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A guy rationalizes infidelity on “Kickin’ It With Your Girlfriend.” Illicit affairs also dominate “Trapped in the Closet” (a bonus video is as salacious as the lyrics). Kelly’s language is atrocious start to finish, whether he’s spewing obscenities or describing sexcapades in lewd terms (“Put My T-Shirt On,” “Happy Summertime,” “Playas Only,” “Touchin’,” “Hit It Til the Mornin’,” “In the Kitchen,” “Remote Control,” “Girls Go Crazy,” “Reggae Bump Bump” and others). Casual sex is just part of the party atmosphere, which includes drugs and alcohol. More than a half-dozen cuts mention champagne, rum, marijuana, Colt 45, Cristal or Remy Martin. “Sex Weed” is loaded with terms comparing physical intimacy to a chemically induced high. Violent threats flare up on “Trapped in the Closet.” “Touchin’” and “(Sex) Love Is What We Makin’” consider sexual trysts heaven-sent. Kelly fancies himself a Christian and refers to himself as such while discussing his tomcatting ways (“Trapped in the Closet”). On “Slow Wind” he tells a lover, “Put your voodoo on me, babe … and curse me/Show me how you do your magic.”
So much for those sex tapes, civil suits and child pornography charges. Aided by guest rappers such as Snoop Dogg, The Game, Baby, Nivea and Twista, R. Kelly keeps flaunting the very sin-sickness that brought him scandal. Sadly, it hasn’t hurt record sales one bit.
