What happens when the secret love child of Marlon Wayans, Fozzy Bear, and R&B's answer to Cirque du Soleil get together to watch Michael and Janet Jackson's "Scream" video?
No doubt with the hook up at Kim's Beauty Supply #2, Lil' Mama adds Lil Kim's old wig collection to ever growing arsenal of accessories. With her lip gloss poppin' as she flosses in the Queen Bee's Skittles themed hair pieces, it won't be long before Lil Mama finds Foxy Brown's Blackberry, and Missy's bag of Doritos and ascend to top of the female rap hierarchy (not that it requires that great a climb anymore).
I won't be jiggin' to "Shawty Get Loose" in the club, but I'm sure this will fair well at all the 8th grade dances looming. Somewhere Michael is smiling as even in Usher's absence he's still being swagger jacked. But overall it's a cool little video, though I do have one comment to make about the snap for the kids moment towards the end: Chris and Young Marlon's dip at the end. Now maybe he picked this up from one of his dancers, but this is the second video I've peeped Breezy voguing. And if you're confused, I'm not talking about Freak Nasty's "Da Dip." Turn on "Get Me Bodied." Who taught him that?
I was told that you should never poke fun at a gospel singer, because they're singing for God and it's music to God's ears. I never believed that nonsense, though. If God knows our hearts, God also knows our vocal chords, which is why Yolanda Adams is a mainstay at the Stellar Awards and Cassie has to do personal favors to talk over beats.
Enter Darryl Smith. Either this is some kind of Kirk Franklin parody, or this dude is on The Devil Is A Liar Records doing Satan's dirty work, because there is no way you can convince me that this music is about honoring anyone besides the deaf.
With all the evil in the world you would think these folks would give God a break. God is already worried about Bush and Bin Laden, but now God has to take a break to give this dude strep throat.
No, I'm not exaggerating. He truly sounds that bad. I tried to pass this link around to some of my friends so they could chime in on this, but most of them said they have no comment for fear of being booked an AirTran ticket to hell. To the homie that noticed Darryl sounded a lot like Lil Darryl: See you where the block is eternally hot, bunk buddy.
Go to his page and tell me that you think this sounds good. The only DJ that would spin this lives in hell. DJ Thorns on the 1 and 2 circle of hell. That or DJ Khaled. He'll play anything so long as you let him scream on the beginning and end of a track.
Mary buying Kendu a Chevrolet has nothing on this. This is one of the best commercials ever made. It may not have the glitz and glamor of Mr. Ray's Weave in Baltimore, but does Mr. Ray put the yee-hah in your motor and transmission? I rest my case. Bow down to greatness.
I’m the greatest rapper alive, ya dig. Talk to me like you talking to the Dahlia Lama or Papa Smurf. I’m the dream like Malcom Luther the King or whatever the fuck that n*gga name is.
I love what I do. I put my all into it so I ain’t got no choice but to get better, you know. That’s why I’m the best right now. The world needs Wayne, nah mean. But once you get on that plateau, people want to fuck with you, they want to bring you down. And ya mans and them supposed to hold you down when that happens. Like that dude, Scrappy. He knew he was eating off of Scooby, so he held his folk down.
But everybody ain’t like that. I just had to deal with so much bullshit recently. I know you heard about it. It’s like when your friends tell you one thing…that they’re going to be there for you, and then when you need them, nah mean…they flip on you. Like I told them motherfuckers last night --- if they ain’t gonna be with me no more, die.
And now they’re trying to say I’m a junkie. Weezy need to go to rehab. Weezy sippin too much drank. Wayne need to leave that dro and them pills alone. A junkie can’t do what the fuck I do. I’m like Batman, Spiderman, He-Man…all them man’s, you know. I’m like Dr. Suess with the goose, I get so high, I sleep on the roof. I am the ultimate high, understand? I am my drug, you understand me?
I don’t care what nobody think. But this junkie shit, y’know. If I was a junkie, I wouldn’t be sitting in my muthafuckin’ million-dollar bus in my 15th year at the same muthafuckin’ company and business. 15 man. That’s like 15 – 3 + 8, ain’t I great? Wait that don’t add up, but fuck it, I’m a role model. I try to tell them. So what I do about this shit?
Weezy (Please Say That Baby)
---
Wayne,
What do your nose and this poster have in common?
On second thought, you’re probably on pill #2 and bottle #3, so you’re not going to get it.
Imagine yourself on top of those. Now fill in the blank for me: ___ on that rock.
I’ll say the baby if you get it right.
I have to give it to you: I never thought you would be the one to blow up out of Cash Money. And while I admire your success, I’m not naïve enough to think that success means you’ll pass the urine test.
Now I think your problems with your friends are real, but you should focus on Wayne right now.
That’s you in just about every interview I see you in. I’ve seen you pour lean in a glass of Hawaiian punch. When you take a piss, I bet it looks like CVS had a spill on aisle four. Though I’m certain you haven’t had a cold in the last five years, that can’t be doing much for your health. Ask DJ Screw and Big Moe about that.
