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Author Topic: Lets sing  (Read 76243 times)
The Metamorphosing Leon
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« Reply #75 on: October 12, 2005, 04:10:28 PM »

Ahh, when Greenday was good.
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Tynstar
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« Reply #76 on: October 12, 2005, 10:05:58 PM »

Quote
Ahh, when Greenday was good.



I dont remember that. When was that? Tongue
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Izret101
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« Reply #77 on: October 13, 2005, 03:56:34 PM »

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Gwen Stefani - Hollaback Girl

Uh huh, this my shit
All the girls stomp your feet like this

A few times I've been around that track
So it's not just gonna have been like that
Because I ain't no hollaback girl
I ain't no hollaback girl
[2x]

Oooh, this my shit, this my shit [4x]

I heard that you were talking shit
And you didn't think that I would hear it
People hear you talking like that, getting everybody fired up
So I'm ready to attack, gonna lead the pack
Gonna get a touchdown, gonna take you out
That's right, put your pom-poms down, getting everybody fired up

A few times I've been around that track
So it's not just gonna have been like that
Because I ain't no hollaback girl
I ain't no hollaback girl
[2x]

Oooh, this my shit, this my shit [4x]

So that's right dude, meet me at the bleachers
No principals, no student-teachers
All the boys want to be the winner, but there can only be one
So I'm gonna fight, gonna give it my all
Gonna make you fall, gonna sock it to you
That's right, I'm the last one standing, another one bites the dust

A few times I've been around that track
So it's not just gonna have been like that
Because I ain't no hollaback girl
I ain't no hollaback girl
[2x]

Oooh, this my shit, this my shit [4x]

Let me hear you say, this shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
[4x]

A few times I've been around that track
So it's not just gonna have been like that
Because I ain't no hollaback girl
I ain't no hollaback girl
[2x]

Oooh, this my shit, this my shit [4x]
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Izret101
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« Reply #78 on: October 13, 2005, 05:10:09 PM »

This is from the Burnout 3 Soundtrack one of the songs i really like on that game it grew on me big time.

The Matches - Audio Blood

Every friday at three
shadows escape from the factory.
If you can go to the show,
hurry up and get back to me.
Tonight we meet underground
where the air is thick like mud,
and the bands make noise
that we call audio blood.
Every weekend we're igniting
like chemical fires.
Youth centers fill with teens.
They fill with vampires.
Sweating in the dark we're freed
as the weight of the week
falls away with a thud.
Sweating in the dark we feed
on the forms in the light;
on the floor we're the flood.
We bleed, we bleed, we bleed
Audio blood.

And all through the week,
whispers follow the shadows down the halls.
Our handstamps fade,
and I cringe at the stupid names we're called.
Every weekend we are massing,
seeking sonic escape.
The shadows flood the floor
and start to take shape.

This is how we bleed in audio...
let down your skin,
let the wind blow through your veins.
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The Metamorphosing Leon
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« Reply #79 on: October 13, 2005, 05:16:12 PM »

Quote



I dont remember that. When was that? Tongue


I know, they suck. But it's when they were not what they are now, which was good.
Nimrod was like an ok song. EVERY TRACK ON THAT CD SOUNDED THE SAME! THEY WERE ALL THE  SAME SONG JUST WITH DIFFERENT WORDS!
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Zimbacca
Sorry you must have been boring me.
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« Reply #80 on: October 15, 2005, 12:39:01 AM »

Mad World

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
And their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very
Mad World
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
Made to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me, look right through me
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SFS
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« Reply #81 on: October 15, 2005, 12:57:57 AM »

Quote
Mad World

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
And their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very
Mad World
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
Made to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me, look right through me


Well played Smiley
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"It rains acid, one day the earth will cry from a stone
And you'll be lookin' at the world livin' inside of a dome
Comperized humanity living inside of a clone
This is the place where the unknown is living and real
Worm went to planet X and the seventh seal"

Immortal Technique
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« Reply #82 on: October 19, 2005, 12:14:53 PM »

Ballad of Buckethead

"who's this guitar-playing sonsa bitch?", is a question common asked.
On his head a bucket of chicken bones, on his face a plaster mask.
He's the bastard son of a preacher man, on the town he left a stain.
They made him live in a chicken house to try to and hide the shame.

