Rolling Stones Fridays!!!: Bitch

“I’m feelin’ drunk, juiced up and sloppy. Ain’t touched a drink all night. Feeling hungry. Can’t see the reason. Just had a horsemeat pie.” The Rolling Stones, Bitch

Actually Mick…I think I know the reason you feel weird and disoriented. It’s probably because you just ate a horsemeat pie.

Christianity, Judaism and Islam all forbid the eating of horses. I’m not especially religious, but when the Big Three can come together on a single topic, it’s probably in your best interests to just follow them on that one.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 64: It Wasn't Me by Shaggy and Rik Rok

“Picture this, we were both butt naked, banging on the bathroom floor. But she caught me on the counter (It wasn't me). Saw me bangin' on the sofa (It wasn't me). I even had her in the shower (It wasn't me). She even caught me on camera (It wasn't me),” Shaggy and Rik Rok, It Wasn’t Me
Congratulations to Shaggy, I suppose. It is really hard to write a song about an egregious cheater and still kind of feel grossed out about the person being cheated on.
Rik Rok is cheating on his girlfriend with the girl next door. Already a stupid move. If things go bad with a girl you are messing around with, normally you can just disappear. You can’t disappear from your neighbor though, unless you pack up and move.
So Rik Rok is banging this girl on the bathroom floor. And the counter. And the sofa. You know, all the places that most people normally like to have clean because they eat and live there and would not like it covered with mess from Rik Rok’s Kok. But what’s even creepier is that apparently Rik Rok’s girlfriend just stands there and watches the whole action go down. So, Rik Rok is either dating a super perv who likes to film her boyfriend fucking or a borderline retard. I tend to lead towards retarded person. Why? Because only a retarded person would ever fall for the excuse that the person they just filmed banging on the bathroom floor was not, in fact, their boyfriend.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 63: If You Seek Amy by Britney Spears

“All of the boys and all of the girls are begging to if you seek Amy.” Britney Spears, If You Seek Amy

In case you missed all the Fox News outrage, you won’t find anything dirty by just reading these lyrics that don’t make any real sense. But if you sing/autotune/whatever-the-hell-it-is-Britney-does, it kind of sounds like, “All of the boy and all of the girls are begging to F-U-C-K me.” It’s pretty dumb, and to quote another juvenile gag, it’s also sofa king wee todd it.

Beyond that though, I am pretty sure no one is currently begging to fuck Britney anymore. Sure a few years ago, maybe some people were willing to hit that one more time. Nowadays, no matter how hot she gets, I still can’t quite erase the memory of that bald butterball smacking a car with an umbrella. Plus, after having two kids, that weird goatee’d paparazzo and a Federline up in there, I am pretty sure her vagina could be counted as a FEMA emergency zone. After seeing photos of her walking barefoot in gas stations, I am pretty sure she can’t be considered a sex object anymore. In a best case scenario, getting busy with Britney Spears would leave your dick covered in Flaming Hot Cheetos dust. Worst case, she snaps into that thing like a Slim Jim.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 62: Rude Boy by Rhianna

“Come here, rude boy, boy, can you get it up? Come here, rude boy, boy, is you big enough?” Rhianna, Rude Boy

Look, Rhianna. I’m gonna be honest. When I first heard you, I kind of liked you despite myself. And then when I saw you, I really liked you. Like...a lot a lot.

So, I have to assume that if you have to ask your “rude boy” if he can get it up or not, there is a more than reasonable chance that your “rude boy” is dead. However, asking if he is big enough down there is a whole different ball park. Rhianna, if you have been having a whole lot of issues with either limp dicked or tiny peckered “rude boys,” I have to believe you are not trying hard enough. There is a whole nation of men who have had their hearts broken by this song. It’s like the equivalent of Meatloaf asking if his Macaroni and Cheese is cheesy enough. You know that hefty bastard can find cheesier mac and you know he knows he won’t rest until he finds it.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 61: Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye

“Baby I got sick this morning, a sea was storming inside of me. Baby I think I'm capsizing, the waves are rising and rising. And when I get that feeling I want Sexual Healing.” -Marvin Gay, Sexual Healing.

Alright, there are really quite a few things wrong with this one, so let’s dig right in. Famous people tend to get whatever they want. Artists tend to romanticize everything. Eventually, famous artists will romanticize something that makes no sense whatsoever, like blue balls.

