Wise Guys - Caribbean Breeze lyrics

CHORUS (x4) Palm trees in the place Melon in the race Bananas in a case Shades on my face Say what? (ha haha ha ha haha) Say… (ha haha ha ha haha) Say what? (ha haha ha ha haha ha… ha… ha) I got a plate of white rice, with peas on top Pop said Plantain be my crop, so I hopped on a plane to land o' sugar cane ‘cause I just had to know where my roots came from. (Hey-o!) Rum, Bermúdez, had me like coolin' In the shade with my straw hat, comin' back, (Phat!) Skin tone all tanned to black You can hear me then get back at the shack (Relax!) to the breeze of the Caribbean We could SCUBA dive, we could go sightseein' Feelin' like Rambo s**in' on a mango We could Lambada, we could just Tango. (Huh!) Piña colada, ‘cause every day's hotta Ripe avocado, pollo asado At the break o' day, you hear the song from the gallo Chillin' in the tropics, ain't nuttin' but flat broke CHORUS x4 I got a icy cold fruit shake Chillin' in a warm lake Feeding on green grapes Huggin' on a brown man Welcoming a phat tan Feeling like Tarzan Wear my jungle shorts Though much as I support (‘cause I) could relate to the fact of being broke Like the brakes that stop you from going forth The bright light blue sky got the reason, and I know why I just breeze him with a quick reply And exchange for his commodity for my currency I'm not your everyday tourist I came with the same courage that my father left with, (Uh.) And the pride that my mother gave him And the joy that the breeze brings, that make the birds sing And the leaves shake, I can't wait to go back to this paradise That's been so polite, (huh huh) I promise I'm right CHORUS x4 We in the heart of the forest, (Whuh?) A native's not a tourist, (Come on.) In a paradise, got a drink on ice (In my) deepest roots, and pa**ion is a fruit Clear blue skies and oceans, i always show the folk: (to the) To the flag I'm patriotic The girls are exotic Watch the way we drop it From New York to the tropics From green gra** Palm breaks, now the stone got stepped on The way to success yo I can't forget All my hard working people The blood-hungry ‘moquito' The Sally from the yard The quarry cab cars Sun, moon, the stars Must take us beyond But I'm down, down to Earth ‘cause I worship us So ladies first, (Uh.) With all due respect The sacred intellect That make me feel best (Ener-ener-ener-ener) Ener-gy from the Sun The cow-skin drums The dance and the tunes That make all people one CHORUS x3 MCs in the place Live in yo face Records in a crate New York is the state! (Uh.) Ooooooh, and I like it (Under the sun!)