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Christopher R. Weingarten's Posts

No. 32: Smash Mouth, “I Wan’na Be Like You (The Monkey Song)”

Baloo would be rolling over in his grave if he heard this.

Human soul patch Smash Mouth rose to fame in the ’90s as the living ruination of nth-wave ska. They had the exasperating vibe of a braying white doofus in a porkpie hat demanding that you should totally hang out with him, but none of the pesky ska-punk trappings like “energy” or “excitement.” Somehow the malicious pricks who run movies saw a lot of wholesomeness potential in the band that made Fush Yu Mang, and started recruiting Smash Mouth to submit their shitty songs—or worse, original music—to every straight-to-punchline movie on the planet. Here’s how this awesome decade went for Smash Mouth:

Movie Studio: We’re making a movie about a talking dog that travels into the future to solve—
Smash Mouth: Shut the fuck up. Where do we sign?

Oh and they cover songs too. In 1998, these clowns released a dumbed-down, unfunky version of War’s “Why Can’t We Be Friends,” and it quickly became apparent that they were willing to mix a warm-ginger-ale version of any song. How about “Can’t Get Enough Of You Baby?” That could be annoying enough for Can’t Hardly Wait. How about covering the Monkees? Surely Shrek could shake his fat green ass to that! A Steely Dan cover? Throw it in Me, Myself And Irene!

Movie Studio: How about a Beatles song, guys? Wouldn’t that be beautiful? You guys could buffoon it up. And then we could jam it in this piece of shit live-action Cat In The Hat movie we’re making
Smash Mouth: Ooh, we can defile two beloved institutions at once! Synergy! We love it!
Movie Studio: We knew you would.
Smash Mouth: We’ll shit on an American flag too if you want.
Movie Studio: That won’t be necessary, Smash Mouth.

So when Disney came calling for the not-at-all-long-awaited Jungle Book 2, Smash Mouth got cracking on their most stupid track to date: a chilled-out cover of the 1967 film’s classic track “I Wan’na Be Like You.” Surely, the bong-sucking baby geniuses behind “It ain’t no joke, I’d like to buy the world a toke” could improve on Louis Fucking Prima, right?

If “improving” means slowing down the original’s hyperkinetic swing rhythm into a weed-soaked Crazy Town rap-rock daze—and turning an exciting song into the sound of a couch potato picking Cheeto dust off his crotch—then job well done, Smash Mouth. The wack rap part switches to a doofy pop-punk chorus so fast, you’d think King Louie stopped wanting to be human and actually wanted to be just like Bowling For Soup. And there’s also a Dick Dale guitar solo, some wacky scratch solos, and the bass player’s jazz runs. This mess has many disparate elements, it almost ruined Jungle Book 2 for me!

06. Smash Mouth – I Wanna Be Like You [YouTube]
Smash Mouth [MySpace]
F2K: Idolator Counts Down The 50 Worst Songs Of The ’00s, One By Ear-Splitting One

No. 33: Heidi Montag, “Higher”

The Hills have whys.

I’ll assume that that you, as a loyal Idolator fan, are not a mouth-breathing dipshit who secretly wishes People used fewer words with two syllables. I’ll assume you’re not a dead-eyed blank slate who would refresh TMZ 200 times a day, if only the warm, relentless waterfall of drool that would result could manage to stay in your agape mouth and not drip onto your laptop’s trackpad in cheerless slime puddles, rendering it useless. No, that’s not you. That’s not you at all.

So, I guess I’ll have to explain who Heidi Montag is.

Heidi Montag is the “star” of MTV’s “reality” “entertainment” program The Hills, which peels back the curtain on the dull relationship drama and inconsequential feuds of awful Los Angeles famesuckers. (I’m not 16 years old, so I’ve only seen some ads for it that showed some tanned ladies and blonde bohunks struggling to read things off cue cards and being hella sad at their zero-th world problems.) Montag was also on I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out Of Here, which leads me to conclude that she is not only a celebrity, but a person who will eat bugs for money.

In 2007 she reportedly signed a one-song contract with Warner Music Group. But fuck the man! Heidi is punk rock! D.I.Y.! She couldn’t wait for the machine to give her image the molding and shaping it desperately needed—so she self-released her first single and video.

