The lyrics to Chris Brown’s, “Wet the Bed.”
So this cat here writes a full song about how spectacular he is at making women squirt, and just as masterfully demonstrates why no one bothered to write one before.
The moment he starts singing, he’s already skipped all the foreplay; he’s alluded to the imminent danger that he may drown in your bodily fluids. Presuming, that in the presence of his talents, you’re going to let him “deep up in your ocean.”
Let’s observe that euphemism. The “ocean”? Did Chris Brown just tell you, your pussy is comparable to the ocean? That’s one big ass vagina Chris, let’s try harder to sound flattering.
Under the assumption he went for the obvious, and meant that you’re going to be wet like the ocean, who is gonna relate to this? Nobody wants to own up to an ocean wet pussy. That just sounds like a symptom to a dangerously messy condition. You wouldn’t even see that subtitle on Jerry Springer, “MY PUSSY SO WET, MY BOYFRIEND CHOKED ON IT (HE’S A LIFEGUARD).”
After some time, the chorus finally delivers, “Yeah, girl, you heard what I said. I’m gonna make you wet the bed.” For those of you who bought their mattress full price from Sears, my bets are on, “no.” Also, why recall the only relevant imagery of “wetting the bed,” pissing the sheets, when talking about sex? This is like some reverse R. Kelly shit.
Some filler lyrics pass, so bad they’d make Hot Pockets sick; Ludacris then jumps in to posit that someone has “sprung a leak,” and needs “the plumber,” as if plumbing has ever been remotely appealing. He should’ve put in the extra work and wrote a verse about clogging your disposal.
Eventually he gets confused after rapping too fast and mixes his metaphors, “Women call me the Super Soaker, and I’mma soak your bed to death.” I’m sure he meant well, and just wanted to go public with his professional “plumbing” services, but he said the “Super Soaker.”
The Super Soaker has and always will be a device that you grip at the shaft and manually spray fluid from the tip, kinda like a penis. So, this man here is gonna personally, “soak your bed to death.” Sure.
I’m going to advise you not invite this guy over if you take pride in your carpet; you’ll regret it.
The song then continues to drone on until it reaches a superfluous 4 minutes and 28 seconds. I ask myself, if songs are typically a microcosm of an event or life, how long has this been going on for to reach 4 fuckin’ minutes and 28 seconds song time of you getting wet/squirting?
Convert this song to dog years, this has probably been going on for 12 hours; and if Chris Brown is half as good as he claims to be, you better hope you stayed away from the hardwood floors, ‘cuz that shit is ruined.