This week the column is coming to you live and direct from Miami, where the freaks get freakier and the pervs get pervier.
One of the first things I did when I got to the MIA was go for a run. I was running from downtown Miami to South Beach, which was a lot longer than I thought it was. But anyway, on the way down, I asked myself how any of the Miami rap could be real. How could Rick Ross actually be selling all these drugs in Miami? Who would want to get high in a city like this where some of the most beautiful women in the world sleep at night (and probably with little to no clothes on)? I came to the conclusion by the time I reached the South Beach boardwalk that no one in Miami had ever done drugs because there was really no great reason to.
Then I saw it. I saw the reason why some of the good residents of Miami stay higher than George Clinton skydiving. It was possibly the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life. What I saw was this old, fat man in a bright blue Speedo walking around like he was the last human on earth. As soon as I finish this column I’m writing a letter to Rick Rawss and the governor of Miami suggesting that they legalize everything under the sun and over the sun as well, because you need it, you poor, poor citizens of the 305.
I may have also discovered what Rick Ross really does when he’s not trimming his beard and wearing sunglasses.
It’d be really hard to bring a lot of drugs in through the Port of Miami, unless you’re transporting coke like a government agent. Either Rick Ross is a fed and that’s how he stays hustling every day or he’s got some other business down there in the 305. What else could Ricky Rawss do in the water that doesn’t involve trafficking cocaine? Think about it for a second. I figured it out on my own and you need to as well.
Rick Ross hunts manatees. He’s the reason they’re a protected species. The original version of “Hustlin’” was really “Huntin’” until the Crocodile Hunter and his manager caught wind of it and shut it down by setting 100 coked-up crocodiles loose on Ricky’s front lawn. “Everyday I’m hunting them, every day, every day, every day I’m hunting them. Hunt them real hard, hunt them, hunt them real hard.” The whole food chain and life cycle of all species, for that matter, is regulated and monitored closely by the Bawss Ricky Rawss and the Carol City Cartel.
“Kill them real good, kill them, kill them real good.”
“I know National Geographic. The real National Geographic, we get pornographic.”
Hey, Bawss, the next time I’m in the 305, you and I are going to meet up for some manatee burgers.
And leaving Miami is never a good thing, unless you’re in a jail in Miami, even though I didn’t see any jails when I was out there this past week. It was time for me to get out in the field to do some reporting and run up my HipHopGame expense account, and what better week to do it than Super Bowl week?
I’m not really sure what the highlight of the week was. Here are some of the highlights:
-I met Merton Hanks, who you may remember from his neck-snapping celebrations with the 49ers. I told him who I was and reminded him that when I was in middle school I had sent him a card and he sent it back signed. The crazy part was he told me he was a fan of what I was doing and that the mixtape I did with Michael Strahan was crazy. Maybe Hip-Hop Disciples Part 19 will have to drop soon now.
-meeting Neil O’Donnell and getting a picture with him. Neil’s a good guy even though he went to Maryland.
-meeting Kurt Warner. He was one of the only good guys at the Giants camp when I interned there and I wish he still was a Giant. Besides Kurt, Ike Hilliard, Amani Toomer, Stray and Jeremy Shockey, most of the Giants weren’t that cool, for lack of a better word.
-meeting John Crotty. I played pickup ball with him once at SportsNation (Tualitin) when he was with the Trailblazers and there was the lockout. Plus he’s a Wahoo and the owner of a nasty jumpshot.
Another highlight was going to Rick Ross’ party the night before the big game. I didn’t stay the whole time, but I think I stayed long enough to see enough and get a good idea of what the event was about.
The first rule of going out is to look in the mirror. If you don’t look good, there really isn’t a need to wear tight clothes. Sexy clothes only work for sexy girls. That may sound harsh, but a lot of girls need to have some self-respect before they can expect anyone else to respect them.
And for the record, sunglasses are being abused. How the fuck do you see anything in a dark room with sunglasses? If you’re a dude wearing them in a place with females, you’re obviously not interested in looking at them. Hell, they can’t even see their own hands, so how can they see las chicas? There were so many dudes in sunglasses that I thought I was at Ray Charles’ family reunion.
Sunglasses at night is a trend that really needs to die a harsh and painful death. Wearing sunglasses at night does not make you cool or with it. It just sends a message to everyone else that you watch way too many music videos and are very influenced by what you see on TV. That also goes for those weirdos wearing tight jeans, shiny belt buckles and those fruity colors that would look better on Bruno than you. I know, I know, you just came to P.A.R.T.Y!!!!
And the party was cool. But next time HHG needs everyone to come out with more energy.
Here’s a note to all the fellas out there who are so influenced by Fat Joe that they feel the need to make it rain, make it rain, make it rain on these hoes. You can’t make it rain with five $1 bills. This old dude at the Rick Ross party threw a couple bills in the air, then watched them fall as two girls fought each other over them. He made it mist, made it mist, made it mist on these hoes.