You smoke weed, you pop Xanax, you drink lean, and now I hear you’re blowing Britney up your nose. No wonder you’ll do a song with anyone from Soulja Boy to Boy George. You have a habit to support.
Man, wake up! I’m trying to help you. As I as I saying, you need to get it together.
I’m not sure if you realize it or not, but if you keep on going at the rate you’re going, you’ll be stuffed in a duffle bag. To be honest, I read Dr. Suess when I was a kid, so I don’t really fool with you like that, but I hate the idea of anyone squandering their success over an addiction to Robitussin.
Think of it this way:
Do you want to be the next Hov or the future:
I think the only one who will appreciate you not having any teeth is Baby.
P.S. Man, I’m sorry, I know you’re tired of folks asking, but I have to do it.
I normally don't like to post about anything unless I have specific details, but in this case, I'm just going to have to be vague, because I can't let this one go. I don't know if this song is local or not, but there is a song where the man repeatedly yells out "yer." Like, I can't quote him verbatim, but in the song I hear, "Blah blah blah, bullshit, yadda yadda, something really stupid, Louis Vuitton, money, girl you fine or something, "Yeeeer!" And then you hear it again and again. "Yeeeeeeer!" More and more."Yeeeeeeeeer!" He says it after every comment about a girl, basically. The hell is yer? That sounds like something I used to hear Marcus the spechul child at day care make whenever he would pour his pork and beans on the table to eat and play with. "My-cawl, look at the floud on the tay-bowl. Yeeeeeeer!"
Now has anyone else heard this song? I don't know who's behind it, though the odd noise maker in question mentions something about Vic Damone, if that helps. If someone can take an incoherent noise like "yer" and turn it into a song and get airplay with it, what's next? Someone stepping outside with their old Talkboy and recording pigeons? I can hear it now: "That ass chirp, chirps. Got the birds going chirp, chirp."
With all due respect to Toni Morrison, Bill Clinton is about as black as Ryan Seacrest, and even if he were an octoroon on the low, his antics over the past few weeks prove even he could benefit from a few after school specials on racial tolerance.
If Melissa Harris-Lacewell’s article on Black Americans’ love for the Clinton family being based on the myth that Blacks surged under his administration didn’t do enough to get some people to reevaluate Bill Clinton, perhaps more of his race baiting antics will.
As charming and brilliant as Bill Clinton is, he covets honesty almost as much as Britney Spears embraces sanity. He recently told NBC News, “My message has been 99.9% positive.” Perhaps, like me, he needed to hustle his way out of algebra to graduate from college, because he can’t be too good with numbers throwing out distorted stats like that.
Then again, when much of what comes out of your mouth is a distortion, you start to believe your own nonsense. On his attack-dog like stumping for his wife, the reformed chubby chaser said, “I think that when I think she’s being misrepresented, I have a right to try with factual accuracy set the record straight, which is what I’ve tried to do.” And what does Slick Willie think of his critics, like John Kerry, who claim that he’s been misrepresenting facts to demonize Obama plead his wife’s case?
“Did you notice he didn’t specify. They never do. They hurl these charges, but nothing gets specified.” Well, I can think of one thing off the bat: His mischaracterization of Barack Obama’s comments on Ronald Reagan. Saying someone had an idea isn’t the same thing as championing it. There’s your specificity, Bubba.
Now back to the race baiting. While the old 1960s, pro-establishment, let’s repeat the same old trite rhetoric over and over again until we all fall into a coma brigade that’s latched onto the Clinton campaign mouths off to the press that it was Barack Obama’s camp that took the issue of race and pushed it to the forefront of this primary season, anyone able to discern truth from bullshit can see who the true culprit is.
On Saturday, before the results, when the reporter asked Billy Boy what it said about Obama that it took two people to beat him, he responded with, “That’s just bait, too. Jesse Jackson won South Carolina twice, in ’84 and ’88. And he ran a good campaign.”
Translation: Barack Obama is Black, Negro, Colored, African American, and that other word we can’t really say out loud. He’s purposely trying to marginalize Barack Obama as the Black candidate, with the hopes that it will play off the racial prejudices that often not so subtly permeate American culture. You can play all the saxophones in the world, but the second you push the “Southern strategy” to get ahead, you have shown your true colors.
A month ago, Barack was losing to Billary in the polls in South Carolina, but I guess when the results don’t go your way, it’s better to trivialize the results. You know, 500,000 people voting doesn’t really matter when millions vote in a week.
Yes, Jesse Jackson won both caucuses (not primaries as they are now), but as usual, Bill is being misleading. Neither of Jesse’s wins were highly contested contests; the nominations were practically already secured. You can click here to read more.
Clinton’s point no doubt was to remind us for the millionth time that Barack Obama is Black. I’m put off by the fact that instead of debating the issues, Bill and Hillary would much rather play into stereotyping and fact-distorting to get ahead. That style of politics won’t win her a majority and it won’t do any of us any good. Though her campaign says they have “unintentionally” made Barack Obama “the Black candidate,” hopefully that is not the case. Their attempt to take an intelligent, immensely talented orator that speaks of hope over fear and cynicism (no, it’s not always needed) and place him in a racial box is as insulting as it is infuriating. Hopefully people won’t fall for the okie doke, and will judge the man by who he is and what he believes in and vote accordingly.
