Thursday, December 02, 2004
G-G-G-G-G-G-G-Unit!
You guys.
Things are getting bad. "Wanna Get To Know You" has not yet left my head aided, in part, by certain people (Pasha!) who namedrop it and my own brain which has a habit of refusing to let certain songs go.
This could wind up being worse than the great Ja Rule/Ashanti terror of 2002. I had "Always On Time" stuck in my head for two weeks, hand to God. I'd wake up with it in my head, it would be in my head while I showered, ate, did homework, went to class, etc. It was awful, I think it's a testament to the strength of my character that I didn't commit suicide because of it.
But this G-Unit business seems to be on that level, if not eclipsing it, which is more disturbing than I care to comprehend. You see, while I slept last night, I had a dream and the song was in it. And then, while walking down the block this morning, I came close to singing it-out loud!-on the street. And right now, it is poisoning my mind and killing brain cells.
Because seriously, the song sucks. I know some of you, sadly, vibe the G-Unit business and dig Lloyd Banks, despite him being lame and having no flow of which to speak. However, you guys even have to admit that this is not their finest moment.
I'm lovin how you look in my eyes, swangin them hips when you pass
I'm visualizin my name tattooed on that ass baby
Wow.
I think we make a perfect couple, but you think I'm trouble
Maybe that's the reason you gave me the wrong number
That's a safe guess, yes.
Your toes painted, hair fixed all the time/And your Gucci boots the same color as mine
The G-Unit boys are metrosexual? Interesting.
Make a decision shorty, good thangs don't last long/Your girlfriend keeps showin me that thong
Well, that definitely makes me want to date you! And do girls still really crib their dating advice from the school of Monica Lewinsky?
Before I head home I'ma stop at your house and blow the horn/If you come outside you know it's on, holla at your boy
Suck on that, Shakespeare. You wish you could be so romantic!
Now bitches be frustrated with a baller, wonder why I don't call her/Maybe because I'm busy and she need someone to spoil her/It gets annoying, from time to time I gotta ignore her
Busy doing what, douche? Designing ugly sneakers and stabbing people?
I get her and wear her down, next door neighbors hear the sound/Pictures hittin the ground, just enough to hold us down/I'm stickin and movin, cruisin after the third round/Just lay back baby and let me drive you crazy
The most profoundly unsexy thing I've ever heard, outside of that Meg Ryan movie.
I admit I fell in love with her friend
Damn, this friend business again. Girl's got game.
And to make her feel special I let her call my by my government name
Bitch, your name is LLOYD. You should feel special that she didn't reject you on the grounds that you sound like you work for State Farm Insurance.
Her panties wet over fame, fell in love with my chain/I wonder if I wasn't an entertainer, would she remain?
Jay-Z tackled the subject of freeloaders already in "Can I Get A?" and he did it much better.
Surroundin me, houndin me, tryin to be my ON-LY/I'm not your boyfriend, I'm your HO-MEY
Sweet.
Don't know what fuck me up more, watchin her lick her lips/Or watchin her walk, she hypnotized me with her hips man
For the best way to a girl's heart is to be stalkerish.
Look, I'm legit now, I used to break laws/Now you can reap the benefits of world tours
You may be legit, Fitty, but you're still not cool.
You ain't got ta look like a model for me to adore you/All you gotta do is love me and be loyal
This is true, he did date Vivica A. Fox, proving that he has no standards. And then she wasn't loyal, talking about his son and stuff, so he dumped her. You don't mess with his kid, Viv. He bought the little boo a bullet proof vest, if that's not fatherly devotion, I don't know what is.
Don't indulge in my past, fuck what happened before you
Ah, yes, his infamous past. Getting shot nine times; as always, one too few.
C'mere, let me touch on you, I let you touch on me/Put my tongue on you, you put your tongue on me/Let me ride on you and you can ride on/We can do it all the night, we can have a baller night
Ew.
So, after reading those lyrics, you can see why my predicament is so tortuous and why it is so wrong to be singing this song. And not even so wrong that it's right, this is just wrong.
And! Also! I saw a rottweiler this morning. In addition to my issues with horses and donkeys, I get seriously twitchy around large dogs. It stems, like most of my phobias, from a childhood trauma that is terribly embarrassing but, as the G-Unit is making me lose my shame along with my sanity, I'll share it.
When I was but a young little thing, I was obsessed with The Wizard of Oz. And I bought myself a little blue jumper and ruby red slippers and I wore that outfit all the time, when not in nursery school. I also carried around a large basket with a stuffed dog in it-the dog, of course, being my Toto. Strange, but cute.
It was on one of these days that I was out and about in the yard, doing something, when my neighbor's rotweiller ran over.
And he grabbed Toto out of my basket.
And mauled him.
Right in front of me! It was one of the most traumatic experiences ever, I was depressed for days and I haven't trusted large dogs since.
The combination of these two experiences is rather terrifying, I feel somewhat Twighlight Zoney.
Mallory at 12/02/2004 10:43:00 AM