Young Sinick

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.

You Know That I’m No Good

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?

Re: Yahh!

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’m Not Ashamed

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.

That jump off. Jinkies!

LaToya Jackson: “Just Wanna Dance”

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?

Oh, stop. The bridge is nice.

Player’s Circle featuring Lil Wayne: “Duffle Bag Boy”

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.

Cassie: “Me & U”

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.

Red Light Special

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.

Still Crushing?

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?

Uncle Ruckus Speaks

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.

Spotted at Bossip.

Can I Run It, Run 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.

Thank or Blame Janet?

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.

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?

Well She Wanted It…

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.