Writer. Music head. Political junkie. Pop culture whore. Funny black boy. Looking to have a voice in the world -- with a few good sponsors.
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There’s a reason why Monica’s last album sold less than a Star Jones and Al Reynolds sex tape.
When she originally hit the scene, she was the sassy teen with the grown up voice. While she may have been a little too young for her too grown attitude to some people (but not to me), her early material was arguably a lot more mature than the material she’s released in recent years – which often sounds like it’s tailored for a future soundtrack to the Maury Povich Show.
I support Monica, but I’m really over her hood obsessions. We get it, Mo: You’re trill. You like glocks, you’re from the trap, and you have a thing for dudes that force you to pawn your gold records to bail out of jail.
What ever happened to the Monica that liked to actually sing about something? It seems these days she’s content with sticking to the same old thug love mantra that’s placed a choke hold on contemporary R&B for the past several years.
This time she’s collaborating on a song with her baby daddy, Rocko, on the song “Thugs Need Love Too.”
How many more thugs need love themed songs does the world need? I thought the world accepted that thugs indeed need love, too, back in ’96?
Perhaps she’s just supporting her man, but in general, I’m tired of rapping, two stepping, hustling-referencing Monica. She’s been singing like someone that just hopped out of bucket of chicken for too long now. It’s old, and clearly not good for business. I bought The Makings of Me, but if she’s going to be dedicating her album to loving an ex-soap on a rope enthusiast again, I’m going to skip out on her album and head to Popeyes.
Can we get this Monica back before she ends up selling mixtapes out of her trunk? Please?