Why Can’t Male Celebrities Feed Themselves?

Famous men are having a hard time in quarantine. We were recently treated to Robert Pattinson‘s concerning kitchen habits via his GQ cover story, during which he tried to create a microwaved, sugar-encased “handheld” pasta. He described some of his favorite meals: “I’ll have oatmeal with, like, vanilla protein powder on it. And I will barely even mix it up… I eat out of cans and stuff. I’ll literally put Tabasco inside a tuna can and just eat it out of the can.”

His friend and The King co-star Timothée Chalamet is faring no better. Without his Tompkins Square bacon, egg and cheese, Chalamet appears to be subsisting on honey, Triscuits and Kraft macaroni and cheese. He shared a blurry, captionless photo of his pantry yesterday (quirky!). Someone aptly commented: “YESSS GIVE US NOTHING KINGGGG.” Other fans are worried for his nutrition and mental health.

Instagram post by Timothée Chalamet • May 14, 2020 at 7:31am UTC

I get why Timothée might be having trouble putting in the effort. He put a huge year on hold when COVID-19 shut down the entertainment industry: Dune, The French Dispatch, Find Me and his London theatre debut 4,000 Miles are all on pause. He also recently ended things with his fellow French-American snog buddy Lily Rose-Depp.

But why can’t these high-cheekboned, effete male celebrities bother themselves to order takeout? I suppose adolescent breakouts like Timo and Rob have literally never been responsible for arranging their meals: their mothers passed off meal duties to agents, publicists, caterers and craft services. Here’s a show I’d watch: Negroni king Stanley Tucci queer eyes Robert Pattinson and Timothée Chalamet. Just saying, Hollywood.

Photos via Instagram

Zebra Katz – IN IN IN Lyrics

Play this song

Yo, what I do, is a (?) GQ interview
On the runway waiting for the shoot
Glam squad, got me looking hella cute
Yo, I’m in a mood
No I can’t stand still, I gotta move
On the dance floor, I need room
Yo ZK, drop the tune

When I’m locking
Ain’t no stopping, I’m so poppin’, the beat keep dropping
Ain’t no stopping, the beat keep dropping
I’m so popping, when I’m locking
I’m so popping, when I’m locking
Ain’t no stopping, the beat keep dropping
Ain’t no stopping
Ain’t no stopping
Ain’t no stopping, the beat keep dropping
The beat keep dropping

What a time to be alive, just living my life up
Bitches on the right whole life, hit the viking
Find my type, this shit ain’t right, (?), I tried, I supplied, I survived
What a time to be alive, just living my life up
Bitches on the right whole life, hit the viking
Find my type, this shit ain’t right, (?), I tried, I supplied, I survived

With a little bite of tooth
No need to be rude, or (?)
On a kitty like a fleek
Buzzing in the breeze
(?) new tea
(?) me
Where do that (?)
Holding on tight
I was breathing through the night
You were living that life, you were living that life
(?) n*ggas gotta fight
That’s motherfucking right, it’s motherfucking right
(?) n*gga gotta dem
Hot damn, hot damn
Is my name in your mouth, I was born in the south
From the palm to the beach, from the west Indies
Black, looking on the flow, oh so, bitch you know
And if you didn’t know know, now you know, now you know
Black, looking on the flow, oh so, bitch you know
And if you didn’t know know, now you know, now you know

I’m going in, I’m going in in in
This time I’mma need me a real a big win
The way I do my thing is a goddamn sin
Like, shit, where do I begin
Yo, this time I get it get it in in in
Who’s up and coming for the next big win?
Oh, you can’t beat me, I’m a dancehall king
Yeah, I been around the world and I’mma do it again

I’m a head-bangin’, dreads-havin’, hair-swangin’, pants-saggin’, ass-shakin’, feet-stompin’
Is it all over over my bass?
I want that nerve-workin’, head-jerkin’, neck-swervin’, toe-tapping, head-bopping, beat-dropping stank all over my face