While I’m happy to see any person of color in film with a story not centered on a glock or crack pipe, I have to ask just how many more dancing and stepping stories are we going to get? How She Move is the latest movie to serve you on the yard.
Here’s the plot:
A bright young woman from a tough urban neighborhood is on the way to academic achievement at a tony private school. Her sister, an addict, overdoses and dies, which brings Raya back to the old, mean neighborhood, where her Jamaican immigrant parents struggle to eke out a living and keep their surviving daughter out of trouble.
So a chick from the hood attends some saddity private school until her parents squander her tuition money to pay for failed rehab stints for her strung out sister --- leaving the child who can past a urine test back at PS #516. Along the way she discovers that you can dance your way out of the hood into the promised land. Sound familiar? I’m sure you all have been eagerly pop locking in anticipation all week for this.
The problem with these types of films - which I discussed with my friend – is that they’re totally unbelievable. As my friend eloquently put it: “I can’t sit through a movie where people get killed at step shows; that’s like some weird stuff! That’s like Mickey and Minnie Mouse running crystal meth at Disneyland.”
Or maybe as ridiculous as the Seven Dwarfs running a hoe house, Big Bird being straight, Nanny running a sweatshop in the Muppet Babies house, or Fraggle Rock being a crack house.
Are dance competitions this intense and violent? I had no idea people could get so mad over who did the snake better to the point where they’re ready to shoot to kill. I would think a thug is too busy doing runs to practice his break dancing so he can win a chance to meet Lil’ Kim.
I get that the films teach you valuable lessons about the importance of teamwork, patience, perseverance, and Wild 'n' out Wednesday, but can’t we pop lock and drop this genre already or do we need seven more step into stardom flicks? If so, let me know, because while it may be too late for me to jig to college, I can still grab my digital camera, hit the liquor store, and slide into the club so I can twirk out ideas for a screenplay.
Check out the ghost of girl group past back on the scene, ya'll. Here is LaTavia, or as many people called her, the one with the red hair, greeting an Atlanta club crowd. You have to love anyone that's straight up enough to tell a crowd, "I was tired of being at home, by myself, in this cold ass weather." You don't get that type of honesty from Beyoncebot anymore, now do you? Thank you, Grey Goose.
According to the user who posted the video, LaTavia has an album coming. Are you excited? I always thought LaTavia had a Funky Cold Medina quality to her voice, but hey, if Michelle can release an album, why can't she? Can't wait to hear "Bug A Boo (The Bill Collector Remix)." You heard it here first.
Does anyone know her MySpace? I'm thinking about hitting her up for a possible collaboration on my album, I Can't Sing, But I Still Have Platinum Dreams. If she can go on stage and greet a crowd with, "What the f*ck is going on Atlanta?" then she shouldn't mind being the hook girl to "Kick That Hoe In The Throat." I'll even put a Beyonce blow up doll in the video if need be.
Plans to launch my rap career are coming along just fine, fine, fine, fine. It looks like I have already found my very own Memphis Bleek. Some of you may be wondering why would I choose an elderly white man to be my hypeman. What you should be asking is why wouldn't I? With him on board I now have a smoother path towards crossing over, as well as a clever way to work my second single, "Crank That Paycheck." Who else can crank their paychecks better than the dude from NBC News?
And since he's already rich, I don't really have to break the bank (or rob one) to pay him. As my lawyer as already informed me, I can pay him in street cred (thank you, Brittany). Look at David spinning --- he's down. He's getting it better than Mary. This is exactly why Mary has toned it down a little. They're not requesting "I Can Love You" on The Today Show, but they will be asking me on to appear on stage so they can watch David jig to "AIM Bitches."
The lost boys of B2K seem adamant about continuing on with As The S-Curl Turns. After watching this, I have a greater appreciation for the literates of the world. This video is living proof of the danger of allowing BET to replace Hooked on Phonics for your children.
Every other word in this video is the n-word. They say it so much to the point one wonders if the K in B2K stands for Klansman. Booger or whatever his name is, seems to at least own up to their lackluster vocabulary, telling his group mate - the one that looks like Huey (Dewey or Louie) from Ducktales - that if he was going to reveal intricate details of Chris Stokes’ touch me, tease me themed kids parties, the least he could do is go to a publicist so he won’t sound illiterate.
Darkwing Duck then responds with, “Ya’ll better be lucky I see past all this human sh*t.” Well look who’s suddenly ‘deep’ after watching Def Poetry and reading a couple MySpace bulletins. Oddly enough, I recall in previous webisodes Donald complained about not being allowed entrance into a party Chris Stokes was hosting. I had no idea getting into VIP was still a major concern in the afterlife. The one with the Boriqua hurr chimes in, though I haven’t a clue as to what he’s talking about. Oh well. It could have been worse: Little Debarge might have tried to freestyle.
