Foreign tongues, more like.
[Video][Website]
[4.43]
Alex Ostroff: As confrontational as “I Don’t Like” in its own way, replacing brashness with ugly murkiness. Ke$ha’s not taking advantage of the dissonant and distortive capacities of Autotune anymore, so someone may as well be. It’s not exactly catchy, but it has an odd gravitational pull on me.
[6]
Patrick St. Michel: One pictures Soulja Boy seeing the response to “I Don’t Like” and immediately thinking that jumping on the Chief Keef bandwagon might help out his sagging career. One then feels sorta bad that he got stuck on a bleepy-bloop-beat track lacking any of the energy that made “I Don’t Like” interesting. Then Soulja starts rapping, and the sympathy vanishes.
[3]
Alfred Soto: The beeping track isn’t all bad, but for a full minute nothing happens while our quasi-stars clear their throats into a presentable mumble.
[2]
Anthony Easton: Soulja Boy makes me want to spend the hour after listening to him, listening to Ewan McColl or Pete Seeger, the worse kind of vacuous drivel.
[0]
Ian Mathers: It took me maybe half a minute to figure out that “Foreign Cars” starts with the chorus, not an intro and from there the song just keeps rolling, an endless, somehow foreboding loop with Keef and Soulja Boy AutoTuned just slightly off kilter, like robots with swag. You can see it in their faces in the video; this is the kind of bravado that goes hand in hand with being high as fuck.
[8]
Brad Shoup: Sosa does his usual — each line a declarative — on a digital nose flute. And somehow, by amping his partner’s approach, Soulja kills it. The rap Farrah Abraham, shuddering his AutoTune cell.
[5]
Jonathan Bradley: The song is supposedly about expensive cars, but outside of Keef admitting that it’s not his car that his girl likes, but fancy rides in general, they don’t have much to do with the song. Nor does the kush; the song’s neither luxurious nor particularly smoked out. Chief Keef and Soulja Boy are a good match though: the former’s taciturn spatters, here thickened via Auto-Tune into digital gunk, end up in a place not too far removed from the latter’s rudimentary declarations. I know what I like, and this is not that shit I don’t like.
[7]