“Your girlfriend is sweet/ your girlfriend likes to go down on me …/ She’s known all over town/ That booty don’t ever back down/ From her knees to her V/ Is that a moose knuckle???” Why on earth would you send a CD with lyrics like that to the Mail & Guardian to review? Have you ever read the M&G?
Your lack of judgment might be explained by the fact that your business card claims you’re in “Corporate entertainement” (sic), but it’s more likely because you really truly have no idea how awful your CD is. Well, that’s a bit unfair. Without the lyrics, it’s just a carbon copy of a thousand other blandly competent bands who think you can rhyme beer with blow job and call yourself an artist.
But your lyrics make my poor brain try to hold its breath so I can DIE, DIE, DIE. Ah, the poignant self-reflection of your song Rockstar. Verily, it’s like listening to the Confessions of St Augustine set to a soundtrack by Good Charlotte. “So you wanna be a ROCKSTAR?/ So you wanna feel what is like to be a GOD? Are u ready? To become what your not?” (Sic. Super sic.)
You claim to have “the stage presence of King Kong”, which I assume means you’re in it for the blonde chick sitting on your hairy hand and the little aeroplanes buzzing around your heads. Those are not real planes, people!