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While discussing how wrong and utterly stupid people can be about anything Beyoncé related, my friend La succinctly packaged my grievances by noting, “I hate that every time she does something, it means we all who pay attention and have critical thinking skills have to suffer thru think pieces from who don’t.” She added an “lol,” but my ass ain’t laughing. The thinkpieces haven’t arrived yet, but the thoughtless musings have already started.

For starters, this idea that “7/11″ sounds like something from Unapologetic. Songs like “Pour It Up” are taking cues from Juicy J and “trap,” both of which are heavily (and admittedly by producers) influenced by DJ Screw and UGK. You know, the area where Beyoncé is actually from. As someone who still occasionally writes about music, it irritates the ever living shit out of me how often people who write about music don’t know much about it. This is always true about anything southern Black related.

Even after the now perfect visual, there are some who once again want to echo this sentiment and attribute to the larger point: Beyoncé is copying Rihanna. The people who think this are more than likely the folks who had no idea about the term “ratchet” and Lil’ Boosie until they discovered Twitter. Likewise, these are people who don’t know anything about southern rap outside the shit they discovered in the aughts — so much of which is nothing more than an amalgamation of sounds from the cities of Houston, New Orleans, Dallas, and Miami. This is probably why some felt “Bow Down” was jacking A$AP Rocky, the Harlem native whose entire sound has largely been derived from the Houston rap me and Beyoncé listened to in like elementary and middle school.

Let’s just be clear that a Black girl from Houston, Texas doesn’t need to take cues from a girl born in Barbados, a man from Harlem, among others riding off a Houston influence (Hey, Aubrey Graham) on how to incorporate Screw-influenced music and otherwise hood shit into her act. Especially if said artist is from the Third Ward area of H-Tine, and most of all, has been doing “ratchet” shit before these complaining sum’bitches started dick-riding the term and proceeded to abuse to death.

Since Destiny’s Child started, Beyoncé has worked with local Houston rappers, No Limit rappers, and if you gloss over the Destiny’s Child catalog, has as many birds in her stock as a Popeye’s on MLK. Never forget that Destiny’s Child scored a crossover hit in a song like “Soldier,” which is about their love of a big dick thug. This is a song that came out after they became mainstream staples, mind you.

Beyoncé is also the girl who flipped an old DJ Jubilee sound into an R&B dance track. Perhaps some of you were blinded by the video, which was inspired by The Frug Bob Fosse’s film adaptation of the Broadway musical Sweet Charity, but that’s still New Orleans bounce you are dancing to, beloveds.

I could go on – Beyoncé breaking into the southside flow on “Kitty Kat” – but these motherfuckers don’t pay attention or listen, so why keep bothering? If anything, unlike Rihanna and many other Black acts, Beyoncé is someone whose music remained unapologetically Black more often than not in spite of the shrinking influence of “urban radio” and the pressures to join the EDM, Kid Bopz sounding bullshit one finds on those pop stations.

By the way, I also some tweet that said “7/11″ sounds like The Lonely Island’s idea of a Beyoncé song. That’s some white people shit and I’ll leave it at that. Well, I’ll add a “God bless.” There. Next.

Oh yes, there’s that lingering complaint that Beyoncé has no personality. Early interviews have long suggested otherwise. What Beyoncé did do, though, is pull back on the media in the wake of LeToya and LaTavia’s dismissal. She probably didn’t want to end up being portrayed as Diana Ross given these days the only folks who can get away with such behavior are the Katherine Heigls of the world.

I welcome constructive criticism of Beyoncé. I can think of a few areas worthy of consideration. No, I won’t share ’cause I’m not up for doing the work of lazy thinkers. However, what is and continues to be the main problem about this line of critique about Beyoncé is that it’s brainless and often comes from people who come across butt hurt by her for whatever reason. Shut up, or at least, step it up.

Anyway, all hail the biggest pop star in the world for making a music video on an iPhone 6 for a song with absolutely no structure, but is the bop…which is really the most important anyway.

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Much of last night’s episode of Love & Hip Hop: Hollywood was about choices, and in particular, a PSA to the audience on learning to stop making the wrong choices. For starters, if you allowed Soulja Boy to plant a seed in your uterus, you obviously don’t love your uterus as much you should. Similarly, if you’re constantly engaging in displays of public embarrassment over Yung Berg, you might want to go off and pursue an Amber Alert for your self-worth.

However, let’s start with Omarion, the most sensible cast member on this show. Starting directly where we left off, we greet Omarion, Apryl, and Omarion’s mama Leslie joyfully celebrating the birth of Omarion and Apryl’s first child. As Omarion put it, “I named him Mega because that’s exactly what this is: It’s mega.” It would have made more sense if he said, “I named my kid Mega ’cause while I used to love Sega Genesis, I didn’t want to be too-too obvious.”

