what the &^%$* did she say?
What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’m 'a get, get, get, get, you drunk
get you love drunk off my hump.
What u gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I'm 'a gonna make you scream, make you scream
make you scream!
'Cuz of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
my lovely lady lumps
Check it out
What the bleeding hell is that dreck, you ask? It's MUSIC! It's POETRY! It's ARTISTIC CREATIVITY! YEAH!
Okay, it may or may not be poetry, but it is a song, and it is somebody's idea of creativity and art. Frankly, I would have titled it I'll Show You My Tits if You Buy Me Something Pretty instead of My Humps, but that's just me. Maybe there's a reason I'm not raking in millions of dollars for naming songs, eh?
Anyway.
I don't usually care what lyrics somebody chooses to write and/or perform. Personally, I think Eminem is astoundingly talented and I'll play the unedited versions of his songs at full volume in full listening distance of the Lemony Brood.
But My Humps? Not so much.
Now, if Fergie doesn't mind shaking her booty while signing my lovely lady lumps who am I to say anything? Go right on and objectify yourself, sweetie. They aren't my lumps.
(as an aside, it's good thing we're not talking about my lumps because, hello, goat-old lumps are scary, dude)
Fergie will have to forgive me, however, for changing the station on the XM radio whenever I hear her start going on about her lovely lady lumps. Lemony Child, in all her four-year-old glory is starting to sing along, and to be perfectly honest, I find this a bit more disturbing than the time Lemony Teen was a four-year-old in the back of the car singing along as Boys II Men harmonized about making love to you, like you want me to.
Hearing your four-year-old sing And I'll hold you tight, baby all through the night?
Not too scary.
Hearing your four-year-old sing Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky RIIIIIGHT?
Nightmare material.
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’m 'a get, get, get, get, you drunk
get you love drunk off my hump.
What u gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I'm 'a gonna make you scream, make you scream
make you scream!
'Cuz of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
my lovely lady lumps
Check it out
What the bleeding hell is that dreck, you ask? It's MUSIC! It's POETRY! It's ARTISTIC CREATIVITY! YEAH!
Okay, it may or may not be poetry, but it is a song, and it is somebody's idea of creativity and art. Frankly, I would have titled it I'll Show You My Tits if You Buy Me Something Pretty instead of My Humps, but that's just me. Maybe there's a reason I'm not raking in millions of dollars for naming songs, eh?
Anyway.
I don't usually care what lyrics somebody chooses to write and/or perform. Personally, I think Eminem is astoundingly talented and I'll play the unedited versions of his songs at full volume in full listening distance of the Lemony Brood.
But My Humps? Not so much.
Now, if Fergie doesn't mind shaking her booty while signing my lovely lady lumps who am I to say anything? Go right on and objectify yourself, sweetie. They aren't my lumps.
(as an aside, it's good thing we're not talking about my lumps because, hello, goat-old lumps are scary, dude)
Fergie will have to forgive me, however, for changing the station on the XM radio whenever I hear her start going on about her lovely lady lumps. Lemony Child, in all her four-year-old glory is starting to sing along, and to be perfectly honest, I find this a bit more disturbing than the time Lemony Teen was a four-year-old in the back of the car singing along as Boys II Men harmonized about making love to you, like you want me to.
Hearing your four-year-old sing And I'll hold you tight, baby all through the night?
Not too scary.
Hearing your four-year-old sing Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky RIIIIIGHT?
Nightmare material.
5 Comments:
This is the song that made me do a head blow up and ban the song from my car. Uh uh - - I will censor music here afterall. I explained this song was reducing women to people who want things bought for them and I found that offensive and off MY airwaves it went.
My ACLU card only covers so far.....
I see it's unanimous. We all hate this song. So why the (insert random cursing) is it on constantly?
I'm not even sure how you write a song that bad. There's no chords, no melody, just raw unadulterated innuendo.
I didn't even know you could have single entendres, much less build a whole song around them.
ACK! Sea's here! Quick! Use a word like "atrophy" or "portage" in a sentence!
;)
Okay, seriously, I tossed my ACLU card out the freaking window when that song hits my airwaves. All set with that, man.
I figure it's on all the time, Star Momma, because people like Lemony Teen SHRIEK, bounce, and refuse to let more reasonable people...like parents...push the little button on the XM thingy. I think the next time this happens I'll just let the LemonMobile crash through the guard rail and into Deep Dark Cold New England River that runs under the Interstate. It's better than sitting in traffic and having my ears assaulted.
You know, I told Lemony Teen the song would suck even if the lyrics weren't so, um, how do I say this nicely...distinctly ho-ish? Oh, there is no way to say 'you're a ho' nicely so I'm not even going to try.
I tried to portage my umbrage with Bush into my county races, but I fear my atrophy set in and I couldn't pull the lever to vote for the Libertarian afterall; Libertarians have such heavy baggage and I couldn't muscle up the strength to actively vote against the Cabal so I left that choice empty?
Cabal, atrophy and portage - - TOP THAT, Ms. Lemony :)
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