The first indicator that the narrator is speaking from the viewpoint of someone who’s lost all touch with reality is simply the fact that he’s waking a woman up for sex. As anyone who doesn’t sell millions of records for a living can tell you, this is a laughably misguided tactic, even if you’re both drunk. The second indicator is announcing your sickness as a mood-enhancer. Can you imagine the reaction you’d get from your non-celebrity-struck partner after waking her up to say “I’m feeling completely sick. I want sexual healing?” You would likely soon be in need of scrotal healing from the swift kick you were delivered by the aforementioned partner before she fell back asleep or turned on the bedside light for a very long, very unfriendly stare.

Now, Marvin does seem to have some awareness that his medical need to dump his capsizing prostate into the nearest available human toilet may not be met with enthusiasm. He makes a hilariously half-assed argument that “it’s good for us” before changing the lyric to “it’s good for me” in the very next line. His baldly self-serving angle is akin to saying “Face-punching healing is good for us. Well, it’s good for me.”

I chose the video below because it allows you to hear clearly the closing to the song, as Marvin croons “please don’t procrastinate. It’s not good to masturbate.” Not good for who, Marvin? Not good for who?

Rolling Stone Fridays!!!: Rough Justice

“One time you were my baby chicken, now you've grown into a fox. Once upon a time I was your little rooster, but am I just one of your cocks?” The Rolling Stones, Rough Justice

Mick Jagger was 62 when the song “Rough Justice” came out. I only say that because, Jesus, this song is creepy. Apparently, in this song, Mick was dating a younger girl who undergoes a metamorphosis from sweet young thing to devilish vixen. But you know what, that’s something like a 20 year-old-does. Not something a 36 year-old-does.

So, creepy 60 something Mick is chasing a (much) younger lady. Disgusting enough. But Mick asks her, “Am I just one of your cocks?” God, Jesus, fuck, I hope so. The idea of a 62 year old comparing their half-rigid droopy boner to a bunch of 25-year-old erections is just depressing. No one wants to be the oldest dude at the circle jerk, Mick. Just take your saggy balls and go home.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 59: My Chick Bad by Ludacris

“Coming down the street like a parade, Macy's, I fill her up balloons.
Test her and guns get drawn like cartoons. D’oh, but I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout Homer. Chick so bad the whole crew wanna bone her.” Ludacris, My Chick Bad

One important question that is often overlooked in selecting a lady friend is: Do my friends really want to bone her? Sure, having your friends and girlfriend getting along is nice, but you really want to make sure that every time you leave the room, your friends are desperate to get into her pants.

But if they don’t want to bang her right away, don’t be discouraged. Just take her to the doctor and have her breasts enlarged to cartoonish, some would say balloon-like, proportions. Really whore her up some.

This advice may not be for everyone, but Spencer Pratt swears by it, and it’s worked pretty well so far.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 58: Oh, What a Night by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons

“You know, I didn't even know her name, but I was never gonna be the same. What a lady. What a night. Oh, I…I got a funny feeling when she walked in the room and I, as I recall it ended much too soon.” – The Four Tops, Oh, What a Night

Welcome to the creepiest song about losing your virginity ever made. The story, as such, finds Frankie Valli seeing a woman walk in a room and getting an uncontrollable boner. He never asks her what her name is and once they have sex, he ejaculates so quickly it is an unsatisfying experience for all involved. Frankie’s right! What a fun night!

Of course, many people have bad or awkward first times. Not everyone sets them to the happiest faux-Motown music that makes it seem like your pathetic and shameful squirtings were actually an amazing life moment.

I came to hate this song when I heard it a Bar Mitzvah. There is nothing creepier than playing a happy song about losing your virginity at your first chance to a room full of horny 13 year old boys who have just been told they are now men. And by the way, in December 1963, Frankie Valli would have been 29. Which also really makes this song twice as hideous.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 4/20: Marijuana In Your Brain by Lords of Acid

“Marijuana in your brain, takes more time to ejaculate.” – Lords of Acid, Marijuana In Your Brain

There are lots of songs about the pleasures of getting fucked up on weed (by which I mean the entire oeuvre of Snoop Dogg), but people often overlook the medical benefits of getting high. Like, for people who jizz their pants at strip clubs or at the first site of their girlfriend’s boobs, weed just may be necessary.