“Higher” starts with a bunch of lightning-bolt zaps, presumably to tell the audience that this Frankenstein monster of bad ideas from the early ‘90s is alive. She sings “I’m only going higher, higher/I’m gonna take it higher, higher,” which would be like some Blue Angels shit if a) it wasn’t on some ninth-tier Timbaland ripoff beat with goofy autotune b) this song had any chance of propelling her music career beyond “’Numa Numa’-style Internet meme.” The bridge, where she just starts yelling “Higher! Higher! Higher!” is the kicker—as the notes get increasingly high, she gets increasingly out of tune. Spread your wings and fly, people! Why are you all so afraid to spread your wings and fly?

And of course there’s the hilarious video, in which she rolls around in the sand, showing off her ribs and hip bones. It was filmed by her equally useless husband Spencer Pratt with a camcorder, boom box, two takes, and what he admits was “20 minutes.” The Internet had the completely understandable reaction of “GUUUUUUHHHHHHHH.”

Heidi told Us about her reaction to the vicious but totally reasonable things people wrote about “Higher” on the ol’ Interweb: “I just started sobbing uncontrollably… I cried myself to sleep that first night after my video came out. I just couldn’t understand why people I didn’t even know felt the need to be so cruel and hurtful toward me. I am just a 21-year-old from a small town in Colorado trying to follow her dreams.”

It’s probably because your dreams amount to not much more than “be famous at any cost,” and your video proved you don’t have a molecule of talent to back any of it up. But to be fair, Colorado is a nice place!

Heidi Montag – “Higher” [YouTube]
Heidi Montag [Twitter]
F2K: Idolator Counts Down The 50 Worst Songs Of The ’00s, One By Ear-Splitting One

No. 36: Lady Sovereign, “Food Play”

George Costanza gets the rap song he always wanted.

When British rapper Lady Sovereign broke in 2005, the last thing she wanted to be was a sex symbol—she constantly referred to herself as a “midget,” and had more ways to say “fuck you” than an Eskimo has to say “snow.” Hell, even Jay-Z was sold by her wacky, snarky personality—and that was back when he was co-signing Rihanna instead of Cheesecake Drake!

By the time her second album Jigsaw rolled around in 2009, Lady Sov had been exposed to the electro Ebola that’s killing hip-hop and currently turning the pop landscape into a stagnant puddle of sunglasses-at-night neon diarrhea. She apologized for all the bratty behavior that made her interesting, and replaced all her rapping with what my brain tells me is singing but my ears tell me is screeching tires. But her most misguided step came with the syrupy slow jam “Food Play,” a five-fucking-minute dry kiss dedicated to the grossest fetish there is. If she’s joking about having whatever’s lurking in the fridge poured all over her, the joke is awful. If she’s serious, and actually gets turned on by the sight of Bac-Os, then I just don’t know what to do. Maybe send her to R. Kelly, who is generally smoother at this whole “Sex In The Kitchen” thing, because lines like “the way you munch your Quarter Pounder / Oh my, the way you chew that cheese, you sleaze” go beyond sickening and into terrifying “phone sex with Weird Al” territory.

Her microphone is set to “Dan Deacon Ewok Noise” (veerrrry sexy!) and her rhymes about licking her fingers and fucking on dirty dishes are set to “Make me want to fucking vomit.” I better be careful not to puke though, lest I inspire her next song “Roman Shower.”

Though if you’re American, you can learn a thing or two about British culture from “Food Play.” “Twiglets” are popular British snacks that apparently taste like Marmite—which we all know is the sultriest of all completely revolting tastes. “Cherry Pips” are British candy known for their sweet cherry flavor, as well as their resemblance to Lady Sovereign’s nipples. And finally, “sexy” is British slang for “I forgot how to rap.”

Lady Sovereign – Food Play [YouTube]
Lady Sovereign [Official site]
F2K: Idolator Counts Down The 50 Worst Songs Of The ’00s, One By Ear-Splitting One

No. 38: Say Anything, “Got Your Money”

This is the last time we’re gonna take down a rock band for mishandling a rap song, we promise.

The ’00s were the decade of the ironic hip-hop song, an irrefutably hilarious-to-dipshits conceit used by everyone from F2K favorites Dynamite Hack to MC Stephen Hawking to that totally hilars brohammer from your freshman dorm who borrowed your laundry basket all the time and then freestyled that funny rap about laundry baskets, remember that? It was almost enough to make us want to listen to the practically limitless amount of actual rap records that still exist somewhere on Earth.

