A crisp autumn wind has blown across the East Coast, reminding me that my blog has lain dormant since the summer — specifically, when I decided to compare and contrast breakfast sandwich offerings.
I’ve been swinging between feeling uninspired and mentally berating myself for not even attempting to write. So, after scratching my ass for a topic to write about, I fell back on one of my old standbys: listening to a song on repeat for an hour and recording my thoughts in real time with each listen.
I pulled up the first song on one of my playlists, Chris Brown’s “Loyal (West Coast Version).” Different versions of the song each have a featured vocalist alongside Chris Brown and Lil Wayne. The East Coast rendition spotlights French Montana, while the West Coast has the legendary Too $hort making a memorable appearance. Given fact that I’ve already pummeled my eardrums with repeat listenings of “Bad Medicine” by Bon Jovi and Vin Diesel’s Quaran-times banger, “Feel Like I Do,”for a similar experiment, I figured I could do a whole helluva lot worse.
Lil Wayne’s dreads may have gone to shit, but he’s still one of the best in the game today. Take your mumble rap and suck it. This dude is high octane, dispensing wisdom with every line.
And say what you want about Chris Brown, the dude’s voice is fucking smooth: “But you came in this bitch with your man / That’s a no-no, girl.” I mean, he’s not wrong. If you’re going to be a gold-digging trollop (it’s not slut-shaming if you say “trollop”), don’t bring your main guy to the club when you’re trolling for a sugar daddy. That’s just common sense, damnit.
Can I tell you how refreshing it is to hear a song that doesn’t sound like the musical equivalent of Dramamine? I love my mope-rock as much as any self-loathing middle-aged woman who drinks wine and hangs out with her stuffed animal on a Friday night, but hearing something that’s got more pop and fizz than Alka Seltzer make my nipples hard. Hell, not like that’s too difficult to do these days. Show me a picture of something with a pulse and I’m ready to ride a bull at the county fair. *sigh* Perimenopause is a treat.
“No high school sweetheart… Hella Instagram likes, but you ain’t pretty… BITCH!” Damn, Too $hort sure is salty. But relatable. Maybe he’s Face-stalking someone he used to date / have feelings for / fap to and is passing judgement. I think we can all respect that.
I love how emphatically Chris Brown and whomever is doing backup vocals scream “Drugs!” after the line, “She wanna do drugs.”
As upbeat and bubbly as this song is and how hard the beat slaps, there’s an undercurrent of tragedy in “Loyal.” No matter how much dough a dude drops on a chick, she still has a roving eye and can easily be bought and paid for by someone with a fat wad of cash. Whether you’ve dated for decades or are in the madly passionate stages of a new relationship, disloyal hoes will trade your ass in like a ’86 Buick Skylark for a new BMW.
I’m fixated on Lil Wayne’s verse. He knows the score. He’s not above plowing a broad who’s ready to go heels to Jesus. Yet, at the same time, he’s warning legions of listeners to proceed with caution and understand that some women are easily tempted to stray with promises of designer handbags and a sizable schlong.
“I get bread / I get head / In that order.” Clearly, Too $hort has his priorities straight. I’d love to see this guy’s to-do list.
I am digging how the song fades out. You get Too $hort amping you up with his featured West Coast spot before winding down at the end. For a repetitive loop of music and beats, “Loyal” really keeps you in the moment.
“I wasn’t born last night / I know these hoes ain’t right …. I’m the shit.” I appreciate the confidence levels of Lil Wayne.
“I don’t fuck with broke bitches.” Right on, Chris. That’s how you get your heart broken.
“This bitch is pimpin’… And I bet your bottom dollar she gonna cheat.” This is an astute observation of the transactional nature of relationships in the modern era. You can place a gentleman or gentlewoman’s wager that the other party may engage in infidelity in exchange for material goods or the intangible nature of temporary validation. Lil Wayne, Chris Brown, et. al could likely write a collegiate economics thesis on this shit.
“She wanna fuck all the rappers.” That’s a bold statement, sir. However, that’s also a rather industrious hoe. Or a “304,” as the kids say. (See, you turn your phone or calculator upside down and the numerical sequence “304” turns into the word “hoe.” Don’t say you didn’t learn anything from this post.)
It was a wise choice to have Lil Wayne’s verse kick off the song. For a song with just a repeating loop of electronic beats and synth, it’s evident that quite a bit of attention was paid to structure — whose verse goes where, backing vocal harmonies, and how they work together to tell a story. Or at least impart a message. Said message being, “these hoes ain’t loyal.”
In celebration of getting past the halfway mark of this experiment, I decided to dance around my living room to this track and scarf some fresh-from-the-oven sugar cookies whilst dancing.
“I done did everything but trust these hoes.” Is that a double negative? Is that a sly grammatical admission that, behind the unmitigated swagger of Lil Wayne sounding as if he’s been the puppet master behind these hoes, that he may have, at least once, trusted a hoe and found himself in the position of the predator falling prey? Hey, it’s cool, man. We’ve all been there. We can’t all be winners.
“Turned into a wussy / 24-7, he been eatin’ that pussy.” Does engaging in cunnilingus make one less masculine? Is it truly a show of macho bravado to eschew nibbling at the clam, just demanding she slam her mouth around your wiener? If so, you may want to think about why said “hoe” may not be “loyal.” Any dude considerate enough to chow box and make a feast of it certainly is a rare find. As much as I can agree that, yes, “these hoes ain’t loyal,” you can certainly up your chances of fidelity if you’re thoughtful enough to a.) find the clitoris without a map and b.) apply for Tuna Town citizenship.
“Women on women / Lickin’ them titties.” Umm… Dude. I know you’ve imparted some hard-won wisdom previously. But perhaps you might consider that women may best know what other women want. While I do understand the plight of dudes who feel as if they’ve been unfortunately duped, if you intend to keep a woman around as more than a fuck n’ chuck, the key to loyalty is understanding their needs and what they want.
If not, well…. Your bitch ass gets what it deserves.
I could really go for a cup of tea right now. I should have one with those sugar cookies I consumed during my eighth listen of this song. If ever there was a song to sip a cup of Earl Grey to — pinky extended while reclined in a wing back chair — it would be Chris Brown’s treatise on the disloyalty of common harlots. Right now, I’m picturing Alastair Cooke sitting in his study, clad in a tweed blazer, introducing the Masterpiece Theatre (with an “e” at the end) dramatization of “Loyal (West Coast Version).”
Yeah. That’s the move.
I wonder if Chris Brown (or whoever wrote this song) was inspired by the plot of Indecent Proposal with Woody Harrelson, Demi Moore, and Robert Redford? Rich dude wants a happily married woman and dangles the carrot of an obscene amount of cash to her husband in exchange for a night of unbridled salami slamming. Cuck before it was cool — or at least an omnipresent hashtag on Porn Hub along with #mature, #stepmom, and #squirt.
For a song with no drums and just a steady click track, “Loyal” is dance-worthy AF.
If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t be able to tell if Too $hort is either really young or on the upper-end of middle age by his verse. His voice sounds curiously young (much like how an Altoid is curiously strong), but there’s a slightly nasal, crackly quality to it that gives away his age.
Finishing this out strong! I’m starting to feel the bass on this song in my chest. Or maybe it’s just those sugar cookies that would have gone down easier with some tea. Really looking forward to that tea in just a few minutes. For now, I’m just going to let Chris Brown and company weave their sublime, strumpet-shaming spell.
I could have done anything with my time for a solid hour. And yet, I regret none of this. Bang on, Chris Brown. Bang on.
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