So this is a thing we do now, I guess, music reviews. Here’s what I thought about Cole Beasley of the Dallas Cowboys debut foray into the rap game:
What the fuck did I just listen to? REVIEW OVER.
(thinks it over…sighs)
Damnit. FINE. I’d be doing a disservice to everyone who enjoys hate listening to athletes getting their cockles on the rise and jumping into the rap game. Shaquille O’Neal did it, Deion Sanders did it, Allen Iverson did it….and now Cole Beasley of the Dallas Cowboys thinks he can do it.
Beasley is well known round these parts for his Twitter feud with Howard Eskin and the glorious, flowing golden blonde locks he sports under his helmet. My god, just look at it bouncing exuberantly about his strong, broad shoulders…..that is some serious lettuce you could just run your fingers through all day long. It makes you feel safe, like you’re loved….
Huh? What? Oh yeah, the song.
It sucks, but what did you expect? Did you really think some white loser who plays a poor wide receiver for the Dallas Cowboys would produce a halfway decent song? OF COURSE YOU DIDN’T.
You know why you’re here….you’re here to laugh at someone who put themselves out there and tried to accomplish something they’re passionate about. Serves you right, Beasley, for trying to reach a childhood dream. What a loser, am I right gang?
(thinks about my own childhood dream of being a fireman….chokes back tears as I realize I’ve wasted my life)
::gazes over at a mirror:: Yeah….what a loser….what a big, fat, terrible ugly loser
Let’s all listen to this piece of garbage and run through the lyrics to this trainwreck after the jump, shall we?
If you haven’t listened to it yet, here it is.
The song appropriately enough starts off with some bee buzzing noises. GET IT?! Great lead-in to the first few rhymes.
By the way, the song was produced by something called “Phazzanation,” so you know the quality will be SUPERB.
Say hello to Mr. Slept On;
Early mornings, I ain’t slept long;
Big-headed so I’m head strong;
Had to be just to be headed;
To where I was goin like my head gone;
STOP SAYING HEAD. You say head four times in three lines…WE GET IT ALREADY. Is it too much to ask that throw in a noggin somewhere in there? Noggin rhymes with a lot of stuff….toboggan for one? You couldn’t throw in a noggin/Coggin Toboggan name drop in the first few lines of your debut rap single? That’s just selfish, Cole.
Said I’m crazy but I told them all that it’s no Biggie, but you dead wrong;
I’m the wrong one to be swept off up under the rug;
Patience of a wondrous slug;
That come from the mud;
And get y’all up off me;
Flowing circles round them like drawstrings;
The patience of a wondrous slug? Are slugs renowned for their extraordinary patience? Maybe they’re an impatient bunch? HOW WOULD YOU KNOW, COLE?
I don’t know a lot about zoology, but I’m fairly sure slugs don’t come from the mud. That’s a hateful stereotype, Cole, and I’ll be reporting you to the proper authorities.
Overheads get Moss reach;
For the stars I was taught dreams;
Never stop, eat, wreak Havoc like half of Mobb Deep;
You ain’t talking money then you’ve lost me;
I’m saving all that for my offspring;
AH HA! I see what you did there, Mr. Beasley. Very clever…you take us in one direction and brag about having money on your mind, as the kids say, but then SPRING IT ON US that you’re saving it for your children. That is classy with a capital K, my friend.
Can’t snatch a necklace up off me;
Cause I don’t have one;
Spent that on college funds for both my sons;
But it’s four accounts I’m accounting for, another two that’s yet to come
Yes I have enough, they can have some;
Competition yeah, I halfed ’em;
Aqib Talib is going to steal to your shoes and make you hold onto his pants like those old “Scared Straight” episodes after he hears this disrespectful line, Cole.
“GRAB ONTO MY PANTS, YOU MINE NOW. I OWN YOU. DO YOU WANT TO END UP IN HERE, WITH A KILLER LIKE ME? GIVE ME YOUR SHOES, YOU LITTLE BLONDE HAIRED BITCH BOI, I’M A KILLER AND YOU NOTHING!”