Los Angeles “indie” (read: self-indulgent art-fucks) “punk” (read: practically bleeding with cliché) band Say Anything took the powerful step of pushing “ironic” into “completely disingenuous” with their cover of Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s 1999 track “Got Your Money.” The song is from Punk Goes Crunk, an album so worthless that it doesn’t even improve on something called Yo! Indie Rock Raps. (That was the original version of the comp, which Immortal Records promptly aborted when they realized that multiple instances of pants-pissing guyliner bands making booger-picky faces to Bone Thugs was a seven-layer burrito of puerile.)

When Immortal dropped this steaming turd onto a MySpace page in 2007, the supporting image juxtaposed Say Anything frontlump Max Bemis with—we are not kidding—Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s mug shot. Somehow, the song is even less tasteful. At no point in its rubber-faced buffoonery do you get the impression that Bemis even enjoys O.D.B.’s music, rap music in general, or anything that isn’t his own band’s insufferable star-bellied sneech tirades. For starters, I’m not even sure Say Anything plays on it—the backing track consists mostly of keyboard farts. Bemis sings ODB’s lyrics like doing so is a fucking chore, like it’s the worst thing humanly possible to be on an ironic rap cover that’s gonna be passed around the Warped Tour message board like a brown bag of glue in a Hardee’s parking lot. And you know what? It actually may be the worst thing in the world. The only solution I can think of is not doing every single thing your record label tells you.

I can’t even open the can of worms about how Bemis annoyingly yells “N-WORD!!!” in place of ODB’s actual n-words. Also he name-checks Cisco Adler. I’m not well-versed in whatever MySpace cuddle parties these L.A. scene leeches were having together circa 2007, so I can’t be certain if it’s a shout-out or a diss or whatever. But I do pray that this is the last time someone writes “Cisco Adler” on the Internet.

Got Your Money $ (cover) – Say Anything – PUNK GOES CRUNK! [YouTube]
Say Anything [Official site]
F2K: Idolator Counts Down The 50 Worst Songs Of The ’00s, One By Ear-Splitting One

No. 40: Ozzy Osbourne, Tony Iommi, and the Wu-Tang Clan, “For Heaven’s Sake 2000”

At least when Limp Bizkit made rap-metal, they had a vague understanding of what “rap” was.

To capitalize off the downtuned wasteland of wallet-chained Neanderthals with creative facial hair and awkward b-boy stances, venerable hip-hop institution Loud Records released the nearly meritless Loud Rocks in 2000. “Yippee,” exclaimed exactly nobody when this an album of rapcore collabos, remixes, remakes and just-plain-wrongness was released. “Finally Big Pun got the Shootyz Groove treatment he deserved!” To make the shittiest song on an album that included Sugar Ray, Crazy Town, and Finger Eleven is a rare honor, and one reached by the Prince Of Dorkness himself.

Now, Ozzy Osbourne was no stranger to the rap music by 2000. His collabos with DMX (on the 1998 South Park tie-in Chef Aid) and Busta Rhymes (the “Iron Man” remake “This Means War!!”) were more goofy fun than dreadful mistakes. Hell, everyone from the Beastie Boys to Sir-Mix-A-Lot had been jacking Black Sabbath riffs since the mid-’80s, and Sharon probably sued the living shit out of all of them and used the money to buy a Pomeranian. Even Loud Records’ own Beatnuts borrowed Sab’s “Wicked World” for their classic “Reign Of The Tec,” which would have been an easy and fun and smart collabo—but asking someone to have foresight while putting together something called Loud Rocks is probably waaaay too much to ask.

Enter the Wu-Tang. This cut-and-paste tape-edit hack job is so jarring and clumsy, it makes Negativland sound like smooth jazz. But you have to forgive producer Bob Marlette, since he apparently wasn’t given any acappellas or drum tracks or anything to use. At all. This is a “collaboration” like leprosy is a collaboration with your skin, with Wu-Tang’s involvement little more than their collecting royalties on a copy of Wu-Tang Forever some kid probably sold to a CD Warehouse in 1998. So basically you have 30 seconds of a Wu-Tang record you already own, a full-on pause, and then a really fucking loud Ozzy and Tony Iommi playing a completely dogshit moronic chorus. And then the Wu record again, but really quietly and sadly just playing by itself with an out-of-tune Cypress Hill noises on top of it. Loud rocks!

