MRP is not ashamed to admit a little bit of love for Timbaland and Justin Timberlake, but “Carry Out” is possibly the worst metaphor for love that I have encountered, ever.
However, I will give them credit for really making the most of that metaphor. I mean, really really taking it to the limit. Here’s just a, er, taste:
Number one, I take two number threes
That’s a whole lotta you and a side of me
Now is a fool of myself to want you full of me
And if its room for dessert then I want a piece
Baby get my order right, no errors
Imma touch you on the right areas
I can feed you, you can feed me
Girl deliver that to me, come see me
Cause it’s me, you, you, me, me, you all night
Have it your, way, foreplay
Before I feed you appetite
Do you like it well done, cause I do it well
Cause I’m well seasoned if you couldn’t tell
See what I mean? Worst lyrics on this side of “My Humps” (and well-documented, MRP thinks those are pretty bad lyrics).
However, I will give them bonus points for getting errors to rhyme with areas. Now that’s a lyrical gangster right there.