Anyway, I can’t keep up with this soap opera. In a lot of ways, I feel bad for them. They seem to have been screwed by Chris Stokes, and even if their reality show gets picked up by a network, I don’t see people rushing to buy a B2K album. No one really rushed to get one when it was four of them. I feel even worse that I’ve met nine-year-olds more articulate than them. Can someone please show them how to get to Sesame Street?
As for Uncle Scrooge’s nephew, after recanting a story that clearly had a lot of truth to it, I really don’t get his purpose. He had the chance to become the face of a problem largely ignored in the Black community, but he opts to flip the script and appear on camera with his head cocked to the side (an obvious move to avoid eye contact) and call himself a liar – ruining his credibility and making it even harder for his friends Ricky and Ronnie to get ahead.
The next time you see this dude begging people to take pictures with him in the mall, bump bump bump some sense into him.
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.
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.
If you're a young black man supporting Barack Obama's candidacy, you might as well have your testicles removed and sent to Hillary Clinton. We're worthless, according to ace boon coon, Uncle Ruckus Pastor Manning. Yes, all of us student loan debt creating, church skipping, lily-white wanna being no good sell outs. Us with our pale dreams, delusions of grandeur, and disrespect for the sacrifices made by those who came before us. So shameful.
The nerve of some us, walking around saying no pork in my fork --- trying to eat white. We turned our backs on fried catfish and whiting on day old white bread drenched in hot sauce (which we all know hits the spot) for some salmon. Saddity knuckleheads. Who do we think we are? A little Crisco never hurt anybody, and even if it did, we all have to go, don't we? Why not go out in style...and chicken grease?
We want to act all high and mighty (re: white), then turn around and say we want a black President? Thankfully, Pastor Manning is here to check us. He's here to let us know that our generation, and our generation alone, is the generation that denigrated the Black female. We created prostitution all in the name of winning a Source award. We don't even have them anymore. That's what we get.
Yes, if you're between the ages 17 and 35, you have ruined the world. You created misogyny, you made it cool to say the n-word like it's the "hello" remix, and you are the reason so many of the very members of the Civil Rights generation Paston Manning is championing in this video chunked the deuce to so many of their poorer black brethren after a few laws gave them the come up they were looking for: They knew what was coming from us, and they didn't want to be bothered. Can you blame them?
Our trifling selves will not be picking Pastor Manning's next President. No we won't. We didn't live through Jim Crow, so why should we think our say matters? That voter registration card is merely a formality. It's good that Pastor Manning is saying we are irrelevant the same way our government told black people during Jim Crow. Tragic irony often provides the perspective a lazy, good for nothing, sissy black man needs.
Barack Obama doesn't care about black children in the ghetto. He isn't concerned about the plight of black prisoners. Nevermind he skipped out on working at a big law firm to work as a community organizer in the Southside of Chicago after he graduated from Harvard, and also worked to make sure all Illinois interrogations were recorded because many black men were being coerced into phony confessions. Forget of all of that, ya hear? Pastor Manning is speaking truth. You heard him: God told him all of this.
Now, I turned a blind eye to being emasculated for my political believes, and I conceded that my generation is the worst generation to have ever existed, but there is one thing the good Reverend said that I object to: the debt I accumulated during college. For the record, I still use pliers to turn the volume up on the TV, so I would appreciate my college loan debt get the respect it deserves. Can I get an amen?
This is what happens when your mother drinks MD 2020 during her pregnancy. I suppose that makes me one of the haters Soulja Boy is talking about, but I'll be that. I believe in hating outside of the box anyway.
Is this video supposed to be a tribute to the "spechul chirren" of the world ? And just why do they sound like that? Are their tongues in a coma? Someone help me understand. This video confirms that I'm officially getting older, because if this is the wave of the future, someone help me find my Sony Walkman.
Oh and the lil' claymation, PJs looking thing: It looks like Lil' Penny with down syndrome. That's a negative, homie. Then again, he has more money than me (for now at least), so he's only giving the people what they want.
The segue into "Throw Some Ds" is clever, but the subpar standards speaks volumes and reaffirms why I fear for his generation. The after school like special way of concluding the video was a nice touch, buy why learn when a bunch of screaming, incoherent ramblings, bad acting, and bugged out eyes can get you the number video one on 106 & Park and a platinum ringtone? I'm becoming a rapper. Keep thinking I'm playing, but an entry on my rap dreams is looming. After I sell a few million ringtones, you can go ahead and put the hollow-point bullet in hip hop.
I like to think I have an eclectic taste in music, but I’ve come across a number of people who seem to put me in a box. Apparently I seem like the type that listens to Coltrane all day. I discovered Coltrane a couple of years ago through a friend, and while it’s good for calming the mind, I can’t twirk to that, so I have to maintain other interests. Most people accept that my taste is all over the place, though there are still a number of songs that everyone gives me the screw face for enjoying. After I share a few of those with you, gon’ head and list a few of your own. Don’t be scared!
I already know what most of you are thinking, and let me just say, ya’ll need to quit hating. Though it may not be enough to convince me to hop on his campaign to replace the Constitution with the Ten Commandments and to teach the children of the nation that the world is flat, I must say Mike Huckabee securing Chuck Norris as a key endorser was a bit tempting to join his Flintstones fray.