Nothing hits the awkwardness on the head better than than Ozzy’s chorus: “I’m just a poor little white boy showing my respect.” It’s like even Ozzy knows this is an uneasy, awful, regrettable moment for all involved, so he’s doing everything short of singing, “I’m sorry, Wu-Tang Clan, for smearing my incontinent prattle all over your awesome song.” And the worst part is, this is only like No. 359 on a list of ways Ozzy has embarrassed himself this decade.

Ozzy w/ Tony Iommi& Wu-Tang Clan-For Heaven’s Sake 2000 [YouTube]
Loud Rocks [Amazon]
F2K: Idolator Counts Down The 50 Worst Songs Of The ’00s, One By Ear-Splitting One

No. 42: 3 Doors Down, “Kryptonite”

And the award for most harrowingly extended metaphor goes to…

3 Doors Down! This band predated, yet somehow out-awfuled, the faux-emo sad-bastard macho chest thumps of Puddle Of Mudd, Stone Sour, Breaking Benjamin, and Daughtry. They are pretty much the worst thing to come out of Mississippi since racism, and their biggest hit, 2000’s “Kryptonite,” bridged the gap between post-Seven Mary Three lite-beer grunge and the constipated douchery of Nickelback.

“Kryptonite” was written by 3DD singer Brad Arnold from the perspective of a 15-year-old sitting in math class—which makes sense since the lyrics are maybe one step up in maturity from “Milk, Milk Lemonade.” He wails in its chorus, “If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?”—underneath those words’ overt sappiness is a pukeworthy mix of bragging that he’s “unhinged” and bragging that some girl thinks he’s God’s gift. He will “Keep you by my side with my Superhuman might.” He adds the word “Kryptonite” in there too. The metaphor couldn’t be more stretched unless he closed with “I’m torn like Mr. Mxyzptlk between the two dimensions of the Multiverse, yeeahhhh.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this in the five billion times you’ve heard this song, but Arnold never says exactly what his “Kryptonite” actually is! It’s like a Choose Your Own Adventure novel! Except it’s two pages long and it always ends with me throwing up.

We’ll let the genius himself “explain” the lyrics:

That song, seems like it’s really just kind of like asking a question. Its question is kind of a strange one. It’s not just asking, “If I fall down, will you be there for me?” Because it’s easy to be there for someone when they’re down. But it’s not always easy to be there for somebody when they’re doing good. And that’s the question it’s asking. It’s like, “If I go crazy, will you still call me Superman?” It’s asking, “If I’m down, will you still be there for me?” But at the same time, “If I’m alive and well, will you be there holding my hand?” That’s kind of asking, “If I’m doing good, will you be there for me? Will you not be jealous of me?” That’s the basic question that song’s asking, and maybe throughout the years of singing that song, I might have come up with more meanings for it than it actually might have originally had.

Thanks for clearing that up, dude! Beyond his dream-journal sentimentality, Arnold also played the egregiously overplayed drums, adding a skipping beat that sounds like what a five-year-old might imagine “swing music” would be. They’re called tom-toms, doofus. Use them.

3 Doors Down – Kryptonite [Dailymotion]
3 Doors Down [Official site]
3 Doors Down Frontman Brad Arnold [SongFacts.com]
F2K: Idolator Counts Down The 50 Worst Songs Of The ’00s, One By Ear-Splitting One

No. 44: Aaron Carter, “America A O”

I think everyone remembers 9-11 the same. The shock of the first impression, the haunting images on TV, and the lingering question—“How will this all affect Aaron Carter?”

Cuddly pop troll Carter, who rose to fame during the fallow period between Hanson and Lizzie McGuire, was essentially the musical version of Poochie: A rapping, shiny-suited, catchphrase machine who could have only come from the twisted, syphilitic mind of Lou Pearlman. “People love these damn Backstreet Boys—does one of them have a younger brother we can tart up?”

Carter recorded more than Jandek throughout the early part of the decade to keep up with the pixie-stick-addled attention spans of the pre-teens and pedophiles who made up his fanbase. Songs came down the ol’ poop-pipe, each more irredeemable than the next: the nauseating hip-hop cover of “I Want Candy”; the Dennis The Menace shit-eating-grin of “Aaron’s Party (Come Get It)”; the shrill Fresh Prince knock-off “That’s How I Beat Shaq”; and the suuuuuuuper-fucking-creepy growth spurt “Not Too Young, Not Too Old,” where the now-13-year-old hornball begs a girl to show him some “body” in the backseat, only to—no shit—ditch her to battle a bully over prowess on rollerblades. Eventually, Carter created a perfectly drawn Venn Diagram of noxiousness by teaming with the Baha Men for the frozen-Margarita-puke anthem “Summertime.”

