Welcome to Target Practice where bad popular songs of the past and present get shot. IT’S MY 100th POST!!
Thank you, thank you. You’re a beautiful audience. One hundred posts for two years and eight months. That is a milestone for me. Doing that many posts, it can be easy for me to become repetitive and predictable. That’s why I always like to try new things in order to keep things fresh and exciting. If a TV show rehashes the same plots over and over again without any new variations, then it no longer becomes entertaining to watch and you start questioning why it’s still around *coughs* Simpsons *coughs*. That’s why when I do Target Practices, I always like to review songs that I’m not used to reviewing, something that either isn’t from the 2000s or from the Young Money camp (funny I’m saying this considering the song I’m going to review; still working on not being predictable). Anyways, let me ask you a question: what makes a song bad? This, of course, isn’t an easy question to answer because of two reasons. One, music is one of the most subjective forms of entertainment. I’ve said this before. What one person might find bad, others might find good. And two, there’s many different types of bad when it comes to music. Take, for example, Rebecca Black’s Friday and Brad Paisley and LL Cool J’s Accidental Racist. These are two of the most universally despised records of the past five years, but people hate them for different reasons. Friday is bad because of the aesthetics and vocals that are as pleasing to the ears as nails to the chalkboard, while Accidental Racist is bad because of its ignorantly botched message of racial unity. So there is no one single answer to the question I proposed. I’m gonna stop wasting your time with this preamble and get to today’s Target Practice victim. I named it the worst song of 2014 and the worst song that this particular artist has ever made. From Nicki Minaj, the biggest disappointment in rap music, this is Anaconda.
Let’s talk about this artwork first. When I first saw this image, it rose so many questions and comments from me. One, that G-string looks really uncomfortable. Two, WHAT ARE THOOOOOOOSE?! Three, doesn’t this look like the same pose from the cover to Lil Kim’s Hard Core album, only backwards? Four, this pose makes it look like she’s taking a dump. Possibly an unintentional metaphor for her music. Five, this image is obviously Photoshopped. And six, nice to see that Nicki Minaj has once again reduced herself to a sex object for drooling morons to go ga-ga over. And this was apparently “controversial.” Oh, yeah. A woman in a bikini showing off her ass. It’s not like images like that are constantly shoved into our faces. Please. Nicki is always doing this sexual stuff. This is pretty tame for her standards. The supposed outrage seemed too calculated, like extra publicity for the single. Now to the song itself.
My Anaconda don’t…
My Anaconda don’t…
My Anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns hun
You know your song fails when the best part of it comes from another song. And that wasn’t even the best part of that song.
Boy toy named Troy used to live in Detroit
Big dope dealer money, he was getting some coins
Was in shootouts with the law, but he live in a palace
Bought me Alexander McQueen, he was keeping me stylish
So Nicki Minaj is sleeping with a drug dealer named Troy from Detroit and he buys her designer name clothes. Umm, Nicki? Aren’t you worth millions? You can buy your own damn clothes, why are you letting somebody else do it for you? Aren’t you supposed to be an “independent woman who doesn’t need a man because she can do bad all by herself?”
Now that’s real, real, real,
Something’s wrong. I think this rapper is broken because it’s repeating words. Either that or this is just filler.
Gun in my purse, bitch I came dressed to kill
Who wanna go first? I had ’em pushing daffodils
I’m high as hell, I only took a half of pill
Nicki Minaj, ladies and gentlemen. Killing people for no good reason.
fan: Hey, Nicki…
fan (dying): I just… wanted an autograph.
*falls to the floor and dies*
Also, if you got high off half a pill, then you should get a new dealer because the one you have is clearly trying to kill you with some powerful shit.
I’m on some dumb shit
NAH, REALLY?! I never would’ve thought of that.
By the way, what he say?
He can tell I ain’t missing no meals
Come through and fuck ’em in my automobile
Let him eat it with his grills,
You let him eat you out with his grill on? ……. Ouch. That imagery is just painful.
He keep telling me to chill
He keep telling me it’s real, that he love my sex appeal
He said he don’t like ’em boney, he want something he can grab
So I pulled up in the Jag, and I hit ’em with the jab like…
Is she really doing the “dun-dun-dun” thing? It’s not 2010 anymore, Nicki. Why are you still doing things that are outdated as hell? Move the fuck on. I’m gonna skip the “chorus.” It’s not really a chorus as it is a bunch of Baby Got Back samples mushed together into a clusterfuck of noise. It’s a waste, really.
