I long for the days when the only person I knew named Marvin was a little green sexually ambiguous (re: gay) alien forever wondering where the kaboom was. Oh and you know, the singer, too, who I know realize is the source of the room (re: old studio). Yeah, may his ghost haunt Drake for this whining that irks the hell out of me.
I was never one of those people who took issue with Drake’s emo rap. Anyone who has heard this man gush over Lil’ Wayne can tell he’s obviously a sensitive soul. Unfortunately, this song could drive Ralph Tresvant into a violent rage. Seriously, guy, who is she? What did she do? More importantly, can you give me her number so I can call her and help smooth this out for you.
I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right for you so you can make it right for my ears.
I say that because I’m tired of these kind of songs. Like, dude, is this why Rihanna dropped you after she topped you? This maudlin ass record makes the tracks from 808s and Heartbreaks seem like they have the energy of the I’m Bout It soundtrack by comparison.
Oddly enough, I do like JoJo’s cover of this song but much of that has to do with my yearning for her to do an R&B album. Everyone else’s cover garners the same response I give Drake’s song: Ick. Yawn. Cringe. Stop.
And yeah, boom, splat, ka-pow, too.
This video has only intensified that sentiment. I literally started frowning less than 30 seconds into this. Herman Munster Jr. seems like an exceptionally nice man. So nice that I don’t believe his abuse of the word bitch. C’mon, guy, stop trying to play that role. We all know you say three Hail Mary’s for each time you say “bitches” on wax as soon as you leave the booth. You ain’t got to lie to kick nor do you have to insert the word that often in a song that I thought was supposed to be all sentimental and shit.
I gather that’s supposed to help roughen up the song, but all it does is make him look like an even bigger sourpuss. I would think that all but makes him appear as sexy as condom chewed up by a chihuahua to many.
Also, how much longer are we to expect Drake to agonize over his fear of fame? I don’t understand why he hasn’t gotten over that yet. Please tell me that this won’t be going on for the rest of his career. If he doesn’t want it he can gladly Fed Ex it on over to me. That way I can book sessions with Trey Songz easier.
Even worse, I realize that this song is going to encourage a bunch of drunk dials in the middle of the night where people pour out their hearts to a bunch of people who don’t give a shit. Yes, that’s particularly healthy.
Look, if someone calls you in the middle night in some pseudo whiney face on some “please, baby, baby, please” shtick, do me a favor and hang up on their asses. When they call back tell them, “I heard Drake in the background. You ain’t slick!”
And then hang up again. I’ll let you decide if you want to answer the sober call.