As long as we’re talking remixes, I’m working on the official HipHopGame remix to Rich Boy’s “Throw Some D’s.” I’m teaming up with whatever pizza place wants to take their brand to the next few levels. Here’s a snippet for now:
“I just bought some sauce and dough/Throw some cheese on that pie/Throw some cheese on that pie.”
There’s more to come, but as you can see, it’s like Nancy Kerrigan’s knees – it’s got “hit” written all over it.
I’m also working on the “Go Getta” remix for Taco Bell. So far all I got is “We crap all day so we can eat all night.” If they used a talking dog, they’ll definitely use this.
As I was standing there at Rick Ross’ party with my beard slowly coming in and my sunglasses planted firmly on my face, I started to realize how empty popular Southern music is. I always thought it was wack, but I never really fully understood how incredibly empty and devoid of meaning the singles were until I was subjected to listen to them one after the other. I almost felt like I was an extra in an action movie. The only thing is, in this action movie, the plot is everybody is shooting at everybody else and the audience just stays cheering no matter what happens. There’s no villains and there’s no good guys, but dudes with guns just pop out from anywhere, blast a few shots and the audience cheers. By the time the movie’s over, you have no idea what you just watched because you had your sunglasses on but everybody around you is acting like they just saw a classic like Major League or Ace Ventura so you go along with them as you sneak back into the theater to see it again.
To everyone that’s not a New York Giant doing the Jim Jones Jumpshot, would it kill you to mix in a skyhook every now and then?
By the way, my new dance involves wearing XXXL jeans and blocking every motherfucker taking a weak set shot on every dance floor across the country. Baaaalllliiinnn? Blocked, motherfucker.
Speaking of Tru Life, some rappers who don’t like him really need some help with their humor. Just because your boys may laugh at something you say, it does not make it funny. Rule of thumb, if your necklace is shinier than your boys’, then your boys are laughing at your jokes and beating people up for you because they want that necklace. Be aware of that, because if they’ll laugh at anything, chances are nothing you say is funny. Case in point is how the Diplomats are coming at Tru Life and the Roc. Renaming Tru Life “Tru Dyke,” Peedi Crakk “Peedi Crakkhead” and Memphis Bleek “Memphis Weak” is not cool. Is that the best you can do? Memphis Weak? Are you serious? Was Memphis Hide-And-Go-Seek already taken? Memphis Drank Water And Has To Take A Leak? Memphis Beak? Memphis Reeks? Memphis Sleep? Hell, Memphis Geek would have been better than Memphis Weak.
And Tru Dyke? So that means he likes girls, right? Damn, you got him there. Maybe the tight belts are affecting Dips’ bloodflow. Come on. I expect that shit from MySpace rappers, but from Dipset? You all can do better than that. At least I hope so.
Memphis Weak? MC Serch thinks that’s a bad look.
Props to Fat Joe for being in the Goodyear Blimp this year during the Super Bowl. That dude really does know how to make it rain. I’m blaming you, Fat Joe, for the sloppy play in SB41.
The actual Super Bowl was crazy, by the way. I’ve never been to a game as big as that, and it definitely lived up to all the hype surrounding it. Somehow I got tickets that were 19 rows up from the field. Once the game got started you barely noticed the rain. Although we all knew Fat Joe was somewhere laughing at us. I was just hoping he would stop making it rain at some point.
Towards the end of the 4th quarter when it was apparent the Bears were going to lose, some Bears fans didn’t take that news too well. One dude threw down this Colts fan that was a few rows behind me and started punching him. Once fans got that dude off, his little redneck wife starts pummeling the dude, who looked like he was at the game with his father and son. Real classy, Bears fan. Most of the fans were cool, but if you beat somebody else up because your team got beat up by his team, then that definitely makes you a loser.
I stayed after the game to watch the trophy presentation in an almost-empty stadium. Why? It was the Super Bowl. I was also expecting Kanye West to run up on the stage and snatch the mic and say, “If the Chicago Bears don’t win, then the Super Bowl loses credibility. Peyton Manning, I’ve never seen you play and I’m sure you’re good, but we got Rex Grossman on our team. Sexy Rexy! And I had Pam Anderson in my video and we were jumping over canyons.” Maybe if the Bears stole some players like ‘Ye jacks beats they can make it back next year.
A guy named Lyor who resembles Lyor Cohen recently added me as a friend on MySpace. I’m not sure what’s worse, Lyor Cohen seeking my MySpace friendship or someone pretending to be Lyor seeking MySpace friendship. I wonder how all those artists at Warner Brothers would feel about Lyor worrying more about building and developing our online friendship than putting out their albums. Gravy probably thinks he’s a turkey.
But what could be worse is someone pretending to be Lyor Cohen and adding “friends.” Would creating another fake Jay-Z profile just not be cool enough? Was Oprah taken? What about Michael Jordan or Charles Barkley? I’m sure Lyor is a very cool guy, but if that’s the best person you can imitate, then you should stick to old school stuff like shooting baskets outside and riding bikes to places other than Best Buy.