He was born in a coop, raised in a cage. children fear him, critics rage.
He's half alive, he's half dead. folks just call him buckethead.

Farmers would torment him as he snuggled with the hens.
They'd hose him down with water, and steal his little friends.
Now late at night he'd sneak off to the graveyard all alone,
And play a soapbox guitar to the faces made of stone.

Buckethead found his freedom at the age of 17,
When he burned the chicked house down with a quart of gasoline.
He did puppet shows on corners and bought a real guitar,
And with the help of colonel sanders, he's bound to be a star.

He was born in a coop, raised in a cage. children fear him, critics rage.
He's half alive, he's half dead. folks just call him buckethead.
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NDiddy
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« Reply #83 on: October 19, 2005, 11:30:48 PM »

The Clash-Spanish bombs

Spanish songs in andalucía
The shooting sites in the days of '39
Oh, please, leave the ventana open
Federico lorca is dead and gone
Bullet holes in the cemetery walls
The black cars of the guardia civil
Spanish bombs on the costa rica
I'm flying in a dc 10 tonight

Chorus
Spanish bombs, yo te quiero infinito
Yo te quiero, oh mi corazón
Spanish bombs, yo te quiero infinito
Yo te quiero, oh mi corazón

Spanish weeks in my disco casino
The freedom fighters died upon the hill
They sang the red flag
They wore the black one
But after they died it was mockingbird hill
Back home the buses went up in flashes
The irish tomb was drenched in blood
Spanish bombs shatter the hotels
My señorita's rose was nipped in the bud

Chorus

The hillsides ring with free the people
Or can I hear the echo from the days of '39?
With trenches full of poets
The ragged army, fixin' bayonets to fight the other line
Spanish bombs rock the province
I'm hearing music from another time
Spanish bombs on the costa brava
I'm flying in on a dc 10 tonight
Spanish songs in andalucía, mandolina, oh mi corazón
Spanish songs in granada, oh mi corazón
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Izret101
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« Reply #84 on: October 20, 2005, 02:58:02 PM »

Yummy Down On This lyrics
Bloodhound Gang

Yummy down on yummy down on this down on
Yummy down on yummy down on this down on
Yummy down on yummy down on this down on
Yummy down on yummy down on this down on

Ouch it won't reach my mouth
If I could do it myself I'd probably never leave the house
But I can't so here's where you come in
Giving it "Diff'rent Strokes" just like Arnold Drummond
Hummin' hmm hmm good like Campbell's
And you'll handle the sack like the quarterback Randall
Cunningham like Joanie loves Chachi
They call him Ralph Mouth 'cause he's down on Potsie
Rocky chasing the chicken
Watch the plot thicken with the cock when your lickin'
Me like Apollo your Creed my Mission
You go down for the count I countdown ignition
Blast off you're a rocket scientist
A genius what I mean is you suck at this
So escargot 'cause my snail needs Frenchin'
You must be five stars cause my staff's at full attention

Yummy down on this down on this down on this
Yummy down on this down on this down on this
Yummy down on this down on this down on this
Yummy down on this down on this down on this

Yummy down on yummy down on this down on
Yummy down on yummy down on this down on
Yummy down on yummy down on this down on
Yummy down on yummy down on this down on

Dinner for one I know you got your reservations
Starvation like a Third World Nation
So do it for the children and I'll make a donation
My fly's in your eyes let me rise to the occasion
In my Underoos I tend to be brief
So when you're sinking your teeth deep into my beef
You can fondle but it's kind of like McDonald's realize it's
Just a Happy Meal so you can't Super Size it
Told to hold the pickle then you went and blew it
Gherkin off and the Special Sauce comes included
But you knew it did so concentrate like Tropicana
To eat a Chiquita you need to grow the banana
So can ya Bob like Dylan on my Peter like Criss
'Til it's Chubby like Checker c'mon baby do the twist
It's all in the wrist like table tennis
So beat me like Betty Crocker cake mix

Yummy down on this down on this down on this
Yummy down on this down on this down on this
Yummy down on this down on this down on this
Yummy down on this down on this down on this