When I told someone that this was one of my favorite songs, she looked at me as if I said Michael Jackson danced like a paraplegic. So maybe no one bought the gangsta image Hammer was trying to push, but so what? You didn’t have the urge to do the butterfly while watching the video? Not even a little bit? I don’t care what people say, it could be worse, I could like this:
I rest my case.
On this I will concede that I deserve your ridicule, but let me just say, I think I was ten when this song came out. Go ahead and laugh. Get it out of your system.
This is the type of song sang by women who like to poke holes in condoms, so no wonder why t was called the gold diggers national anthem. I really can’t stand materialistic people that base attraction on personal wealth, clothing, and other incidentals. True love should be based on something more solid: how pretty they are. Anyway, maybe it’s just because they sound so good singing this cluckery that I pretend this song isn’t what it really is. Speaking of chickens, I wouldn’t be surprised if you found out one of the members now works at your local KFC.
I know I’m not supposed to like this song because at the time, everyone swore Nasir knew better, but what can you do? It’s not like anything on Illmatic, but it’s catchy. If you're wondering, yes, I know I'm wrong.
Maybe the topic of masturbation wasn’t the best way to push a possible solo career, but I enjoyed T-Bone’s solo endeavor. I was looking forward to the female Tone Loc getting a solo album. The remix was hot, too. Shame on everyone that didn’t support this song: Dreamkillers.
LaToya sings and dances like her throat, arms, and legs are all trying to run away from her, but this is one of those songs you turn on when you’re feeling down. It’s that perfect mixture of hilarity and awfulness that makes you realize that no matter how bad things get, it could be worse: you could be LaToya Jackson’s music career. By the way: Notice LaToya and Janet share a love for the phrase "big backdoor."
How can anyone not bump this? I’m going to have this played at my funeral along with “Roni,” “Get It Ready Ready (where are the bounce fans?),” and a Jodeci song to be determined. Can someone get this screwed and chopped for me?
I’m not a Weezy Pops E to F Baby fan, but I like the song and only because of the hook - which he is responsible for. Sidenote: Someone should tell him to take his own advice, y’know with his Bentley being in prison and all.
She has about as much natural musical talent as a person that’s been dead for twenty years, but the song is so finely crafted not even a gorgeous yet borderline tone deaf model could ruin it.
I really hope no one holds this entry against on all future album reviews I pen.For anyone that does:
Bah.
Oh yeah, shout out to Della Reese for the “Touched By An Angel” theme song and Oprah, for “Run On, Run On.” My iPod is waiting for both.
Is there some sort of Christmas remix that I don’t know about, or did these people just buy some Christmas lights on clearance and decide to celebrate a little late --- and threw a heart on a tree to throw people off? On my way home from the gym, I passed a house that was lit up with the holiday spirit ---albeit about a month late. My brother pointed out that maybe it’s for Valentine’s Day. I suppose that explains the heart, but huh? When did people start putting up lights in celebration of Valentine’s Day? Is Hallmark on a new hustle? Then again, this could be a clever way to lure children to the new Cool Cup house. Help me out, ya’ll, because I put myself at risk of being shot for walking in their yard to take a picture of this.
When much of your success is attributed to lucid sexuality, what becomes of your career once your sex appeal begins to wane? Launching her career with the now infamous promotional poster that saw the space between her legs measure as wide as the distance between NY and LA (or Bobby Brown's teeth), Lil' Kim (along with Foxy Brown) kicked off a new era of rap where women were just as graphic and blunt about their sexual appetites and prowesses as their male counterparts. Kim unapologetically pimped her pint-size frame to secure a larger than life celebrity where men the world over - and at one point even Diana Ross - became enticed by her overt display of sexulity.
However, over the years, label politics, rap beefs, the loss of her support system, and noted legal woes have tainted the star of rap's Queen Bitch --- forcing Kim to straddle along the line of relevance and fading celebrity that may only be mildly salvaged by reality TV. Poised to make a comeback, Kim has managed to latch herself onto a top ten hit (Keyshia Cole's "Let It Go"), a few homemade but internet buzz-generating remixes ("Gimmie More," "Sensual Seduction") and a fan-appeasing mixtape designed to remind people that not only is Lil' Kim back (or still alive), she's ready to snatch her crown back.
Though musically, she's on the right path, offering some of her best bars in years, there's an elephant in the room that not many people seem to want to discuss openly: the fact that Lil' Kim's sex appeal is almost as dead as she is in the picture above. Thanks to botched surgeries that suggest Kim received her operations on the set of Saw, Kim has gone from pin up girl to public spectacle.
Kim's shtick for years has been her gift of gab of all things sexual. So, the question of the day is, can you profit off of talk of the power of the p-u-s-s-y if some people now view you as a d-e-m-o-n?
Harlem readers, I’m going to need ya’ll to pull this cat to the side: Not only is he not living right, but dude has a serious case of Nutty Negro Itis so bad I bet his breath smells worse than Britney Spears’ life.
