Okay, okay, I know. This is a song about getting STDs from unsafe sex. Yes, this is the chorus:

Your nuts we want your nuts
We’ll itch and scratch and bite your nuts
Your nuts we want your nuts
Please, oh please, fuck dirty butts

Your nuts we want your nuts
We’ll itch and scratch and bite your nuts
Your nuts we want your nuts
Please, oh please, fuck dirty sluts

Here’s the thing though – it’s catchy. The rapping has some pretty clever stuff going on rhythm-wise, and the instrumentation somehow manages to communicate the idea of an itchy crotch – blurpy synth bassline, clicky drum machine percussion, guitar stings, and this tiny little synth line that I think is freaking in genius at 1:24 – just two little notes, bleep bloop, but somehow it swings you right around from the entertaining “got me a purdy woman’s love” sample into the next batch of rapping.

And then you’ve got stretches like this:

So you wanna fuck around, always gotta buck around
Lift up your dingaling nothing but a bug ya found
Now they call you funky nuts cuz you like funky butts
Scratching and biting them, now they call you monkey nuts
But I ain’t sayin nothing, cuz you ain’t playin nothin
Bring the track back and I get back to the nutsac track

Everything is cut way back to a slim drum loop, and the syncopated lyrics almost become another percussive elements – and the twisty ryhmes almost remind me of something like Beasty Boys, despite the fact that I hardly ever listen to them. Something really works about stuff like that.

One thing I’ve got to admit that I find undeniably entertaining about some of these ICP tracks is the ridiculous things that they come up with:

Somebody asked me how I got scabies
Probably that homeless fat redneck bad lady
That I fucked in the shed

Did you make it through to the end of the song? If not, skip ahead to 3:26 for a little bonus action.

 

“Hey, check this out man, I can remember back in school, back in elementary school. 
Yeah, shit used to be cool then, ya know what I’m sayin? 
Cuz it was all about shootin’ dice and playin’ dodge ball and shit, you know? 
But then something happened man, everybody grew up and now ain’t nothing the same, 
like this one punk mutha fucka. 
The same mutha fucka I was trading G.I. Joes with and playin’ kick ball,
is gonna run up on me and throw a gang sign 
talkin about he’s gettin ready to fly my head and shit. 

Well fuck you ya know, cuz your still the same fake ass bitch you always was, 
so don’t come up on me with that shit, 
cause I know ya too well. 
You still the same ‘gotta be in by 6,’ jello eatin’, mutha fucka ya always was. 
Oh yeah, and a couple years ago I fucked ya sister at your birthday party. 
So don’t come up on me, cuz I know ya too well bitch boy.”
“Yeah mutha fuckin’ bitch boy!”

Once again, I know, it’s not the most appealing way of saying it, but… it’s an appealing sentiment. “Don’t try to act like someone else, because I know you too well.”