Don't You Touch My Monkey — The Pryme Maytz

I wore my best. Purple satin, open chest. A man bought something sweet, Went sweet-talking all the rest. I raised my glass. He raised an eyebrow back. I asked him what he wanted. He said, “Love, it's just an act.” Buy me a drink. Doesn't mean you bought the rest. Don't you touch my monkey Your father taught you best Don't you touch my monkey Wearing the satin vest Oh no no no... It's beating against its chest They like the show. They like the way I dance. Another little drink— They call that a romance. He knows my drink. Doesn't know a thing I've said. Calls me “darling” from the doorway. My name will do instead. Coming late September, before the End of June Feeling all the decadence, what is wrong with you? Don't you touch my monkey Your father taught you best Don't you touch my monkey Wearing the satin vest Oh no no no... It's beating against its chest Pride on my chest. And the satin fits me beeeest.