Anybody who imitates somebody else on MySpace is a loser. There’s no getting around that. There is no gray area. If you spend time creating fake profiles and determining what that person’s interests are, you are a loser. The common thing to say to people who make fake profiles is, “Go get a girl and make sexy intercourse.” That’s not even an option here. Anything relating to a female can do nothing to help these Rubix-cube solving, pie-memorizing losers. I would offer to send them some girls courtesy of Pen’s Bed Stuy Best Buy (employee discount), but all they would do when they saw the girl would be to take a couple of pictures and figure out how fast they could get a profile of the girl up. At that point they would kick the girl out and while she’s gathering her things, the little rusty wheel in their brain would be spinning, trying to think of some sexytime name LesbianLisa or PriscillaDaPunaniLova (assuming those names aren’t already taken). I don’t even think an advice session with Tru Life could do much for them. They would need so much therapy and help just to get to the point where they would desire a woman that it just wouldn’t be worth it.
The Ying Yang Twins and Mr. Collipark have parted ways. So Nas was right. Hip-hop really is dead.
At least R&B is alive and kicking with R.Kels going back in the studio to do another album and possibly more chapters of “Trapped in the Closet.” I’m surprised VH1 hasn’t contacted Mr. Golden Shower for a series. I think I’m going to work on some ideas for VH1. If they’ll run what they do, they’ve got to take some of my ideas. Look out for that next week.
Also hopefully I can get Sean P’s album this week. I stopped listening to the press copy after the interview because it’s like trying to talk to these record label heads. It may go well at first, but after awhile you just can’t do it without going crazy.
I still can’t believe Jay-Z is endorsing Cherry Coke. The dude is worth almost a billion dollars and he can’t even endorse a real soda like Coca Cola or Pepsi? That’s like bringing in Dr. Dre to the Grand Hustle family and telling him he can only work with Young Dro. Next time, Jay, hold out for a real cola. No amount of money can make up for you pimping Cherry Coke to us. At least settle for Sprite or Mountain Dew. Maybe if Shop Rite gets their money up Jay can endorse their 25 cent sodas and double-coupon Thursdays.
Gotta love Snoop-a-Loop for pleading not guilty to weapons charges when he was arrested for bringing a collapsible baton into the John Wayne Airport. Easy, cowboy. I’m not a frequent flier by any means, but I do know one thing. I have never accidentally tried to sneak my collapsible baton hidden in my laptop through those x-ray machines that some old guy is watching as intensely as Poison Pen watches porn, just hoping to see an outline of a tube of toothpaste or, as Jerry Seinfeld once said, a bowling ball with a candle sticking out of it.
My point is that you don’t accidentally bring collapsible batons onto planes. Snoop, is the service on planes so bad that you have to regulate how fast you get your three mini-pretzels and cup full of ice with a little Coke mixed in? Are people taking that long in the bathroom that you feel the need to hurry them up a little? Do you really want your tray table down and your seat back during takeoff that badly that you’re willing to risk going to jail to make sure you get it? Leave all your collapsible weapons at home, get on the plane, put your seatbelt on and look out the window.
And how does Snoop get out of his house with that? Didn’t any of his guys say, “Snoop, you’re not going to smuggle your collapsible baton discretely hidden in your laptop through security again, are you? Gosh, I really hate it when you do that.” How does Snoop even get his hands on a collapsible baton? Snoop has three things he has to do in life – get high, coach football and not carry any collapsible batons when going into an airport.
If Snoop thought that a collapsible baton was okay to bring onboard, wouldn’t you hate to be the one to tell him he can’t bring any toothpaste onto the plane, assuming of course that Snoop brushes his teeth.
You also have to love the Source for trying to shut down Hip-Hop Weekly. They’re suing Hip-Hop Weekly for saying on the cover that it’s created by the founders of the Source. They’re saying it’s trademark infringement and unfair competition.
First off, the Source should be thanking HHW for even using their name on the cover. That’s free advertising. The Source should just be thankful that someone feels like mentioning their name. Treat your magazine like a virgin on prom night. Take what you can get.
And they’re also alleging unfair competition. Unfair competition? The only thing unfair in the world of magazines is how biased and crappy they all are. And that’s not unfair to the magazines because most of them are making money. It’s unfair to the readers that they have to spend their money to read about who had the most money at the end of the day to pay the mag off and write about them. Plus I’ve read both mags. HHW is more like the US Weekly of hip-hop mags. It has a lot of pictures, easy-to-read articles and lots of typos, whereas the Source doesn’t have a lot of pictures, longer articles and lots of typos.
I would stay and type some more but I really have to confirm that Lyor and I are friends before he decides that I’m really not cool enough to be his friend and I’m relegated to hanging out with Steve Rifkind and Kevin Liles instead.