But worst of all was the late-career, jingoistic, funky-fresh ode to the red, white and blue, “America A O.” As far as I can tell, the “A O” doesn’t actually stand for anything. (It’s pronounced “ayo,” new jacks.) With a fake Clipse beat, the song was so cornball and classless that it made Toby Keith’s “The Angry American” sound like it was performed by Kelsey Grammer in a top hat and monocle. “Troubled times bring about troubled vibes,” Carter says, deftly referring to our harrowing year of panic, paranoia and in-fighting as “vibes.” He adds, “I chill you out, baby, let me clear your mind.” Why didn’t we just send Aaron Carter to chillax the mellow of Bin Laden or Saddam or the Lizard People or whoever? Dude already beat Shaq once!

Then Carter drops a totally suspicious, “No matter what they say, I’ll be livin’ here anyway!” which basically makes us wonder who exactly was telling him to leave. Was it the Taliban? The American left? Drake and Josh?

This last part isn’t Aaron (or America’s) fault, but cracked me up anyway. Four different lyric Web sites (incorrectly) list the second verse as: “Everybody come together, make it half-black, white, Spanish, Chinese…” I’m pretty sure that means that Carter’s idea for world harmony would be to have everyone ejaculate in a big bucket and make a new race of awesome hybrid people. And they gave Obama the Nobel Peace Prize?! Carter in 2010! His parents are out of town, let’s party!

Aaron Carter – “America A.O.” [YouTube]
Aaron Carter [MySpace]
F2K: Idolator Counts Down The 50 Worst Songs Of The ’00s, One By Ear-Splitting One

No. 46: Dynamite Hack, “Boyz-N-The-Hood”

The hilarious juxtaposition of a stiff white person and—can it be?—rap music?! Happy 30th anniversary, awful joke that never ceases to make me cringe!

Texas rock-radio blip Dynamite Hack decided to dip their tender toes in the “wacky cover song” sweepstakes in 2000, when they performed Eazy-E’s classic “Boyz-N-The-Hood.” To call it a one-note gag would be a disservice to both notes and gags. If it were a note, it would be the final note in the Price Is Right “sad trombone” tune. Also it would not be played by a trombonist, but literally farted out of the sphincter of a just-hanged Saddam Hussein, the morose poot representing his twitching body’s last involuntary movement.

Here’s a little play I wrote about how this song was born:

Dynamite Hack: Hey, we have a great album for you! It’s called Superfast! It’s got 15 rocking tracks! It sounds like [Ed. note: the author of this piece has no clue what Dynamite Hack’s Superfast sounds like. Probably Harvey Danger or something.] Please pay attention to it and our band, as we are important people worthy of your time and publicity budget!

Music Industry: Go away, you mugs! I’m busy counting all this money that will never go away because I am so smart.

Rock music fans (singing quietly to themselves): Gimme your heart, make it real orelsfuddedabdah

Dynamite Hack: No, wait! let me tell you about the single! You know that old gangsta rap song “Boyz-N-The-Hood”? Well we do an ironic, drab cover of it that emphasizes our wacky whiteness!

Music Industry: Adorable! You guys do know we have like a hundred Limp Bizkits and Kid Rocks and the Rage Against The Machines who are pretty much showing that an entire generation of kids was raised on hip-hop, take it pretty seriously, and can make commercially viable music without reducing it into a pathetic joke that went out with Joe Piscopo, right?

Dynamite Hack: Uh…

Music Industry: And this Eminem guy is set to sell like 10 bagillion records and he’s whiter than this cartoonishly large pile of cocaine I’m about to snort to prove that I, the all-powerful music industry, am invincible.

Dynamite Hack: B-but…

Music Industry: You clowns are gonna waste my time with “wacky white rapper” shit? Don’t you know that we can sell white kids real rappers? Maybe go outside and listen to any high school kid’s car stereo. We deaded this joke-rap shit in the Barney Rubble days! I’ve got Eminem ready to top every sales and critical chart in the land, and you’re bringing me Mel Brooks’ “It’s Good To Be The King, Part 2?” Get the fuck out of my office!