Whatever, Omarion is rightfully elated so let’s just allow him to keep rocking.

Meanwhile, Apryl is focused on being a new mommy, but cannot shake the longstanding issues she has with her own mom. So she finally confronts her to underwhelming results. I’m merely speculating here, but from the looks of it, Apryl’s mama used to be a 1990s Halle Berry character, so it may be extremely difficult for her to give her the real on why she sent her to live with her grandmother. It’s painful for (presumed) addicts to be completely frank about their past; their children may never be as ready to hear the complete truth no matter how much they protest to hear it. If nothing else, at least Omarion’s mama is finally giving Apryl room to breathe.

I assume Omarion made sure Leslie continued to have her hair done, nails done, everything did for the sake of keeping the peace.

Speaking of parenthood, Nia revealed to Morgan that she is pregnant. Soulja Boy is the father, only as past episodes have shown, they’re not exactly in the best space. Nia is unsure about the pregnancy as a result of this, and when she finally does try to tell Soulja Boy that she is carrying his baby, he blows her off. Sadly, Nia miscarries and has to deal with the loss on her own.

Side note: Soulja Boy often seems less than sober in most of his scenes. I’m tempted to ask my mama if she can dig up the speech I wrote for D.A.R.E. back in fourth grade. Don’t worry, weed heads: I’m not including marijuana.

While she’s allegedly never high on the show, Masika must be on something to think she’s about to be the Maleficent of R&B. Now in the lap of Yung Berg, we caught a glimpse of Masika singing in the studio. No lie: The song sounded decent, but Masika’s singing voice gives Teairra Mari, first thing in the morning.

That doesn’t necessarily matter because if the beat is hot, this bird will bop, but songbird she’s not.

Anyhow, after telling Berg about the confrontation she had with Hazel E, Berg not only gives Masika the track he originally intended for Hazel, but invited Hazel to his all-white party for the sole sake of seeing Masika perform the new incarnation of the track. Hazel E comes with Ray J and offers a big “fuck you” to the dress code—showing up in all black. To be fair to Hazel, Berg, and Masika are intentionally provoking her, and she was pushed to react by Ray J.

However, Hazel is still out of her mind. This woman decided to randomly start performing her rendition of the Berg track as Masika’s version plays. I was so embarrassed for her, and that says a lot because most of us regular reality TV watchers are totally desensitized. Hazel, no man is worth this level of debasement, especially not one who can’t ride all of the best roller coasters at Six Flags and allegedly punches you when you pay for the bill his credit card when he is unable to.

As the back and forth between Hazel and Masika goes on, Teairra Mari decides to jump in a la Hazel E ’bout a week ago. Then came that random club promoter Sincere, who talks slick to Teairra. Will they learn not to try Detroit?


Teairra Mari is the star of this show. I truly hope she manages to resurrect her singing career because she could become the Crime Mob of R&B and fulfill the promise of Brooke Valentine’s one hit. I love, Tee-Tee!

Read the rest at Complex.

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Lifetime’s interpretation of the life of the late R&B singer Aaliyah was as much a tribute to her legacy as a drunk, hoarse person’s impromptu cover of “Rock the Boat” at a karaoke bar is.

Aaliyah: Princess of R&B is that bad and for numerous reasons. For starters, there are times when you don’t necessarily need a family’s involvement in a biopic to make it quality; however, when you’re making a movie depicting the life of an iconic singer, it is imperative that you have the rights to said singer’s music. The family owns said rights, they were unwilling to share, and the movie suffers heavily as a result.

The only songs the production team could secure are ones like “Journey to the Past,” which yes, Aaliyah performed at the 1998 Academy Awards but is not exactly among the first 10 songs she is best known for.  The same goes for her cover of Marvin Gaye’s “Got to Give It Up”—a track from One in a Million that did lead to a music video, though not one that anyone outside of her core fans ever cares to revisit. If they were this hard up for Aaliyah music, I would’ve advised producers to go even deeper into the crates and go beg for “Are You Ready?” from the Sunset Park soundtrack.

There were at least two songs used that we knew. Diane Warren did accept Lifetime’s check to use “The One I Gave My Heart To,” and the film did make note of Aaliyah’s brilliant rendition of “At Your Best (You Are Love).”

