No wonder Jay’s smiling. It’s only been twelve hours since Beyoncé made all the Long Island girls feel empowered with her super secret new album, Beyoncé, but one thing is already clear: you haven’t had sex until you’ve had sex with Beyoncé. The record begins with the soaring “Pretty Hurts” and ends with Blue Ivy dropping hot rhymes on “Blue,” the best song to feature a baby since “Are You That Somebody?” but in-between, we learn the following:
Bey’s good at sex.
Keep me coming, keep me going, keep me coming, keep me going
Keep me humming, keep me moaning, keep me humming, keep me moaning
Don’t stop loving ’til the morning, don’t stop loving ’til the morning
Don’t stop screaming, freaking, blowing
Like, really good.
I’mma show you how I stroke (stroke it)
Having sex with her is like eating candy.
Can you lick my skittles
That’s the sweetest in the middle
Pink that’s the flavor
Solve the riddle
It’s so good, you’ll suffer from short-term memory loss.
We woke up in the kitchen saying,
“How in hell did this sh*t happen?”
Oh baby, drunk in love we be all night
Last thing I remember is our
Beautiful bodies grinding off in that club
Drunk in love
You’re the Mercedes Benz; she’s the driver.
Newer sheets, he’d swear that I like washed rags, he wet up
Boy, I’m drinking, I’m sinking on the mic ’til my boy toys
Then I fill the tub up halfway then riding with my surfboard
Surfboard, surfboard
Graining on that wood, graining, graining on that wood
I’m swerving on that, swerving, swerving on that big body Benz
Serving all this, swerv, surfing all of this good, good
You can’t resist sex with Beyoncé.
Driver roll up the partition please
Driver roll up the partition please
I don’t need you seeing ‘yonce on her knees
Took 45 minutes to get all dressed up
We ain’t even gonna make it to this club
Now my mascara running, red lipstick smudged
Oh he so horny, he want to fuck
He bucked all my buttons, he ripped my blouse
He Monica Lewinski all on my gown
Sex with her reduces you to middle school poetry.
You and I create
Rockets and waterfalls
Most pop albums, hell, most songs, are about Doing It, but rarely are they this up front about their sweaty intentions, especially when they’re sung by female artists. In other words, Jay Z is a very lucky man.
(Lyrics via Rap Genius, banner via Getty Image)
