Find An App For That

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My e-sister from another creole, Fresh, posted this over at C+D the other day. One of the first posts I ever wrote on this blog was about Teairra Mari, mainly on how her much older handlers were tailoring her image. As fate would have it, her decent albeit overly grown, overly sexual, profanity-latent debut album failed to make an impression with audiences. Not because it wasn’t good; rather, she was a minor too young for grownups and too grown for the teens (well, making it commercially viable to them anyway).

Now that she’s grown enough to do whatever she is without blaming it on her daddy, I’m not going to tell her to get off her knees.

Nope. Not gonna do it. I’m only going to suggest to her that if she wants to go this route look into booking a field trip to Magic City and get up on game.

I feel bad for Teairra. She’s a pretty girl with a decent voice who has loads of potential. Yet, here she is failing to perform classic hoe shit tricks on stage in New York.

Teairra looks like she’s at her dude’s house playing Janet Jackson.

If someone gave me a lap dance like that I wouldn’t give them anything but a tip to go to college.

If her label won’t pay for a trip to Magic City, someone please send her some YouTube links, a Janet Jackson DVD, or even a clue if you have one to spare.

Something.

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