Dynamite Hack: We don’t know what to say.

Music Industry: Hahaha, just kidding boys! We’re shameless, we’ll put out anything! Now who wants to play on Jimmy and Doug’s Farmclub, the awesomest TV show in the land and coolest record label that everyone will love forever and ever?

Rock music fans: Hooray!


But the biggest sin of Dynamite Hack’s “Boyz-N-The Hood” is not its intentionally dreariness, or its lame punchline, or the band members’ constant rifling through their invisible backpacks. It’s that the song is pointless. Gangsta rap is already funny, geniuses! That’s why it’s awesome! Ice Cube wrote hilarious, timeless, awesome material and Eazy-E had perfect comic timing with his peerless nasal inflection. Sure, N.W.A. reflected a gritty view of life in South Central that wasn’t reported in the news. But, lines like “I looked at my car and said ‘Oh brother!’ / I’ll throw it in the gutter and go buy another”? That’s a good joke, pure and simple. Dynamite Hack retelling it is like Dane Cook doing a Richard Pryor bit word-for-word.

Dynamite Hack – Boyz In The Hood [YouTube]
Dynamite Hack [MySpace]
F2K: Idolator Counts Down The 50 Worst Songs Of The ’00s, One By Ear-Splitting One

No. 48: The Moldy Peaches, “Who’s Got The Crack?”

The Moldy Peaches were somehow lumped into those “return of New York rock” puff pieces at the turn of the decade, despite the fact that they rocked about as hard as the fluid in Grandma’s goiter. The booger-eating moron brainchild of the two of the most grating people on the planet, the Moldy Peaches were the equivalent of a seventh-grader from gifted class screeching “Cheese monkey!” at bullies until they were too sad and confused to give him the beating he so clearly deserved.

Oh yeah, remember how those kids said “crack” a lot too. Crack’s funny, right? Haha. You know, like on crack. Yeah. Hahaha. Crack. Oh man, “Panama Jack.” British people loved this as much as they loved other awesome things from the decade, like the Darkness and the Iraq War. Some sample lyrics from this gem: “I am a goat / In a moat / With a boat.”

I’m not some old cynic who can’t understand the appeal of childhood nostalgia as a way to channel the old, good, innocent times. But when will people realize this shit just reveals more about how most people are just painfully uncreative adults?

The Moldy Peaches – Who’s Got The Crack? [YouTube]
The Moldy Peaches [Official site]
F2K: Idolator Counts Down The 50 Worst Songs Of The ’00s, One By Ear-Splitting One

No. 50: brokeNCYDE, “Bree Bree”

It’s hard to believe that New Mexico “crunkcore” crew brokeNCYDE actually exists outside of YouTube links that doughy, saddo Broken Social Scene fans with superiority complexes send to each other to convince themselves that they are smarter than a 10th grader. And it’s even harder to believe brokeNCYDE didn’t come fully formed out of the bowels of MySpace as a combination of friend-stacking fashionistas and scene-kid crypto-irony, ready to convince your little sister that it’s still more fun to take pictures of a show with a cell phone than actually watch it.

brokeNCYDE had growing pains just like any band. Take “Bree Bree,” from 2008’s self-released BC-13—recorded back in the days before they had a better grasp of beats and before they realized it was probably a bad idea to be saying the n-word on their records. To explain this to anyone older than 17, “Bree Bree” is the piggie vocal noise that a few “deathcore” bands in the mid-’00s used to squeak out—an affectation they quickly abandoned once it became an internet punchline with in the span of a week. brokeNCYDE are goofballs (or completely fucking clueless), so they not only continued to bree proudly towards the end of the decade, but even named their giant pigsuit mascot (!) Bree Bree. Besides eating a big runny scoop of “Bree,” they get “freaky with sluts,” wear ice on their neck and say that—ugh, ugh, ugh—they “need a project chick.” Bands like brokeNCYDE and electro-doofus earthstains like 3OH!3 are essentially excuses for rich white kids to play dress-up with the most sexist and materialistic elements of hip-hop—pretty much a minstrel show in crooked haircuts.

brokeNCYDE – “Bree Bree” [YouTube]
brokeNCYDE [MySpace]
F2K: Idolator Counts Down The 50 Worst Songs Of The ’00s, One By Ear-Splitting One

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