Now that “Crank That (Soulja Boy)” has become the most downloaded song in history, T-Pain has nearly 100 songs on the Hot 100, and any and every song designed for the club has a 90% chance of becoming a platinum ringtone, I’ve reached a very important decision in my life: I’m becoming a rapper.

Yes…I’m serious.

I’ve been debating what kind of rapper I want to be, though.

Should I be one of depth, and return to the lyricism-focused days of hip hop? I could take a detour from the shallowness and materialism that consumes mainstream hip hop, and offer sociopolitical commentary that would be critically lauded and welcomed by audiences bored with what they hear on the radio.

#23 Lupe Fiasco | Lupe Fiasco's The Cool 20,498 (249,757)

Sike. I can’t pay off Visa with those sales. Besides, I have no actual talent and I don’t have the time or drive to develop any. I want to buy rims (and y’know, a car, too) and you don’t have to be in anyone’s top five to get that. So should I dumb it down? Burn my college degree so there won’t be any evidence?

Yahh bitch yahh! That is indeed Reynold’s Wrap. It will have to do until I find out if TV Johnny has a payment plan. I already have a vocoder on lay-a-way. I’m trying to find some software to make my Casio beats. I’ll be downloading, that, though. I’m too hood to pay for it.

If I were to give you the type of music you play as you walk to the library, then that means I’ll have to steal out of my mama’s purse. If I give you the type of music that you can shake your ass and/or throw your hood up to, then that means I’m going to top the countdown on 106 & Park . I’m dying to get on that show and pass Rocsi a cough drop.

I’ve been brainstorming song ideas. I made a list of every theme I need to cover to have a successful album.

I’m so hood.
I get money.
I pop bottles.
I’m rollin’.
My grill shines like this...
I have a Phantom.
My girl got a girlfriend.
I’m a dope boy.
I sell coke by the keys.
I sell weed by the pound.
I’m me.
I’m the shit.
Get low, bitch.
Make it clap, hoe.
Back that ass up, bitch.
Suck my dick.

Then there’s glocks, shining in the club, odes to strippers, the word nigga, and of course, female and gay bashing. I’ll likely cool off on the last two. I don’t want to be your typical misogynist and homophobe. I want to be an innovator: I want to hate everyone.

So far I have these working titles:

"Bitch Drive"
"Crank That Paycheck"
"Hoebitch"
"Hotsauce"
"Pump My Gas"
"AIM Bitches"
"Kick That Hoe in The Throat"
"Seasoned Like Lawry’s"
"Pregaming"
"Pass The ‘Tussin"
"E-Beef"
"Trick Named Sallie"

FYI: "Hotsauce" is a dance. Don't worry, I'll explain everything on YouTube in due time. Just to give ya’ll of a little taste, you can expect to hear clever lines like, “I pops like chicken grease, fuck with me I'm pulling out my piece” throughout the album.

And for anyone thinking, don’t quit your day job, there’s a bonus track: “I Quit My Day Job, Bitch (Dedicated to the Haters).” I’m sure there a few (hundred) doubters thinking I must have too much time on my hands. Wrong. I have too many bills on my hands. All I need are two songs to end up on everyone’s Nokia and Motorola so I can pay off my student loans. Now if you’re down for the cause, I’m looking for a hype man and a few bowlegged dancers.

Labels: young sinick