This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles
Dick bigger than a tower, I ain’t talking about Eiffel’s
Real country ass nigga, let me play with his rifle
Pussy put his ass to sleep, now he calling me NyQuil
So now she’s sleeping with someone named Michael who rides motorcycles and according to Nicki, had a dick like a tower. Oh, but you’re not talking about the Eiffel Tower, are you? Fooled me. What other towers were you talking about, Nicki, the Twin Towers? By now, if you couldn’t tell, this song is just Nicki bragging about her sexcapades with criminals. I didn’t give a shit when male rappers brag about fucking a hundred groupies and models, so why should I give a shit here?
Now that bang bang bang,
No, you didn’t. You did not just name dropped Bang Bang, that song you were featured on that was released in the same year as this pile of shit. That is just shameless whoring, not as much as the rest of this song.
I let him hit it ’cause he slang Cocaine
He toss my salad like his name Romaine
And when we done, I make him buy me Balmain
I’m on some dumb shit
So she lets Michael fuck because he’s a cocaine dealer. Well, there goes Rick Ross’ chances of hitting that. And just like with Troy, Nicki has Michael buy her expensive clothing. Ugh. I’m not gonna talk about the second-half of the verse since it’s the same as the previous verse with only one difference. Hell, the entire second verse is a rehash of the first with a couple of changes. After that, we get an extended version of the “chorus” and at this point, there’s no more new lyrics, which means I can finally end this… OH, FUCK ME SIDEWAYS!!
Yeah, he love this fat ass *annoying laughter*
Oh, Jesus. It’s that devilish laughter. I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!! Please tell me there’s no more of this. There’s more? FUCK!!
Yeah! This one is for my bitches with a fat ass in the fucking club
I said, “Where my fat ass big bitches in the club?”
Fuck them skinny bitches,
Fuck them skinny bitches in the club
I wanna see all the big fat ass bitches in the motherfucking club
Fuck you if you skinny bitches. What? Yeah. Ha-ha, ha…
Oh, goody. Just what we all needed, skinny shaming. And this is coming from someone who doesn’t even have an inch of fat on her and whatever fat is in her body has been replaced by silicon. Keeping it classy, Nicki. Real fucking classy. You wanna know something sad? There’s actually articles from people who says this song (and its video) is a pro-feminist piece. Like this one. And this one. And this one. And this one. *frustrated groan* Every time I see one of those articles, my head starts hurting from the stupidity leaking out of the reaches that they make. Thank God, this nightmare is finally over.
This song is a serpentine succubus of suckage. Do you see why I named this the number one worst song of 2014? There is nothing even remotely close to good about this sloppy piece of cow dung, no redeeming qualities at all. The beat is an example of some of the worse uses of samples since JR Rotem. It doesn’t do anything new or creative with Baby Got Back, it just plays a bunch of samples from the song. The lyrics are some of the worst I have ever seen from a Nicki Minaj song and that’s saying a lot. Nicki Minaj herself is at her most irritating and insufferable, which is highlighted in the outro where she rambles like some drunken moron while whoever was recording this didn’t bother stopping the track. Every millisecond of this record was designed to aggravate the piss outta me. Even worse are the apologists who reaches for every strawman defense of this shitstorm as a feminist piece. Look, I understand. I’m a guy, meaning I have no authority to tell women what’s empowering to them or not. They should be allowed to be empowered by whatever they want. I get that. But to say that this song is empowering to women is like saying that a Worldstar video of a bunch of tatted-up black dudes dressed as thugs throwing up gang signs and acting like buffoons is empowering to black people. NO, IT FUCKING ISN’T, YOU DINGUS!! This is not taking back Sir Mix-A-Lot’s song for women and it’s not reclaiming women’s sexuality. This is a record from a woman who is basically objectifying herself by portraying herself as a dumb bimbo who has sex with drug dealers and has them buy her designer brand clothing (even though she could buy her own shit) and in the end, she alienates every skinny woman in the world by saying “fuck skinny bitches,” and all of this is accompanied by a music video that’s nothing but sexual imagery and a bunch of half-naked women shaking their asses A.K.A. AMOST EVERY GODDAMN RAP MUSIC VIDEO OUT THERE and it was clearly made for anyone with a dick and a set of testicles to jack off to, even though we live in an age where anyone can access free pornography with a FUCKING GOOGLE SEARCH!! This is strip club music of the lowest common denominator and it does nothing but reinforce negative stereotypes of women and set them back 100 years. Anyone reading much farther than that into this raging hemorrhoid of music can get fucked by an anaconda-sized dick for hours. Dear Odin, this song pisses me off so much. Next Target Practice, we talk about 9/11.
SONGS OF THE WEEK
Poor Georgie-MC Lyte