Or just doownlooad it off Soundcloud.

[Video][Website]
[3.33]

Cédric Le Merrer: I have a lot of theoretical sympathy for weird stoner Miley. I even think her overlong Soundcloud album has its moments, but this is definitely not one of them. The track sounds like a hip hop preset sprayed with psychedelic farts and Miley isn’t half as inspired as a Jaden Smith tweet.
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: At this point Miley Cyrus could record Pet Sounds crossed with Beyonce crossed with Sgt. Pepper’s crossed with Off the Wall and people would still read a self-evident shittiness into the music. The VMAs are a staged spectacle, a spilling of bad blood for the bad blood god, a pop Pilgrim’s Progress in which Problematic wages GIF-war with Icon; in a sense it’s heartening that progressivism has enough momentum that Big Entertainment is using it, but it reduces politics and values to so much branding and pre-assembled opinions. At least in Dead Petz‘ case there’s only an album at stake, but as a critic I’m maybe rankled more. The album is not Miley’s Flaming Lips record (though the irony of some people talking about race while simultaneously erasing Mike Will’s work is certainly noted). It’s not an anti-pop writeoff, not with Tori Kelly and Rozzi Crane’s producer on a good third and Sarah Barthel of Phantogram, pre-huge label push. It’s not any kind of coherent statement; that would require editing. It’s not even completely bad. Dead Petz is Miley’s Funstyle, her “Under-Estimate the Girl,” her electroclash record, and I guarantee if the metadata read “Farrah Abraham” or “QT” or “Kesha” instead of “Miley Cyrus” people would lose their fucking minds. “Dooo It!” is not exactly representative, but it’s something: harmonizing talkbox taunts, ’80s Jam and Lewis drum machines, beefy synth vrooms, the same amount of insight as ICP’s “Miracles”; and a surprising swagger, and a more fascinating track than anything you’d think Hannah Montana capable of.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Distortion, old school beat box, raga melodies — Miley really doesn’t give a fuck. And is that the Flaming Lips or Tom Waits?
[6]

Micha Cavaseno: So now I know what Labanna Babylon sounds with a major label budget: more cohesive and determined, but equally boring as fuck.
[2]

Thomas Inskeep: This is once case where Butt-Head’s question “What the hell is this crap?” absolutely applies. It’s the definition of vanity project, and also evidence that Miley Cyrus needs a) more to do, b) less unsupervised time with Wayne Coyne, and c) someone around her to say “Uh, maybe that’s not the best idea” just once. This isn’t much more than a couple of people turning on a tape deck and recording “band rehearsal” while stoned beyond reason. Also, Miley, we get it: you like both getting high and saying “fuck.” Who cares? 
[0]

Patrick St. Michel: There is something admirable about someone with Miley Cyrus’ level of notoriety releasing a song so ugly, and “Dooo It!” even has a few good touches (the “peace motherfucker” bit). Yet, in the same way perfection can be boring if that’s all it is, confrontation seems wasted when it is used to remind us that, yeah, you smoke pot. This is Cyrus (and Wayne Coyne, I guess) imagining what 40-year-olds think teenagers are like, and getting extra stupid about it. Ultimately, it’s just boringly indulgent and a little too flawed.
[3]

Mo Kim: When Beyonce dropped her self-titled in 2013, it felt like coming home to an unexpected gift, ribbon-tied box wrapped in layers and layers of tissue paper that crumbled like sugar yet kept unfurling with each listen. Miley, on the other hand, crapped the remnants of her last pot cleanse into a paper bag, set it on fire, and hurled it at my doorstops, and the only nuances to be found here are just different scents of the same tired shit.
[0]

Jonathan Bogart: The crime of being unfocused and self-indulgent should not be a capital one, but that’s where the jurisprudence of pop opinion is at right now, at least for young women. (Men, as always, get away with murder.) There’s plenty to like here, from the blasted-out vocal treatment to the burbly synth hook, and I’ll take Miley’s faux rebellion over the Lips’ faux bliss any day. The end result is like a Dev & the Cataracs song that’s lain out in the humid Southern air for too long and acquired a scuzzy organic topcoat. 
[6]

Ramzi Awn: Dumb lyrics can really make or break a song. Live rock is a good sound for Miley, but her delinquency fetish is still tainting her talent. IDRGAF either tbh.  
[3]