The man in question is Pastor James David Manning of the ATLAH World Ministries in Harlem. Personally, I think the Harlem community would be better served with another Crown Fried Chicken in the space Manning’s cult of worship currently occupies.
If you take a look at the church’s website, the ex-con shares the story of how he found a new hustle his calling as a preacher.
He was walking in Brooklyn and found his way to Prospect Park. He saw two (2) men playing chess in the middle of the meadow. They were playing at a picnic table. He liked chess so he was drawn to the table. One man was taller than the other, and they wore army-navy gear. The moment he stepped to the table, the taller man told Pastor Manning, "Your name is James, and you are a preacher."
Pastor Manning states that he felt like anything but a preacher. Why? He had on prison clothes, $ .50 in his pocket, and he looked like anything but a preacher. This man knew eveything about Pastor Manning. He said his name was "King Totally Good Joseph," and he instructed Pastor Manning in his ministry to speak only good words.
Translation: He was in the park shooting dice when a crack head rolled up on him and mouthed a bunch of nothing hoping to get that 50 cents hiding in his pocket and add it to his “Pipe Dreams” fund. Like a sucker, Manning then decided to make a living off of even bigger ones.
These “good words” the “angels” instructed Manning to share with the gullible seem like nothing more than a tribute to the dumb, ignorant, and dimwitted.
The way the Negro people are turning against Hillary and Bill Clinton these days for Obama is unprecedented.
You see how unreliable and unfaithful and fickle the Negro people are? They left you for that half-white boy. You see how they are?
In other words:
While watching this, I felt like I was going to hear something about that “no good Harriet Tubman causing trouble” at any second. As for “they,” does this man not realize he looks as Black as collard greens. He is aware that he’s a starting player in the Negro leagues, right?
Obama got a white mama. Now this isn’t racist or anything. Praise the Lord.
It’s a little bit racist, but far more stupid. And leave the Lord out of this. Attributing God’s name to this nonsense is asking for a lightning bolt to be Fedexed to your skull.
They are fighting for their lives because you are not stable. You’re not trustworthy.
How dare anyone go against Master Willie and Miss Hillary? They should’ve never gave us silly coloreds voter registration forms, huh, boss?
Isn’t it interesting that when a man has some white blood in him that’s visible all of a sudden becomes the darling of the Negro people?
If we’re going by that logic, wouldn’t Black people just stick with the whole package? If you support Hillary Clinton, fine, but this argument borrowed from the Bob Johnson School of Reasoning isn’t all that convincing.
We are such racists that it ain’t even funny.
If anyone finds out he leaves in a glass house, feel free to throw at a rock at it.
A few months ago, I Pon de Challenge and took a hater break on Rihanna after being told it was impossible for me to give her a compliment. I think I did well.
Now I’ve been called to pay Chris Brown that same courtesy. Despite the insinuation, I do not hate Chris Brown. Sure, I’ve said he sings like his balls don’t hang, and yes, maybe I’ve laughed at the names Crust and Piss Brown a few times, but I do not hate him. I like a couple of his songs, and he seems like a really hard worker and genuinely nice person. We all should give Chris a little shine. Here are some reasons why:
Children with ADD Now Have a Hero
Instead of wasting money on putting hyperactive kids on Ritalin, people ought to now consider buying ProTools and signing them up for dance classes instead.
He’s My Brother in Big Teethdom
I can’t hate a man who, like me, smiles as if he’s kin to Bugs Bunny. Fellow munchies: We have to stick together. He, along with Monica, Julia Roberts, and Kanye West, continue to motive me so that I can one day use my two front munchers to take a big ass bite out of the game.
Your Younger Kinfolk Might Kick You in the Shin
My niece informed me that she dump Bow Wow because of his attitude in favor of Chris Brown. I think most young girls her age, along with their mothers, aunts, and a couple of their cousins and uncles would all co-sign her. Only thing is people my niece’s age are still short enough to bite and/or drop kick you in the knee caps. Ya’ll better hold the hate down. These chirren don’t play these days.
Fear Factor
For far too long Usher has been able to coast on being able to successfully out Michael Jackson his competition. Now that he’s married with child, and steadily getting older, he has to step his game up or he’ll be covering AARP magazine a bit sooner than expected. This is akin to Michael listening to Control and saying to himself, “Oh she wants to compete, does she? Well shamon then, little Damita, shamon.”
Note: Ya’ll decide which one is Janet and Michael among yourselves.
He’s An Undiscovered Genius
You’ve never seen the words, “Directed by Chris Stokes” or “Executive Produced by Chris Stokes” under his name, have you?
Athletic Ability
Back in middle school, there was a magnet program that offered concentration in dance, life sports, and gymnastics. Unfortunately, life sports was full, so my then chubby self was left with gymnastics. At the time, the only thing I can really flip around was my stomach, so outside of mastering the art of the forward and backward rolls, I didn’t excel in gymnastics. Because of that, I appreciate anyone who can backflip that well and that often. He could probably get the gold in Beijing easy. He's like the Dominique Dawes of R&B.
Now tell me you can't turn on "Kiss, Kiss" and that doesn't look like one of his performances?
