Against All Odds Limp Bizkit Just Keep Recording Shit

Limp Bizkit 2014

I couldn’t imagine a worse way to start the week: Limp Bizkit is droppin’ new material.


No, you’re not “tripping balls”, MAN. This is reality. Cold, cruel reality.

As I’ve made expressly clear here in the hood, this is a no fronting zone. That said, I am a rehabilitated Limp B-I-Z K-I-T fanboy. Back in early high school, I thought they were the jammin’est shit EVAR. Keep in mind, I was a late bloomer in pretty much every regard. I only recently celebrated testicle fuzz, but it’s growing fast! So I’m not sure if my opinion is wholly irrelevant, or just partially, but I’m trying to come from a place of understanding here.

Seriously tho… what-and-the-sweet-flying-fuck? I don’t even.

I’ll always be the guy sayin, “HEY! DIFFERENT STROKES, BRO!”, but I have to admit, I consider providing any kind of compensation for these guys’ services as borderline lunatic behavior. This is a perfect example of the widespread deficiency in self-awareness that seems to be spreading like that World War Z shit, only instead of insatiable flesh gobblers, we got a bunch of illiterate SWAGoffs with delusions of grandeur trying to pass off their drive to remain unemployed as angst derived from a life of hardship.

Hey, don’t get me wrong. I wish I had a piece of that NFG attitude in me. I can barely publish a fuggin’ blog post without collapsing into myself in a fever of loathing and self-doubt, but JFC… how filthy must if feel to STILL be wringing every possible dime out of this decapitated vessel? I guess Bret Michaels is still out there slaying, so fuck me.

Let’s do Freddy Durst a favor and completely ignore the lyrics. At this point, I think we know the deal when it comes to the musings of noble Sir Nookie, so allow me to briefly break down the rest of the components of this achievement. Ready? Set? Get Fucked.

Alright, opening to a chorus of noises resembling some kinda weird walrus orgy. Oft-putting. Following that is about two minutes of a painfully generic riff that leads into some shallow moment of introspection in the form of a supposed climax-building bridge that’s eventually cut off by a weird-as-fuck “Axl-Rose-with-his-penis-caught-in-the-zipper-of-his-jeans” impression from Mr. Durst. At this point, it seems like a good spot to mercifully close the track, but reminiscent of the D-O-DOUBLE-G sparking that fat spliff, the Limp ones simply don’t know when to lay off the mothafucka, and drag this bitch out another few minutes before finally wrapping up the progressive masterpiece that it is.

Half Baked Snoop Dogg

I want to keep shit positive around here, and like I said, I once supported these guys, so I feel a little guilty. If you’re on board with their latest efforts, God bless, my son. Ultimately, none of this shit matters and it’s all in good fun, but it’s HARD to view their recent “work” as anything but a desperate grab at the money and attention that once rained down upon them like so many Washingtons at a Weezy inhabited strip club. Everybody’s gotta get paid, but I think it’s time for the crew to take a hard look in the mirror and embrace change. Putting on those Target name tags with the pointy-ass needle can be dangerous otherwise.


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Author: Juice View all posts by

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