Unfortunately, Alexandra Shipp, who was selected to play Aaliyah after Zendaya Coleman smartly bowed out of the project, was the person whose voice we heard as opposed to the singer whose life was being chronicled (poorly). Shipp’s take on Aaliyah’s works are subpar. She simply lacks the spark of Aaliyah’s sweet soprano. But that is not a shot at Shipp; she should not have been placed in the position to sing those songs. Now with respect to Shipp’s dancing, which was also not reminiscent of Aaliyah, she probably didn’t have enough time for dance rehearsal given so much of this movie feels rushed.

Shipp is actually not the worst of the casting, though. Who made the choice to make Timbaland Gluten Free, and Missy Elliott thinner and lighter than she’s ever been? Even so, there’s some reward in making R. Kelly look more like Aaron Hall given how much of Hall’s style Kelly heavily borrowed from.

Still, the casting is bad, and the script, messy and choppy.

There are parts of this story that simply don’t match the actual trajectory of the career. There were many moments where I kept thinking aloud “If this is supposed to be in year 1996, why are we watching things that actually happened in 1998?” By the way, are we supposed to believe that after Aaliyah’s marriage to R. Kelly was annulled, she mopped around for five years later waiting for…Damon Dash?

So we’re going to gloss over the fact that she was linked to other men like Jay Z? This only reminds us that the problem with trying to make a movie about Aaliyah’s life no matter the medium—basic cable or a proposed feature film—is that not everyone wants to be completely frank about the course of her life.

Read the rest at Complex.

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As reckless as she’s been in recent years, AzealiaBanks is well aware of the ramifications of her headline-grabbing antics. In an interview with BBC One’s Zane Lowe about the surprise release of her long-delayed debut album, Broke With Expensive Taste, Banks was asked if she ever doubted whether she would fail to deliver an album. Always candid, Azealia answered, “No, I knew it would come out. I just was afraid that it would come out when people really didn’t care.”

When it comes to the people in question, the answer depends on the crowd you’re talking about. The general public has long written Azealia Banks off, and they’re never, ever getting back together with her. Stranger things have happened, but the idea of Azealia Banks becoming the sort of star Nicki Minaj is and Iggy Azalea is turning into seems virtually impossible at this point. But she doesn’t really need to be; some acts are as broad as Beyoncé, others specific as Solange.

It’s always been difficult to box Banks in, and that undoubtedly was the real point of contention between her and her now formal label, Universal. For those of us not under the pressure of making sure our million-dollar investments churn out a radio-ready hit, we’re free to just enjoy Banks being her multifaceted, notably curious, and ultra vulgar self.

Speaking of, a friend who, like me, had grown weary of Banks’ antics and missing album took a listen to the Harlem native’s debut and told me the following shortly thereafter: “This bitch is gonna make me start liking her again.”

Broke With Expensive Taste is an impressive record, and yes, very much worth the wait, but it’s so many things at once. Sometimes it’s many things in a single song—which you immediately come to understand in the song’s opener, “Idle Delilah,” a mix of dubstep and I don’t know, tourist commercial light “island” reggae music?

There’s also U.K. garbage, house, and what people consider “trap” now. (I’m a Southern rap fan. This trap will never be mine.) Banks also will unexpectedly but impressively break into rapping in Spanish. Why? Well, why not?

For the most part, it works, though there are some missteps like “Nude Beach a Go-Go,” which reminds me of the kind of corny Beach Boys music Uncle Jesse raved about so much on Full House. And while it’s certainly her most known song, “212” should’ve been left off the album and replaced with the sublime “1991” from the good EP of the same name. Or at least tweaked a la the reworked “Gimme a Chance.” The same goes for other songs that are good, i.e. “BBD,” but we’ve long heard.

The errors are minor, though.

Read the rest at Complex.

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You know when you’re feeling extremely chicken-deprived, so you rush to a Popeye’s (or whatever franchise you prefer) to recharge only to discover that they ran out of white meat, red beans and rice, and the Cajun fries are cold? That was last night’s episode of Love & Hip Hop Hollywood. Sure, I was fed, but not necessarily fulfilled.

It’s probably a good thing this show is teetering towards the end of its season run as this gang of fools is starting to remind me of a DJ Mustard beat: repetitive, but, to be fair to DJ Mustard, I dance to that same beat each time. Not so much with last night’s episode of my Southern California-centered telenovela.

The episode kicked off with Nikki being Nikki: bouncing around like she has fire ants running up and down her ass cheeks, babbling a bunch of nothing over a beef that only exists in her mind. After discovering that Masika would appear on a billboard for a club who rents its space from her parents, Nikki vowed to have Masika removed from the billboard. Unfortunately, Barbie Kardashian doesn’t have as much power as she thinks she does, but her mom did reveal that once upon a time, Masika was arrested for allegedly stealing something. You would think given that Nikki was born into money and had a doctor create the face and body she wanted that by now she’d feel secure enough to not need such intel to feel like she one-upped Masika, but alas, she’s on the waiting list for a self-esteem transplant.