Suck it suck it suck it suck it suck it suck it
Suck it suck it suck it suck it suck it suck it
Suck it suck it suck it suck it suck it suck it
Suck it suck it suck it suck it suck it suck it

If you were a Hindu I could aim for the dot

Yummy down on this
Yummy down on this

Yummy down on this throbbing pole of hot man chicken.
And feel free to wiggledunk those purple bulldog cheeks.
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NDiddy
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« Reply #85 on: October 28, 2005, 11:03:07 PM »

 Oh yeah, MC Hawking and DJ Doomsday,
kicking it with the hardcore beat,
to get you out your seat.
We be laying this down for PC Gamer in 2002.

Verse 1
GTA3's like the Sims to me,
a real life simulator 'cause that's where I be,
on the street, packing heat, car jacking, head cracking,
taking duckets from the pockets of the bourgeoisie.
In Liberty City, it's easy to score.
no one in this city locks their car door.
So I'm jacking every cheetah that I happen to see,
not looking like a dot, I'm kicking it 3D.

Then just to mix it up I jack an Esperanto,
uzi out the window spraying the spank ho's.
police take notice so I hit the gas,
and hit the Pay'n'Spray to get the cops off my ass.
Yeah, Liberty City, it's my virtual home,
you dis the LC, I'll drop a nine in your dome.
I got the PE pumping on the MP3,
Yo it's G to the T to the A to the 3.

Trash Talk
Yo Doomsday, you ever notice how the old ladies in this town,
never hesitate to throw down?
You knock one of them down they get right up again.
Those are some hardcore grandma's!

Verse 2
Sometimes I sit in my car and just listen to Laslo,
rock the chatterbox with the serious flow.
Then I gotta get getting while the getting's still good,
so I take a quick spin to 8-Balls in Harwood.
The car don't make it on account of mafiosos,
hood in flames, I'm hoofing past the po-po.
Sure it's so slow, still it appeals to Hawking,
LC be the only place where I be walking.

Taxi cab missions, got old fast,
if I want Crazy Taxi I'll dust-off my DreamCast.
I'm all about crime all the motherlovin time,
only pausing from my mayhem to bust a dope rhyme.
Driving scary like a crazed Hally Berry,
got a job to do and no time to tarry,
I got the PE pumping on the MP3,
Yo it's G to the T to the A to the 3.

Trash Talk
Oh yeah, that's right gta3.
It's about time somebody made a videogame out of my life.
Yo doom take us out of here.
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Zimbacca
Sorry you must have been boring me.
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« Reply #86 on: November 13, 2005, 03:19:31 PM »

Song: 'Merican
Band: Descendents

we flipped our finger to the king of england
stole our country from the indians
with god on our side and guns in our hands
we took it for our own
a nation dedicated to liberty
justice and equality
doesn't look that way to you
it doesn't look that way to me
the sickest joke i know

listen up man, i'll tell you who i am
just another stupid american
you don't wanna listen
you don't wanna understand
so finish up your drink and go home

i come from the land of ben franklin
otis redding, ellington
the country that i love
but it's a land of the slaves and the ku klux klan
haymarket riot and the great depression
don't get caught in vietnam
the sickest joke i know

listen up man, i'll tell you who i am
just another stupid american
you don't wanna listen
you don't wanna understand
so finish up your drink and go home

i'm proud and ashamed
every fourth of july
you got to know the truth
before you say that you got pride

listen up man, i'll tell you who i am
just another stupid american
you don't wanna listen
you don't wanna understand
so finish up your drink and go home

not the cops got taste 'cause the kids got guns
shrinks pushin' pills on everyone
cancer from the ocean
cancer from the sun
straight to hell we go

listen up man, i'll tell you who i am
just another stupid american
you don't wanna listen
you don't wanna understand
so finish up your drink and go home

listen up man, i'll tell you who i am
just another stupid american
you don't wanna listen
you don't wanna understand
so finish up your drink and go home
« Last Edit: November 13, 2005, 03:20:15 PM by freak_boy » Logged

Izret101
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« Reply #87 on: December 06, 2005, 09:40:14 AM »