I’m in a mood
No I can’t stand still, I gotta move
On the dance floor, I need room
Yo ZK, drop the tune
I’m in a mood
No I can’t stand still, I gotta move
On the dance floor, I need room
Yo ZK, drop the tune

When I’m locking
Ain’t no stopping, I’m so poppin’, the beat keep dropping
Ain’t no stopping, the beat keep dropping
I’m so popping, when I’m locking
I’m so popping, when I’m locking
Ain’t no stopping, the beat keep dropping
Ain’t no stopping
Ain’t no stopping
Ain’t no stopping, the beat keep dropping
The beat keep dropping

IshDARR – Foreplay

[Intro]
All night, all night, all night with you
Window turnin’, kush burnin’, broad day
Late night, uh, ’til late night

[Chorus]
Let me foreplay, foreplay, foreplay with you
Window turnin’, kush burnin’, broad day with you
‘Til late night, uh, ’til late night

[Verse 1]
Drivin’, goin’ 90
See no car behind me
Pulled up on this shawty
She said, "4 side niggas grimey"
I said, "Damn near, you might be correct, girl"
But lemme tell you somethin’ ’bout me
It’s the diamond hoop
Space im my tooth
Always with the crew
Plottin’ greatness every single day
Goddamn, super smooth with the lingo and she dig that
GQ on the scene and she dig that
‘Cause she knows when I’m gone, she might miss that
Yeah, I know when I’m gone, she might miss that

[Chorus]
Let me foreplay, foreplay, foreplay with you
Window turnin’, kush burnin’, broad day with you
‘Til late night
[girl]
’til late night’
[run it back, run it back]
Foreplay, foreplay, foreplay with you
Window turnin’, kush burnin’, broad day with you
‘Til late night, ’til late night

[Verse 2]
Drivin’, goin’ 90
[90]
See no car behind me
Pulled up on this shawty
She said, "4 side niggas grimy"
I said, "Girl, don’t judge no book by its cover"
She said, "Boy, please don’t play dumb, dumb motherfucker"
Out the way
Always on your shit
Don’t let ’em touch ya
Never move like nobody else, she ask me
"What you here for?
Are you different?"
Beneficial?
Make ’em listen?
She say, "Boy, don’t judge no book by its cover"
I said, "Girl, don’t you play dumb, dumb motherfucker"

[Chorus]
Let me foreplay, foreplay, foreplay with you
Window turnin’, kush burnin’, broad day with you
‘Til late night, uh, ’til late night
Foreplay, foreplay, foreplay with you
Window turnin’, kush burnin’, broad day with you
‘Til late night, ’til late night

Rara – For The Money (feat. T.I.)

[Verse 1: RaRa]
Chasin’ the money like it got legs
I’m tryna come up far from the feds
I need a big booty and some bread
I need to scrum a head and some eggs
Smokin’ cigarette inside the foreign
Goin’ on police chases when it’s borin’
Ghetto bitches sell niggas then goin’
Fuck with my pimp and she know that I’m on

[Verse 2: T.I.]
Goin’ on, yeah, your hoe whorin’
Should be long gone, get you gone
In the all chrome, my new whip
Goin’ real fast, get slowed down
For a long time been I been well known
Pull a bad broad like pheromone
I got things up with this [?] I’m on
‘Cause I been tryna rob for a Herringbone

[Verse 3: RaRa]
[?] I’m on Melrose
Got the fetty for it, know I’m ready for it
Ridin’ drop top, bitch, I’m headed for it
Couch steady for it
I’ma shake this, I look great, bitch
Clean your plate, bitch, fix your face, bitch
Call your girl up, fuck her world up
Baby girl up, things they tell us
Sheets they sellin’, I’ma sell her

