Target Practice

Target Practice: Jeremih ft YG “Don’t Tell Em”

Target Practice

Welcome to Target Practice where bad popular songs of the past and present get shot. I was originally going to review Train’s Hey, Soul Sister, but I got nothing out of it and I wanted to talk about something else. So let’s talk about Jeremih instead. You know, the bland, personality-lacking R&B singer behind Birthday Sex, a cringe-worthy sex song that made birthdays less satisfying and educated us about how a climaxing sheep sounds, and Down On Me, the 50 Cent-featured Auto-Tune jerkfest that was more depressing than Gucci Mane’s career. You’d think that would be the last time we’ve heard from him, but no. Now he has a top 10 hit produced by one of my least favorite producers out right now, Mr. Not Ketchup. I don’t get music fans sometimes. Anyways, today’s Target Practice is that particular song which also features YG, that idiot behind Toot It & Boot It and My Nigga, Don’t Tell Em.

Rhythm is a dancer, I need a companion
Girl, I guess that must be you
Body like the summer, fucking like no other
Don’t you tell ’em what we do

You did not just quote Rhythm Is A Dancer, a song I’d rather be listening to right now. This is not going to be good. The whole concept of this song is just like a lot of modern rap/R&B songs, being in a club and trying to have sex with a woman. This time, Jeremih tells the girl not to tell anyone about it. That’s pretty stupid.

Don’t tell ’em
Don’t tell ’em
You ain’t even
Don’t tell ’em
Don’t tell ’em
You ain’t even
You ain’t even gotta tell ’em
Don’t you tell ’em
Don’t you tell ’em
You ain’t even
Don’t you tell ’em
Don’t you tell ’em
You ain’t even
You ain’t even gotta tell ’em
Don’t tell ’em
Don’t tell ’em

Repetition, my old nemesis. Why do you keep telling her to not tell? You sound like she just caught you doing something embarrassing and you don’t want anyone to know. Christ, dude. You’re trying to have sex. Why wouldn’t you want anyone to know? Unless you can’t get your Jimmy up, then feel free to be embarrassed.

Know you say you down with it
Won’t tell ’em how you hit the ground with it

So you don’t want anyone to know about this girl’s dancing. You have issues, dude. Seriously. This ain’t Step Up.

Girl, you know I’m from Chicago,
I act a fool Bobby Brown with it


Looks like Jeremih has some catching up to do.

In it, nobody take me out though
You got gifts bring ’em down to the south pole

Dude, you’re taking this WAY too seriously.

Marathon doll gon’ puttin’ miles
Don’t you worry ’bout it might gon’ work it out

So you think you’ll last long in bed, huh? I bet she doesn’t believe you. If you do manage to last long, that means you took too much blue pills and she’s probably faking it.

Only it’s you got me feeling like this
Oh why, why, why, why
Loving while grabbing the rhythm of your hips
That’s right, right, right, right, right

Oh, so she’s the only one who got you feeling something. I bet you say that to every woman you have a one-night stand with.

Dely fool, fool with it
But you know I know what to do with it

……….. what?

I get it that girl I’m talking laps
It’s if you got to pull with it

……….. huh?

And since she ain’t with your best friend
Then let me be your diamond

Okay, wait. Who the hell is he talking to? It sounds like he’s just rambling about some bullshit to some different person. I think it must be the alcohol taking over.

You know you feeling how your boy press play
Just keep that ass re-winding

In other words, shake your ass, but watch yourself. I’m bored already. Let’s check over to YG to see if he does any better.

Throw it up 9-3-4, 8-6-1-6
I gotta missed call from your bitch
She been plotting on me for a cool minute
She wanna’ suck my dick, and I’m cool with it
I like her in the shower, when it’s wet and fresh
It’s that twitter pussy I met on the internet
On my late-night thirsty, ’cause it was late-night and I was thirsty
Girl, I been to that county girl, I ain’t telling
Handcuff me to the bed, girl, it ain’t no bailing
I keep a stack of hundreds like I keep a secret
If anything you were just exploring, you wasn’t cheating
She got my number stored under fake names
Her nigga think she faithful, but she running game
YOLO, so take me out these Polos
And we can fuck from Uno to Ocho

Ugh. This verse is terrible. It actually contradicts the whole song. This is supposed to be a song about not telling anyone about your sexcapades, yet YG here is bragging to some other dude about fucking his girl. Another case of the guest feature not being aware of the song topic, so they just talk about whatever they’re familiar with. This is what happened with Maroon 5 and Wiz Khalifa when they made Payphone. I doubt these guys were even in the same studio when this song was made, they probably just emailed each other. This is why I think it’s better for collaborating artists to be in the same studio together so they have a perfect understanding of what they’re making so crap like this doesn’t become the final result.

This song is a can of douchbaggery best left untold. It’s badly-constructed, repetitive, and just boring. These lyrics look like they were written by a drunk, horny asshole. Jeremih once again does nothing to stand out amongst the other R&B douchebags of the world and YG is just incompetence in a nutshell. All the praise this guy gets are not deserving at all, he just sucks, period. Don’t even get me started on the production. It’s indistinguishable from the other turds Mustard shits out, nothing different or unique. This whole song is nothing more than a waste of time, it doesn’t do anything new, it’s not very creative, it’s just filler, four and a half minutes of filler. Next Target Practice, I’ve tackled R&B, pop, and hip-hop, so the obvious logical step is to review songs from the county and rock charts.