Does anyone else find themselves getting embarrassed when listening to graphically sexual lyrics in pop songs?
Because I do.
I made this playlist on Spotify called Early Aughts Rap Music not too long ago and it’s really perfect for treadmill time. However, my face is often way redder than it should be and not because of physical exertion.
Dirty lyrics make me uncomfortable. Even when I’m listening by headphones, in treadmill solitude. They make me feel dirty. Like not offended, necessarily, but, like, voyeuristically dirty. Am I alone in this?
My principal conundrum, though: The songs are so damn catchy! Also, I need a good beat, and I know I run harder when Kanye tells me to.
Meanwhile, I’ve been starting to feel detrimentally naive lately. So in an effort to stop being such a prude here is my list of top 5 dirty-songs-that-totally-shocked-me-but-I-should-get-over-it.
Have you heard this lately, it brings me right back to 2003. I don’t remember in 2003 ever listening to the lyrics that intently, though (with the exception of “itsyurmfenimippetplanyadcomo”). At any rate, she a freak.
No, you may not play with my panty line.
What? What kind of sense does that even make anyway? Gross. This song is also very misogynistic so I struggle with that, especially because I’m using it as work-out motivation, which, I can say, I 100% do, so as to avoid being unattractive to the opposite sex. Health schmealth. That’s probably another blog post though: How Woman-Hating Pop Music Whipped My Weak-Ass-Woman Ass Into Shape. And other lows. By Carrie Stardust
Coming soon or never.
NO Way-O. I remember being at dance class doing kicks across the floor to this song. Well, to the RADIO EDIT of this song. Have you ever heard the real lyrics to this song, though? The one that decidedly does NOT say “put your arms around me, girl and your kisses on my face.” Oof.
Is there a metaphor I’m missing from this song? Or, like, is it just about sex? I really hate the word ”bush”, except when it comes to Kate.
Kill me, I just said “bush”.
Guys. This song is not even on my playlist, and I don’t think I’ve ever made it for a full-listen through before I get all squealy and have to turn it off. But you know which one it is.
You all know.
Honorable Mentions to anything by that dirty whore, Peaches.
Ultimately, I don’t know why the cultural and creative expression of other artists should make me feel embarrassed, but it does. I don’t like looking at Georgia O’Keefe paintings, either. I hope to get over this at some point.
Until then, I’ll stick to BOB by Outkast. Hands down best treadmill song ever, no shame required!