So, on this momentous day of 4/20, you may want to think about rolling a fat one. Especially if you are a two pump chump.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 56: Soft by Kings of Leon

“I'd pop myself in your body. I'd come into your party, but I'm soft.” – Kings of Leon, Soft
People confuse romance with sex way too often anymore, but Kings of Leon prove that not every romantic encounter has to end in sex. Especially if you’re too fucked up on alcohol and drugs to achieve a boner.
Nothing makes a lady happier than hearing how much you’d normally want to pop into their body, but you just did too much coke to make the blood flow into your penis. I mean, maybe you could do something else besides sex, right? Who doesn’t want a crazed, shrivel dicked lunatic with salty whiskey sweat dripping off their forehead as he absentmindedly licks all over them? This song is every woman’s dream of a perfect relationship, a guy who can’t have sex with you but still wants to talk about it in incessant and splattery detail.
Oh, and guess what, girls! He’s singing about his erectile dysfunction with his brothers and his cousin, so Boner-free is also a family man!

Rolling Stone Fridays!!!: Let It Bleed

“Yeah, we all need someone we can cream on and if you want to, well you can cream on me…You can cum all over me,” The Rolling Stones, Let It Bleed

Mick Jagger has it all. He’s one of the biggest rock musicians of all time, he’s hooked up with some of the hottest women of the late 20th century and was caught having sex with David Bowie (which is actually way less embarrassing than his turn as a bad guy in the Emilio Esteves thriller “Freejack.”).

But there is one thing that Mick also sidelines in and apparently, that job is being a cum rag. Sure, most people just use a crusty old towel or sock or some Kleenex, but Mick is so giving. If you want to, you can cum all over him.

The image of a cum-drizzled Mick Jagger is pretty nasty, but if it catches on, I’m pretty sure Steven Tyler will appear twice as cum drenched within the next year.

I'm A Monkey! I'm a Man!

I had so much fun with “Start Me Up” last week that I decided a change was in order. I’m changing R. Kelly Fridays into the new and improved Rolling Stones Fridays. The Stones are my favorite band and have plenty of nastiness to draw upon. And R. Kelly, well, it was increasingly becoming like shooting fish in a barrel. We get it, Robert, you are going to fuck someone until they got pregnant. So, I’d like to say, “Bye, Kells. It was fun while it lasted. We may meet again one day.” And, “Hello to Mick, Keith and the boys. I love you so much that I can’t wait to ridicule you.”

Also, I’d like to take a moment to direct you to a worthy cause. My friends at Adult Swim Central are holding a fundraiser from Friday night to Saturday morning for Oral, Head and Neck Cancer. If you have time and can spare a few dollars, please check them out here: http://www.adultswimcentral.com/SwimAgainstCancer/

In the meantime, I highly encourage you to fan the site on Facebook, follow me on Twitter, or even check out my new homepage. And we’re still taking emails here at disgustinglyrics@gmail.com. I have no shame and I will whore it for anyone. Thanks to everyone for reading. I probably would have given up a long time ago without all of your support. Thank you for continuing to read.

Disgusting Lyrics of the Day 54: Captain Jack by Billy Joel

“Your sister’s gone out, she’s on a date. You just sit at home and masturbate,” Billy Joel, Captain Jack

Some things go good together: Peanut butter and chocolate. Salt and Pepper. Ebony and Ivory (living together in perfect harmony). But Billy Joel and Masturbation go together like bleach and my eyes.

Masturbation is great. In fact, if I’m working at home, I may jerk off like three or four times a day. But hearing Billy Joel talking about spanking it makes me suddenly ashamed to own a penis. Thinking about the Mr. “We Didn’t Start the Fire” playing with his boner may just be the most un-erotic image possible.
I don’t have a sister, but if I did, I sincerely hope that my masturbation habits weren’t tied into her dating habits. Because if she had a date everytime I masturbated when I was high school age, she was probably a gigantic slut.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 53: Life Is Real (Song for Lennon) by Queen

"Guilt stains on my pillow. Blood on my terraces. Torsos in my closet, shadows from my past. Life is real...Breast-feeding myself, what more can I say?" – Queen, Life is Real (Song for Lennon)

Surely when Freddie Mercury walked through the gates of heaven, John Lennon was standing there, waiting with his arms crossed, eyebrow cocked, a heavenly iPod next to him softly playing "Life Is Real." "You want to explain this?" he probably said. To which Freddie presumably struck a pose and belted out an impromptu call-and-response scat with the members of Marshall's 1970 Thundering Herd football team.