When you don’t look the part, yeah, you have to;
When you do, opportunities stack up like the odds against me, I just have one;
Opportune moment but that’s all I need;
Cause I own it, seize it, like I-C-E;
So cold like Icees,
And I’m just chilling like IVs;
I don’t have to try, come and try me;
This is effortless like when eyes blink;
Smooth like ice rinks;
It’s at this point I have to mention the song isn’t even halfway over. How long is this funeral dirge? (looks it up, sees it’s just three minutes long) THREE MINUTES?! This feels longer than the “Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” (shout out to all my fellow Gordon Lightfoot fans)
And I ain’t reached my peak;
Just a chance to be a rapper, and the future is what I’ll be;
Labels all gonna want to sign me;
ColdNation records first signed me;
Independent label owned by me;
So I’m taken like I’m Liam;
Neeson’s daughter but by me;
I’m bossed out;
I hope you haven’t reached your peak yet. 36 catches for 314 yards last season….not a peak to be rapping about.
Nobody is going to want to sign you, Cole, I’m sorry. Dr. Demento wouldn’t touch this shit with a 10-foot pole.
But Sunday, Jerry’s boss now when I ball out;
I’m a dog when Dak get the ball out;
Pull the sauce out;
Pour the sauce on em that’s too much;
Good wife that’s too clutch
Without a backbone you can’t do much
Making moves like food trucks
Getting to the bread til it’s chewed up
And my bank accounts look juiced up.
Who knew? Huh. White dude rapping too tough
While I suit up;
White and Blue’d up;
I’m not much of a rapper, Cole, but rhyming “out” with “out” three lines in a row is terrible. ALWAYS REMEMBER YOUR IAMBIC PENTAMETER, COLE, NEVER FORGET WHO YOU ARE.
Oh god, there’s the obligatory Jerry Jones shoutout….I wish he had shouted out Jim Jones and urged all of his fans to enjoy some of Jim’s world famous Kool-Aid as a treat after listening to this garbage.
At this point in time, I have to admit that he’s not THAT bad of a rapper. He’s got ok flow, a decent voice, but these lyrics….fuck me. Can you imagine sitting down and actually putting pen to paper and working these out?
“And my bank accounts look juiced up…..that’s awesome, Cole, my god this is working out great. What’s next….what rhymes with juiced up? Loosed up? Goosed up? Suit up? Oh yes…suit up…..While I suit up; White and Blue’d up; ………. THAT’S GOLD!”
Silver shoes stuck;
Getting loose touch-down;
Got all of the crowd reaching on down;
Cleaning their shoes up;
Man and back when;
I remember them telling me to end;
This vision in my medulla
And now they telling me that athletes that’s rapping can’t do much
Gotta go harder it’s too much;
All cause the stigma;
I reply with this first enigma;
And it just goes on….and on….and on…..and on. At this point I had to throw on some “Shaq Diesel” to get the awful taste out of my mouth. Stop it Cole, you’re killing us, how much more of this is left? I’m not sure I can hold on.
Gotta listen back just to learn the picture;
My first description take the earth to spin;
Before the verse can hit em;
I’m the first with skin (inaudible) rap elites but actually it only took one to revert the system;
Look at how I curve the rhythm; just squirtin venom like a nervous (inaudible);
Making moves like food trucks;
Getting to the bread til it’s chewed up;
And my bank accounts look juiced up.
Making moves like food trucks? Getting to the bread til it’s chewed up?
::smashes head into keyboard::
I’ve had it. Of course a white rapper has to mention food trucks, it’s like he couldn’t get away from his hipster roots.
It’s nice to see the guy who transcribed the lyrics just basically gave up at the end. He didn’t give two-shits at this point to even try to figure out what Cole is saying, he just went with the “inaudible” label. I applaud the effort, at least.
There you have it. 80 Stings by Cole Beasley.
Now if we can somehow get Howard Eskin to drop a retaliation track, all will be right with the world.
Rating: 4 Ezekiel Elliot sexual harassment charges out of 5.