Chris Is Tall People’s Savior
Some people think he’s too lanky to be slinging around like Gumby on stage, but as someone over six feet, I’m happy that Chris is actively trying to right the wrongs of Shaq.
That ain't right. Shaq's too big to do anything in the club but order the drink or push people out. Thank you, Chris. I million times thank you.
I know some of you still doubt my sincerity, but if it helps, “Winner” is my song. I’m almost certain once he stops arranging his vocals like every song is a tribute to Al B. Sure! he will only get better.
Ever since Ebony and Vanilla Chocolate decided to mesh the theme of miscegenation with public defilement and nipple rings on G-rated programming, the Superbowl half-time show has become the haven for artists whose last hits are typically between the time frame Michael Jackson rocked the jherri curl and kicked it breezy with Macaulay Culkin. Now comes word that Paula Abdul of American Idol and Zoloft fame is trying to shimmy her way on to the main stage. I remember there being talk of a Paula Abdul comeback a few years ago, but I didn't know if Paula was being straight up with me or was this merely a pharmaceutical-fueled rant by a likely crazy old cat lady in the making.
The word going around is that it just may be true.
According to tvguide.com, which first reported the possible gig, the former Laker Girl is already in rehearsals for the music video for a duet between her and Randy Jackson, which will also be the first single off of Jackson's upcoming guest-heavy album, Music Club Vol. 1.
I'm torn over whether I should be offended or thrilled that Paula Abdul might be performing at a major event in 2008. Sure, she hasn't had an album in thirteen years (shame on ya'll for not buying Head Over Heels --- "Crazy Cool" was catchy), but she is a Grammy-awarding winning artist and has sold 50 million albums (yeah, who knew?). If not her for pioneering efforts, Janet Jackson would have never found her groove and we would've never known Jenny was from the block. I think I know how I feel now.
If she's going to go through with this, she should come correct. I would be so happy if she brought out MC Skat Kat. They are the original Ashanti and Ja Rule.
Am I the only one looking forward to the possibilities?
I love Janet like she loves a buffet during her off season, and despite her last album having a direction that could only lead to a trash chute, I continue to cling on to the hope that Janet can have an Emancipation-like come back.
Then she had to go and release this video.
Clearly taking a cue from the Kelly Rowland school of video making, Janet's decided to make certain that her comeback trail still has some bumps along the way. When a song has such a high level of energy, naturally you want to have the artist behind it sit around idle for two minutes.
I don't know whose idea it was to send Janet into space, but I was expecting Marvin the Martian to show up and pop lock (JD: This was your chance at making a cameo).
As for the poor contrasts of colors found in the video, I'm assuming the director is colorblind. Who knew you can have both Helen Keller and Hype Williams as influences?
For the sake of holding on to my green card in the Rhythm Nation, I will say I enjoyed the very end of the video when she decided to dance to a dance record --- although I cant help but wonder if she was dancing in a bowl of Trix or a sexual eruption (it is Janet and all). About the dancing itself: Janet looks like she's prepping to drop bombs on some Iraqi insurgents.
I'm not going to give up hope, though. Even if I've been entertained more by two crackheads doing the butterfly to go-go music across the street from a CVS than I have by watching this video, I feel like Janet can still come back strong...as soon as she gives Rene and Tina Landon a call.
20. Can you help the cause by passing the link to 'The Cynical Ones' around on your MySpace, Facebook, and email like Karrine Steffans at a BET awards after party?
It’s you boi Bow Weezy. Look, man, I don’t really need your advice, nah mean? I got the game on lock. Multi-platinum albums? Done. Sold out tours? You know how I do. Multi-million dollar deals? Stop playing.
And as you know, me and my man, O, we just dropped Face Off, which is a crazy record. I’m talking Best of Both Worlds. Nah, dude, scratch that. It’s like…Best of the Universe. This is what the world’s been waiting on, but the wait is now over. We’re causing mass hysteria. We’re murdering the game. Feel me?
Did you cop our shit yet, my dude? So much swag in my flow, you probably catch some on contact, ya dig? I’m not playing with ya’ll, man.
But you know, now that I have your attention – and how could I not have your attention, I’m the Prince of Hip Hop – I do have one thing that’s kind of bothering me.
What’s up with all the hate? Me and O demand our respect as men. O has been selling out tours for years, and you know me, I sold out the Garden…two nights in a row. Who else has done that? Hov hasn’t. 50 didn’t. Neither has Eminem? Oh, Kanye? Nope. But I have. That’s right. ME. ME. ME.
Yo, I read that list XXL put up on their site talking about why I’ll never be taken seriously as a rapper. That’s the hate I’m talking about. I been in the game for fifteen years --- I’m on some LL Cool J shit. Where were they a couple of years ago when I had my number one records, huh? Out of all the rappers who were hot then – I’m talking 50, Jay, Kanye – I was the only one headlining my own arena tour? The only one. ME. ME. ME. They didn't say that then.
I’m used to number one, and my track record proves it. I’ve been doing this for years, but people still act like I’m still a kid. I ain’t a puppy no more. I’m grown. When are people going to give me my respect as a man?