[Verse 4: T.I.]
My mama need me and I won’t fail her
When she need somethin’, what you think I’m gon’ tell her
Even the mid-strap and my Kevlar
Know we just set raw, we don’t steal cars
We don’t take shit, we go ape shit
Get you crossed out like my shoe laces
Nigga, learned the basics ‘fore you try to step up
I’ll die before I let you disrespect her, yessir
Quarter mill in the Tesla, gas her up
Had a whip should out of pressure, yessir
The chopper come with me wherever I go
And the pot big shit, hand on the Bible
Hand on rifle, make me pipe up
You new niggas ain’t shit like us
Ain’t that none of the shit you write up
They ought to disqualify your cypher
My best friends are real deal lifers
Who ran these streets and earned these stripes, bruh
I earned my right to kick this shit, man
Man, I done dodged these bullets and did this shit
I been in and out of prison since ’bout 15
Ain’t nothin’ soft about this king
And ain’t nothin’ weak about this clip
And we’ll see if you really about this shit
We spendin’ old dope money with a brand new stick
Got the blueprint and the manuscript
The need to cross that line, the man you handle
Whatever you do, do not do that

[Verse 5: RaRa]
Big ol’ bag, big ol’ ass
Big ol’ knife, big ol’ rock
We don’t talk, diddy bop
Can’t stop, won’t stop
Stir the hood, move the block
Shake the cars, don’t panic
Came to win, it’s not a trend
I’m all in
I replace the shit, Harlem Shake the shit
Put it back together, I remake this shit
We can make this shit, no more basic shit
Police hate this shit, start that racin’ shit
Come and case the bitch, come back, take some shit
You no safe house and not that savin’ shit
On that Hen’, I don’t chase to face shit
Draw these guidelines and you just trace that shit
I got pool dog and not your casin’ shit
Put my game down and she embrace that shit
Money, set, drugs, found first
Beamer, Benz, and Bentley, not a verb
Bitch, you wanna see me, bring your purse
Make it worth a mil and get to work
Hustle Gang with you, yes for sure
Pistol on you with you, yes for sure
Never been a sucker, that’s for sure
Die for what I rhyme for, for sure

[Verse 6: T.I.]
You got me sadly mistaken, you got me fucked up
Wanna form a line waitin’ for me to pick my tucks up
With a new bow time, hand on mine
Did it, fly off the handle, I
Been major ever since was independent
Nigga better recognize the pistol send it
Started in the trap and did transcend it
Again and again and again I did it
Nigga, always got the shit to certify
If I did get it, feel the whereabouts
What they ought to do, do a article
Wanna diss niggas in your interview
Goin’ back and forth what I finna do
‘Cause my attitude is too centre cool
Take your main bitch, hit her with full dick
Put her ass to sleep like Benadryl
Lord time, wake her ass up
Hit her bathroom, take her raw back
I’m not fazed ’bout what thots say
Don’t give no damn ’bout a whore wrath
If a porno or a pure dab
Been to your pad, where’s your cab?
I’m a revolutionary radical
Need pussy just to take me off the war path
I see sunny days in my forecast
Homie, you don’t pay, well it’s your ass
You be goin’ home with a tore ass
With some bullet holes in your torso
Nigga, forth live for my bankrolls
While I’m kickin’ back and drinkin’ four door
While a nigga kickin’ in your door
Hold up, wait a minute, there’s more dough

[Verse 7: RaRa]
Ric Flair, got it poppin’ like Ric Flair
Rich boy, cold, bitch please
Bitch, sneeze
We’ll bless ya, we’re special
Yeah, extra, extra, read about it, bitch
You don’t like it, see about it, bitch
Never gon’ be about it, bitch
Always hate on me about a bitch
Tip found me, I was out here thuggin’
Nigga tried me, I be out here bustin’
12 iron, man, I might hit flesh
Got too many guns to be out here testin’
Aw man, I am such a player
Tryna find another me is rare
Me and your bitch get your bitch here
Won’t be spared, don’t get scared
We don’t love her, we just count her likes
Pass her to the homie, we recycle
I am somethin’ like a young Michael
Tyson, Jordan, Jackson
Dope boy, GQ special
Real nigga, bad bitch issue
Redbone, centrefold hoe
Banks sellin’ bricks and goin’ gold
Ya know it