Trace Adkins, Luke Bryan & Pitbull – The Collab Nobody Asked For

One of the greatest voices in country music. And still, when Trace Adkins bites the dust, he’ll be most remembered for “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk,” kicking the ass of his own impersonator on a cruise ship, the puppet sex in the video of his stupid song “Brown Chicken Brown Cow,” and now this.

Boy, we thought we’d rounded the corner on terrible Trace Adkins songs just like we’d squashed the pandemic with vaccines, only to have this vomitous monstrosity foisted upon us like a new, virulent COVID strain especially adept at circumventing immunization, killing all our grandmothers, and dooming us to wearing face diapers for eternity.

Like a crack team of Wuhan virologists looking to game nature to concoct the most diabolical superbug possible, they took an already terrible Trace Adkins song, added a bit of Luke Bryan for bad measure (as if he’s got anything that could boost this effort), and then of all things, dredged up the nuclear ass whip that is “Mr. Worldwide.” That’s right, freaking PITBULL makes an appearance, as if they were actively attempting to shoehorn in the worst of all possible elements into this “song.”

There were more people clamoring for Bill Cosby to be let out of prison than for this triumvirate of musical evil to conjoin their powers of collective suckitude into audio form to then be extruded out of the ass end of Music Row to mercilessly skull fuck our ears incessantly.

“Why are you wasting your time on this, Trig! You should focus your time on something more positive.”

Yeah screw that. This is one of the worst country songs of all time, and I’m not about to waste the opportunity to expend any and all accumulated frustrations from life on pummeling this atrocity. From my father never being proud of me to that asshole kid who ripped the flap off of my favorite Trapper Keeper in the 3rd Grade—it’s all being trained on this horror.

Where the country girls at? We’ll if they’re actually country, they’re giving this shit the slip and cranking Cody Jinks and Sunny Sweeney. Seriously, all humans of the female persuasion should be sequestered from having to ever interface with two 40-something men combined with the 59-year-old Trace Adkins white boy rapping lines like, “Where they’re swingin’ them jeans to a hillbilly track. Put me smack dab in the middle of that.”

There is no unit of measurement capable of calculating the depths of depravity a mainstream country dude will sink to when trying to rekindle their relevance. Trace Adkins would duet with Jeffrey Epstein if he were still alive. Adkins is even on record saying “Where The Country Girls At” is “this generation’s ‘Honky Tonk Badonkadonk,’” as if that’s a compliment as opposed to an indictment.

Trace Adkins was also caught saying, “I don’t know where my place is gonna be when the history of what I did is written, but 90 percent of the time, I said what I wanted to say and stuck to my guns and did what I wanted to do.”

I’m not sure if this is a 10%’er or not. But you can release all the superlative album cuts you want. A song like “Where The Country Girls At”—just like “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk”—is an irredeemable offense against the sanctity of country music, and justly relegates you to the dumpster of history.

Two Guns Down (0/10)

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