Real Pop Talk

Open letters from a girly pop culture junkie

Archive for the tag “song lyrics”

An open letter to Jason Derulo – re: Your lyrics, they is wack.

Dear Jay-sonn DeROOlo (yyyeah, J-J-J-JR!),

I only have one thing to say to you: “Much more than a Grammy award, that’s how much you mean to me.”

Wow. I’m just…just so flattered. I think.

“You could be my it girl, baby you the shit girl.”

Um. Thanks?

“I don’t want you to leave me, though you caught me cheating…when the roof caved in and the truth came out, I just didn’t know what to do, but when I become a star, we’ll be living so large, I’d do anything for you.”

Oh, okay, Jason. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were on your way to becoming rich and famous. I can definitely look past the fact that you slept around while I’m here trying to support your broke ass, definitely, because one day, you’ll have money.

I hope you realize from the above responses that I am a strong-willed, logical, and intelligent woman. Because of this, I feel as though it’s my duty not to like your music.

SO WHY CAN’T I STOP LISTENING TO IT?!

Begrudgingly a fan,

Linda

 

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These are the most insightful lyrics I have ever heard.

“I got a hangover, whoa.
I’ve been drinking too much for sure.
I got a hangover, whoa.
I got an empty cup, pour me some more.

So I can go until I blow up, eh.
And I can drink until I throw up, eh.
And I don’t ever ever want to grow up, eh.
I want to keep it going.

I got a little bit trashed last night, night.
I got a little bit wasted, yeah yeah.
I got a little bit mashed last night, night.
I got a little shitface-ted, yeah yeah.”

Listen. I am generally very tolerant of bad lyrics. VERY tolerant. I listen to Ke$ha. I think the chorus of Justin Bieber’s “Baby” is catchy. The only thing that even really bothers me about Rebecca Black’s “Friday” is when she says, “Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cere-uhl.”

But Taio Cruz. For real. Why? You can write party music. I’m all about the party music. But you’re not even singing about a pleasant party experience.

WHY are you so pleased with yourself for having a hangover? Last time I checked, hangovers involved pounding temples, upset stomachs, and the inability to get out of bed.
WHY do you want to drink until you throw up? That’s not attractive! That’s not fun! You’re definitely not getting any girls if you’re puking!
WHY did you get so mashed last night? You’re not a potato! [Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s British slang, right? Reminds me of “chundered.”]

Is this the music my generation will be remembered for?

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