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“Cry Babies” boasts of shooting a man with hollow-point bullets, smoking so much weed that the fire department responds, and receiving oral sex from multiple women. That cut and most others spew the f-word. Lots of gunplay and murder. “Get the F— Back” threatens rivals with lines like, “Bang, bang, kill a man/Let his brains hang” and “Cut his [expletive] head off!” “Go to Sleep” brags about permanently silencing a “b–ch” who talked too much. Drugs and alcohol are glamorized on 11 tracks in the form of marijuana, Hennessy, cocaine, malt liquor or Remy. Crass anatomical slang and graphic sexual references get so perverse that we can’t begin to describe them. Particularly offensive, “She Said” accuses a Christian girl of being experienced at anal sex, lesbian encounters and having intercourse with three men at a time. Another rap casts Ludacris in the role of a preacher, but rather than being spiritual, his sermonizing is disturbingly sexual.
Chris Bridges is one severely twisted dude. A self-proclaimed “porno music producer” (“Freaky Things”), he uses Word of Mouf as a platform for driving an already obscene genre to new lows. Brutal violence. Explicit sexual depravity. Wanton drug use. Language that would curl a longshoreman’s toes. Ludacris has no place in our homes.