Apart from that, how would you explain why your tribute to a recently departed, beloved fellow musician was a confusing laundry list of unpleasantness, including "torsos in my closet," and "guilt stains on my pillow?" Had they shared an interest in callisthenic masturbation and dismembered murder-trophies?

I like to think that when the Central Park Strawberry Fields Memorial was being constructed in '85, Yoko Ono sat down with the designers and discussed whether to make "torsos in my closet" or "breastfeeding myself" the centerpiece engraving before deciding to compromise on simply "Imagine."

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 52: Forever in Blue Jeans by Neil Diamond

“Honey's sweet, but it ain't nothin' next to baby's treat,” Neil Diamond, Forever in Blue Jeans

Neil Diamond thinks his girlfriend’s pussy tastes better than food. Seriously, I have spent half an hour trying to figure out what the hell else he could be talking about. Nothing else makes sense. Hell, the whole damn song doesn’t make sense.

After talking about his girlfriend’s delicious vagina, Neil says, “If you pardon me, I’d like to say, we’d do ok forever in blue jeans.” Sorry, I can’t pardon you for that Neil, because I have no clue what in the fuck you’re talking about. That might be because I still have the image of your sequined blouse on the floor while you lap up some trim. Obviously, the girl takes her jeans off at some point so you can get to her baby treat.

Side note: No one could possibly wear jeans every day. In the summer, I like to wear shorts so my balls can get a sense of the breeze. Just thinking about wearing jeans to the San Diego Comic Con has made my sack turn to Silly Puddy.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 51: Do That To Me One More Time by Captain & Tennille

“Do that to me one more time. Once is never enough with a man like you. Whoa! Do that to me one more time. I can never get enough of a man like you,” Captain & Tennille, Do That To Me One More Time

This song may well be the filthiest thing I have ever put on this blog. Sure, The Captain fiddles around on his little keyboard and everyone sounds chirpy and happy and Toni Tennille looks pretty and wholesome, but you would be hard pressed to find anyone that would read these lyrics and not walk away thinking it was about the Captain grinding out some sweet, sweet Muskrat Love on top of Tennille, sweat dripping in torrents off of his Captain’s hat.
I mean, this song should straight up be called, “Do me one more time, I still have a little horny left in me.” If Lil’ Kim put out a song called “Do That To Me One More Time,” Bill O’Reilly would be calling for her head. But here’s the thing, this song kind of gets a pass because the music, rhythm and phrasing makes it sound like the most boring, fall asleep, missionary position, I-have-a-bad-hip-so-go-slow sex ever performed. I mean, the song makes me want to sleep. No wonder Toni wants it one more time. If I had sex at that snoozy pace, I would want it at least one more time too.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 50: Start Me Up by The Rolling Stones

“You, you, you make a grown man cry. You, you make a dead man cum.” The Rolling Stones, Start Me Up

The Rolling Stones are old as hell. In fact, Keith Richards has been clinically dead for years, but the lady in “Start Me Up” still makes him ejaculate zombie dust.

This whole song is like an old man’s cry for help. “Please, if you just are able to start me up, I swear I can finish the task at hand. Also, I may cry or cum on you, so watch out down there.” What does Mick want this woman to start exactly? Getting him hard? That would kind of make sense because this song was made in 1981, long before Mr. Jagger would have had viagra. Still, this is pretty much one of the best songs ever made about grizzled old English men pawing at you and never stopping. So, basically it’s about Jerry Hall.

Disgusting Lyric of the Day 49: Reverse Cowgirl by T-Pain

“Told 'em like the feds, take a picture, I don't give a fuck. We can do it anywhere, even in my Caddy trunk,” T-Pain, Reverse Cowgirl

Making love in the trunk of a Caddy has to be one of the most intimate experiences in a person’s life. It’s pitch black and boiling hot in there, which can only lead to asphyxiation or the much maligned wrong-hole-penetration technique. And hey, if you need lube, chances are, you can just scoop a handful of grease off the tire jack and smother your naughty parts with them.

Some people talk about having sex on the beach or making love in a field of flowers. But none of that compares to straight up fucking on an old donut tire. It’s ribbed for your pleasure.

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Hey everyone.

I am in lovely California and have not had the best access to the internet. The site may be running slow or late for a few days and I want to apologize in advance. Hopefully, you'll stick around and we'll make some miracles happen in the next few days.

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Merrill