We start out with Trey walking into some skanky place that is apparently a Dominatrix Training Camp, with women wearing tight outfits and flipping their hair around. Trey checks his reflection out in a mirrored wall, thinkin’ he all that with his shades, but really, Usher has done this 4 billion times in other videos, and done it a whole lot better. Just sayin.
There seems to be some kind of power situation, with weak strobe lights flickering and buzzing. (You’d think that pop stars would be able to pay the electric bill, but some people never learn.) Then the music starts, and it basically all goes to hell. First we have various shots of Trey apparently trying to lead a gospel choir that doesn’t exist, waving his arms about like he know what he’s doing, but that doesn’t get anywhere. So somebody cues some hookers to start striking slutty poses in the background while Trey tries to look all street.
Trey sashays around the dimly lit room while those energetic hookers perform choreography that even Paula Abdul wouldn’t take credit for. (It appears that Trey likes to do weird little movements with his neck while pawing himself in his crotch region. My guess is that Trey grew up on a farm where nobody explained to him that he’s not a chicken nor does his tackle even begin to compare to Throb the Wonderbull.)
But hey, those hooker girls really know how to whip their hair around and wave their booties in the air. They be jammin’ with they bad selves. We then get several shots of Trey primping around with his little designer suit, but with people screaming “Bottoms Up!” on the soundtrack, ain’t nobody diggin’ his threads. All eyes are on the silhouetted hookers as they show us how their very talented boobies can shimmy to the beat.
We focus for a bit on Trey as he bellows some lyrics, but the only words that stick in my mind is him hollering “as we go alcohol insane”. Go? I’m thinking they’ve already been there and back. Some producer must have figured out that the gyrating fly girls in the background are taking over this show, so he instructs the cameraman to start dicking with the shots, making Trey appear more impressive than he really is.
So we start seeing Trey alone on another part of the soundstage, where he’s making shadow figures on the wall. Not really sure what that’s supposed to prove, but at least we can see him a little better. This doesn’t last very long, however, and soon we’re back to the wildly horny backup dancers touching every part of their body that they can reach. (I didn’t know this until now, but it seems that if you pull on your hair in an anguished manner it apparently drives you into even more of a sexual frenzy. I’ll have to try that some time.)
Trey does some more of the chicken-neck thing while the girls in the background do some squat thrusts. As if their intentions were not clear enough, the girls then spread their legs really wide so we can confirm that they don’t have a penis. Thank you for that. I was SO confused up until this point.
I guess Trey gets bored with the quartet of horny streetwalkers behind him, so he wanders off to another room where… I’m really not sure what’s going on. We can vaguely see a new woman doing something minimally erotic with some gymnastic rings, but it looks like the more important feature of this new room is that there’s a comfy chair in the middle of it which comes with its own bottle of hooch. Trey immediately makes himself at home in this chair and swigs from the bottle. Priorities, right?
The free beverage causes Trey to bellow more crap about “alcohol hero”. Nice. Let’s teach the youth of today that nothing can be finer than to be inebriated and treat women like disposable possessions that can be left in another part of the soundstage when you get bored. (On the flip side, skanky dancers in the background, you feel good about leaving a legacy to your sisters that you gotta hump set props in order to be important? Geez.)
Eventually, Trey wanders into some nightclub scene where (big surprise) more trashy women are cavorting around and begging to be mounted. Trey grabs one of them by the hair and slams her head into his chest, because that’s really erotic. He then picks up his bottle of hooch and staggers around trying to decide which tramp will get his affections for the evening. (Or at least for the next 15 minutes.)
Suddenly, we start seeing another hoochy in a blond wig, her breasts cinched into a corset so tight that I’m surprised she can get any oxygen. She starts rapping about “salt around the rim”, so I’m guessing this is Nicki Minaj. (I don’t think it really matters who she is. Trey certainly doesn’t care.) Nicki goes on for a while, but any vocal stylings she might have are lost in the fact that she waves her booty more than anybody so far in the video.)
What is wrong with people? Is this really considered entertainment? It’s certainly not progress of any kind.
And Nicki keeps going, with the producers jacking with her scenes, speeding up the video so that she appears to be a psychotic harpy of some kind. And Nicki actually grunts “I’m really such a lady.” Oh, no, honey, you’re not. “Lady” is not a term that will ever be applied to you, not with your cootchie humping the camera lens.
Trey just keeps drinking in the chair in the middle of the room. I keep drinking because at some point this madness has got to end.
But Nicki’s not done. She fiddles with the gymnastic rings, and then compares herself to Anna Nicole Smith.
Before or after the overdose? Sorry. My bad.
And maybe Nicki had a game-plan in mind, trying to prove some kind of point, but she just comes across as completely out of her mind. I don’t see any hint of salvation in this whole mess.
Back to Trey wandering around the sex room and sampling the wares. Apparently there isn’t a single female on the planet that doesn’t desperately want to have his baby. One of the more pushy sluts rips Trey’s shirt off, so that we can see he has lots of tattoos, in case you weren’t impressed with just his misogyny and objectifying of women. (Nicki keeps waving her fanny off in the corner, doing her inept part for equal sleaze rights.)
Trey struts around the room, apparently believing that his chauvinism will be forgiven since we can now see his nipples. (That sound you hear is the NOW organization speed-dialing legislators.) The strumpets continue to gyrate. Trey continues to drink and paw at his female toys as the song fades out.
Excuse me, I’ve got to go make my eyes stop bleeding…
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