Bow Wow
---
Dear Bow Wow,
I want to like you. Me and my niece enjoyed Roll Bounce. I’ve never thrown salt on the kiddie rap game. I wasn’t one of those naysayer’s who said you couldn’t make an escape from the puppy pound either. But, man, ever since your voice shot three octaves lower, you’ve really smelled yourself. Thank God I’m not short. That Napoleon complex seems like the short man’s herpes.
I can’t knock you for having a great sense of self-worth, but your delusions of grandeur make Jay-Z seem shy. Did you ever think that maybe if you came across a bit humbler, people wouldn’t be so quick to tear your down?
I appreciate that you distanced yourself from JD. You’re trying to prove you can do stuff on your own. I can understand you being tired of giving your publishing to him and Da Brat. You separated yourself from them to find out who you are, and that’s a big step to take as a man. Go you.
Having said that, let me give your lil’ cocky ass some perspective: When Nas was 20, he dropped Illmatic. You’re 20 and you’re recording with Omarion. See where I’m going with this?
I know, I know, little girls don’t want to see Nas dance on the Scream Face Off tour, but you’re not going to garner respect from the adult crowd if you’re still catering to their little sister (and brother on the low). It’s not the new Jay and Pissy; it’s the return of Scooby and Shaggy.
Oh yeah, Mr. My Own Man, though the name Shawntae Harris may no longer be in the credits, “swagger jacked by Lil Wayne” should. Take “Hey Baby (Jump Off)” --- a track from the album “the entire world has been waiting on.” I guess “the entire world” translates into Chris Stokes. Anyway:
“I’m young/I’m right/I’m flashy/I’m fly/So fly I’m about to take off/”
Lil’ Wayne isn’t exactly Mr. Originality either, but now Wayne’s known for his flow…and you’re biting hard on that track.
I wrote this just for you:
You rap/Like Wayne/That shit is lame/Get off his dick/Leave something for his b….
And while we’re on the subject, please get off T.I.P.’s sac, too…ASAP, ASAP.
On some other song you said, “I’m like a cold, I come and I go.” Man, if you don’t get yourself together the 21 and up crowd is about to take a permanent dose of Vicks 44 on that ass.
As for that hood shit: You’re about as hood as one of Kanye’s scarf’s. Tattoos a thug not make. You’ve had money for a while now, and I’m guessing that you’ve lived in a gated community for quite some time. That ain’t hood, Shad.
It was really decent of you to stand up for your man, Omarion in that interview. Oh when told Toure that if had a problem, he can holler at your bodyguard --- that’s gangsta, man.
Oh yeah about this: You might want to hold on to some of that, though.
What’s that you told Ballerstatus.com?
No way we can't do 500,000 the first week.Right around the holiday season and our hardcore fanbase is kids and the young girls. Christmas time is for the kids and that's what make it hype and exciting. Don't let the album be $9.99. If the album $9.99, we might mess around and do 700,000.
Ya’ll messed around and sold 107,000 on sale.
Say after the next tour you go do a couple of movies, and then try to come back as a real adult? Come back with something that’s catering to the people who buy alcohol legally. I think you can still pull it off.
And if you don’t appreciate my advice, have Omarion whisper it in your ear to you. It should probably make sense then.
With all due respect to Toni Morrison, Bill Clinton is about as black as Ryan Seacrest, and even if he were an octoroon on the low, his antics over the past few weeks prove even he could benefit from a few after school specials on racial tolerance. 
While I’m happy to see any person of color in film with a story not centered on a glock or crack pipe, I have to ask just how many more dancing and stepping stories are we going to get? How She Move is the latest movie to serve you on the yard.
I'm torn over whether I should be offended or thrilled that Paula Abdul might be performing at a major event in 2008. Sure, she hasn't had an album in thirteen years (shame on ya'll for not buying Head Over Heels --- "Crazy Cool" was catchy), but she is a Grammy-awarding winning artist and has sold 50 million albums (yeah, who knew?). If not her for pioneering efforts, Janet Jackson would have never found her groove and we would've never known Jenny was from the block. I think I know how I feel now.
1. Has Mary decided to take her look back from Keyshia Cole?
3. Doesn't it feel good to see a person of color with a legitimate chance of becoming President?
4. Would you want to be in her shoes right now?
5. How many packs of wet and wavy is in this picture?
7. What is with this dude? Sidenote: Doesn't he look like one of the kids from Ducktales (woo-ooh)?
9. Can the strike please end?
11. Is it that hard to put someone in a straight jacket?
12. Does Cedric The Entertainer have a twin sister?
13. Who would've expected her to outsell Beyonce?
14. I know she's down, but when she gon' get up?
16. Is he going to jail?
20. Can you help the cause by passing the link to 'The Cynical Ones' around on your MySpace, Facebook, and email like Karrine Steffans at a BET awards after party?
And as you know, me and my man, O, we just dropped Face Off, which is a crazy record. I’m talking Best of Both Worlds. Nah, dude, scratch that. It’s like…Best of the Universe. This is what the world’s been waiting on, but the wait is now over. We’re causing mass hysteria. We’re murdering the game. Feel me? 