Excellent Song
10 Years - Wasteland


Change my attempt good intentions

Crouched over
You were not there
Living in fear
But signs were not really that scarce
Obvious tears
But I will not
Hide you through this
I want you to help
And please see
The bleeding heart perched on my shirt

Die, withdraw
Hide in cold sweat
Quivering lips
Ignore remorse
Naming a kid, living wasteland
This time you've tried
All that you can turning you red

Change my attempt good intentions
Should I, could I
Here we are with your obsession
Should I, could I

Crowned hopeless
The article read living wasteland
This time you've tried

All that you can turning you red
but I will not
Hide you through this
I want you to help

Change my attempt good intentions
Should I, could I

Here we are with your obsession
Should I, could I

Heave the silver hollow sliver
Piercing through another victim
Turn and tremble be judgmental
Ignorant to all the symbols
Blind the face with beauty paste
Eventually you'll one day know

Change my attempt good intentions
Limbs tied, skin tight
Self inflicted his perdition

Should I, could I
Change my attempt good intentions
Should I, could I
Should I, could I
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Zimbacca
Sorry you must have been boring me.
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« Reply #88 on: December 06, 2005, 04:50:42 PM »

AGAINST ME!
Baby I'm An Anarchist

Through the best of times,
Through the worst of times,
Through Nixon and through Bush,
Do you remember '36?
We went our seperate ways.
You fought for Stalin.
I fought for freedom.
You believe in authority.
I believe in myself.
I'm a molotov cocktail.
You're Dom Perignon.
Baby, what's that confused look in your eyes?
What I'm trying to say is that
I burn down buildings
While you sit on a shelf inside of them.
You call the cops
On the looters and piethrowers.
They call it class war,
I call it co-conspirators.

'Cause baby, I'm an anarchist,
You're a spineless liberal.
We marched together for the eight-hour day
And held hands in the streets of Seattle,
But when it came time to throw bricks
Through that Starbucks window,
You left me all alone.

You watched in awe at the red,
White, and blue on the fourth of july.
While those fireworks were exploding,
I was burning that fucker
And stringing my black flag high,
Eating the peanuts
That the parties have tossed you
In the back seat of your father's new Ford.
You believe in the ballot,
Believe in reform.
You have faith in the elephant and jackass,
And to you, solidarity's a four-letter word.
We're all hypocrites,
But you're a patriot.
You thought I was only joking
When I screamed "Kill Whitey!"
At the top of my lungs
At the cops in their cars
And the men in their suits.
No, I won't take your hand
And marry the State.

'Cause baby, I'm an anarchist,
You're a spineless liberal.
We marched together for the eight-hour day
And held hands in the streets of Seattle,
But when it came time to throw bricks
Through that Starbucks window,
You left me all alone.
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Zimbacca
Sorry you must have been boring me.
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« Reply #89 on: December 07, 2005, 07:30:56 PM »

theme songs!

Welcome to Eltingville

Welcome to Eltingville!
We are the comic book and science fiction, horror, fantasy and roleplay club.
Maiden Protectors,
Super Collectors,
The Eltingville Club!

Welcome to Eltingville!
We'll spend most money
on Major Violence, Boogie Skull and Ultra Mummy!
There's nothing wrong with us. THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH US!
Toys, cars, games, models!
Toys, cars, games, movies!
Toys, cars, games, monsters!
ELTINGVILLE CLUB!


Captain Planet


"EARTH!"
"FIRE!"
"WIND!"
"WATER!"
"HEART!"

"Go Planet!"

"By your powers combined, I am Captain Planet!"

Captain Planet, he's our hero
Gonna take pollution down to zero

He's our powers magnified
And he's fighting on the planet's side

Captain Planet, he's our hero
Gonna take pollution down to zero

Gonna help him put asunder
Bad guys who like to loot and plunder

"You'll pay for this Captain Planet!"

We're the Planeteers
You can be one too
'Cause saving our planet is the thing to do!

Looting and polluting is not the way
Hear what Captain Planet has to say!

"The Power is Yours!"

Welcome to Eltingville: The Aquabats
Captain Planet: I have no idea.
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