you missing the point This is for either or Rollies or Timex-eses Whether you're riding the train or a Lexus-es 'Cause I asked the girls to rub on their breast-eses Some might even say this song is sexist-es Slated to be the best, I must confess, the star made it If you tired of the same old everyday you will agree, I'm Heads give you beef, you put 'em in the mausoleumĪnd shit don't start pumping 'til after 12 PM Yeah, fuck it, I said rub on your titties (uh huh) Put your hands to the sky (buh-buh-buh-buh-buh)īrooklyn in the back shooting craps now, what's up? If you holding up the wall, then you missin' the point Rock, clock dollars, flip tips like a waiterīlock shots, style's greater, let my lyrics anoint I'm soon to motivate a room, control the game like Tomb Raider You sold platinum 'round the world, I sold wood in the hoodīut when I'm in the street and shit, it's all good Took my underground loot, without the gold I alleviated the pain with long-term goals Strayed from your original plan, you deviated You all up in ya Range and shit, inebriated (uh huh) Pharoahe fuckin' Monch, ain't a damn thing changed (uh) That act shitty in the midst of the calm, the witty New York City gritty committee pity the fool The 2004 live version repeats the title phrase around 100 times, which, if you ask me, is a bit effing much.Queens is in the back sipping 'gnac, y'all, what's up? We end where we began, on a note of potty-mouthed protest, as the Super Furry Animals loop one Steely Dan lyric into a galloping battle cry. John Cooper Clarke bowdlerised his poem Evidently Chickentown when he recorded it, substituting a "bloody" for every "fucking", but the point is the same: language as relentlessly ugly and impoverished as the environment it describes. Although Peaches' boldness is over-rated by people who have never heard Lil' Kim, Fuck the Pain Away is her best song, poised between self-empowerment and self-destruction.įinally, two monuments to repetition. The most powerful expletive of all - the one that rhymes with James Blunt - sounds doubly fierce coming from a woman pity the adulterous scoundrel who inspired Marianne Faithfull's toxic ire. More historically significant profanity courtesy of John Lennon: the stark, bitter delivery of "fucking peasants" - from a former Beatle, no less - still punches the gut. The Sex Pistols recorded their own version under the name Friggin' in the Riggin', but the howlingly bleak Bodies was the track that shocked and thrilled young purchasers of Never Mind the Bollocks, while announcing John Lydon as one of pop's champion swearers. Older still is Good Ship Venus, a collection of bawdy pirates' limericks revived on last year's Rogue's Gallery compilation. Posterity is indebted to whoever rescued Jackie Wilson and Lavern Baker's hilarously filthy private version of 1965 hit Think Twice from the studio floor. Where do you start with hip-hop? I've picked Pharoahe Monch's mighty Simon Says, on no account to be confused with the children's game. Spare a thought for the hapless Bruno Brookes, who once played the uncensored version on teatime Radio 1. Just as Eamon's Fuck It (I Don't Want You Back) nails the incoherent rage of a spurned teenager, Rage Against the Machine's "Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me," is the truest variety of rebel yell. In assessing good cussing, let's not underestimate the petulant and the juvenile.
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