A review of Carrie Underwood's "Before He Cheats"
Right now he's probably slow dancing with a bleach blonde tramp,and she's probably getting frisky...
Right now, he's probably buying her some fruity little drink cause she can't shoot whiskey...
Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool-stick, showing her how to shoot a combo
And he don't know...
(dude, aren't you blonde too? I'm not saying that all blondes are tramps, but, fuck, isn't it slightly hypocritical of you to hate on blondes?)
That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats...
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights, slashed a hole in all 4 tires...
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.
(hey, that's great. Now, not only does he absolutely know that you have vandalized his private property, he can prove it to the cops when he files a destruction of private property criminal charge on you. AND he can use it as proof that you're fucking nuts so now you'll have a restraining order against you.)
Right now, she's probably up singing somewhite-trash version of Shania karaoke...
Right now, she's probably saying "I'm drunk"and he's a thinking that he's gonna get lucky,
Right now, he's probably dabbing on 3 dollars worth of that bathroom Polo
And he don't know...
(that bathroom Polo is worth $3, but that ain't what you pay. And also, what fucking country jukebox dive bar in New fuckin' Orleans is gonna sell ANY cologne in their bathroom that ain't "Ode de Piss" or "Vomit"?! And if he was cheating on you with Shania fuck Twain, I say, "well played, old sport. You have truly moved up the ladder." And finally, if he was cheating on you already, I think his line of thinking was more along the road of "should I fuck her in the bathroom, my place, her place or my truck or all four?")
That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats, I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights, slashed a hole in all 4 tires...
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats...
(once again, admitting to the crime ain't the smartest of things. Unless you're Al Qaida, the general rule of thumb for criminal masterminds is "never admit to guilt.")
I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl,
Cause the next time that he cheats...
Oh, you know it won't be on me!
Ohh... not on me...
(the only thing you did was give him proof of wrongdoing. While you're in jail, he'll not bang the blonde whore, he'll also fuck all your friends. And your mom. And your younger sister. And possibly your sexy, single aunt that divorced her douchebag husband years ago.)
Cause I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats...
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights, slashed a hole in all 4 tires...
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.
Ohh.. Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats...
Ohh... before he cheats...
(nope. Once again, he'll fuck all those other women while you sit in jail thinking, "the next time a boyfriend cheats on me, don't write my name into the leather. Perhaps I should take some anger management courses.")
Right now, he's probably buying her some fruity little drink cause she can't shoot whiskey...
Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool-stick, showing her how to shoot a combo
And he don't know...
(dude, aren't you blonde too? I'm not saying that all blondes are tramps, but, fuck, isn't it slightly hypocritical of you to hate on blondes?)
That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats...
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights, slashed a hole in all 4 tires...
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.
(hey, that's great. Now, not only does he absolutely know that you have vandalized his private property, he can prove it to the cops when he files a destruction of private property criminal charge on you. AND he can use it as proof that you're fucking nuts so now you'll have a restraining order against you.)
Right now, she's probably up singing somewhite-trash version of Shania karaoke...
Right now, she's probably saying "I'm drunk"and he's a thinking that he's gonna get lucky,
Right now, he's probably dabbing on 3 dollars worth of that bathroom Polo
And he don't know...
(that bathroom Polo is worth $3, but that ain't what you pay. And also, what fucking country jukebox dive bar in New fuckin' Orleans is gonna sell ANY cologne in their bathroom that ain't "Ode de Piss" or "Vomit"?! And if he was cheating on you with Shania fuck Twain, I say, "well played, old sport. You have truly moved up the ladder." And finally, if he was cheating on you already, I think his line of thinking was more along the road of "should I fuck her in the bathroom, my place, her place or my truck or all four?")
That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats, I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights, slashed a hole in all 4 tires...
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats...
(once again, admitting to the crime ain't the smartest of things. Unless you're Al Qaida, the general rule of thumb for criminal masterminds is "never admit to guilt.")
I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl,
Cause the next time that he cheats...
Oh, you know it won't be on me!
Ohh... not on me...
(the only thing you did was give him proof of wrongdoing. While you're in jail, he'll not bang the blonde whore, he'll also fuck all your friends. And your mom. And your younger sister. And possibly your sexy, single aunt that divorced her douchebag husband years ago.)
Cause I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats...
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights, slashed a hole in all 4 tires...
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.
Ohh.. Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats...
Ohh... before he cheats...
(nope. Once again, he'll fuck all those other women while you sit in jail thinking, "the next time a boyfriend cheats on me, don't write my name into the leather. Perhaps I should take some anger management courses.")
posted by Adam at
7:17 PM
1 Comments:
Hey. I like that song. And as a woman who was cheated on, props to her for having the balls to fuck up his car. I wish I'd fucked up we-know-who's car. And even if he turns her in, she's rich and won't do any time. Like Paris Hilton.
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