In Nikki’s mind, Masika’s mugshot was ammo, only when she threw that in her face, Masika didn’t give a solitary damn—explaining that she made a mistake as a teenager and that Nikki’s spoiled, bratty ass could never understand the struggle. This happened after Teairra Mari organized a meeting of the mindless.

I love reality TV because it continues to present the false narrative that two people who barely know each other yet have beef can solve their TV-ready rift over alcoholic beverages. As if we don’t know how futile an exercise this is. God bless, though.

In any event, Teairra Mari had her own back and forth with Hazel and it was all Hazel’s fault. She was so thirsty to get in the mix with Teairra on camera that I wanted to down a liter of water in the name of her desperation. I’m surprised that future UFC champion Teairra Mari didn’t roundhouse kick her.

Hazel wanted to know if Teairra was screwing Yung Berg. She is not. Thankfully Masika reminded Hazel of the following: Teairra is not fucking Berg, Masika is not fucking Berg, and Hazel isn’t fucking Berg because Berg does not want her.

As a result of that truth serum, Hazel stormed off like a petulant child. Hazel, stop going out like this. No one should be debasing themselves for a man that small. But while we’re on Hazel, let me just say she talks like a girl who learned Black slang from BET Uncut and local access TV.

Speaking of throwbacks, Ray J is now on probation and his daddy told him that he ought to clean up his act, which includes giving Teairra Mari the closure she desires. For someone who tries to make it seem as if Teairra was nothing more than a jump off, I find it interesting that she still regularly speaks to Ray J and Brandy’s mama on the phone. I don’t know about y’all, but if you’re a cashew or almond for me, you’re never speaking to my kinfolk.

While Ray J was meeting with his new anger management counselor, Soulja Boy was pressing pause on moving in with Nia and her child. Soulja Boy told Nia that he doesn’t want her to move in because he fears for her safety. Yes, Soulja Boy doesn’t feel like Nia is safe in his house. In fact, he wants that house to be his “man cave” so he can smoke and have sex with other women. Does that make any sense? Hell no.

Read the rest at Complex.

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Teyana has come a long way as a singer. She sings with far more confidence than she did a few years ago and conveys vulnerability sweetly even if the actual lyric is especially aggressive a la “The last nigga broke my heart, you’ll probably break it, too” on “Broken Hearted Girl” featuring Fabolous.

When her aggression is more pronounced, it works just as wonderfully. It’s evident in VII’sfirst single, “Maybe,” which should be a much bigger song than it appears to be. And though Chris Brown may still be a public relations nightmare, he remains a radio staple. Now that we’re in the midst of “cuffing season,” I would advise Teyana to consider releasing her duet with Breezy, “Do Not Disturb.”

There are other “I’m horny as hell”-themed tracks, like “Dreams,” though the album version doesn’t quite work as well as the original, “Dreams of Fucking a R&B Bitch.” “Dreams” is the singer-songwriter’s equivalent of “just let me put the tip in.” I don’t know what spurred this more sanitized final version, but in the future, if you’re going to go there, just go there.

Read the rest at Complex.

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When I first laid eyes on Masika, I didn’t give a particular damn about her one way or the other. The only real thought I could muster about Masika was more of a question: “Did Janice Dickinson have a secret Black baby two or three decades ago?” The answer seems to be no, only if going by last night’s episode of Love & Hip Hop Hollywood, there’s a very strong chance that Masika is the lovechild of some Black man and one of the worst Disney villains imaginable.

Masika strikes me as the kind of person that has been jumped a couple of times in her life. Hell, she’ll probably get popped at the reunion, too. Now that she’s no longer engulfed in a love triangle with Mally Mall and human blow up doll, Nikki, she’s set her sights on Yung Berg, who apparently was her friend before she forged a superficial friendship with Hazel E.

While Hazel E complained about Berg for what feels like the billionth time, Masika slid in the following comment: “You all about the girl code, I’m all about keeping it 100.”

Translation: I will fuck your man.

Granted, Hazel was only close to Berg when had a condom on, but you get what I’m saying. Even if the relationship was mostly in your mind, Masika will discard that friendship trivia for the sake of self-interests. In this instance, her music career.

Yes, not only is she suddenly Berg’s friend, Masika is also a recording artist of some sort. About that: Masika is too slow to realize that when it comes to her “music,” women aren’t going to support a person they think betrays women. Masika is also one of those birds who doesn’t think she’s a bird, given she comes with Creole mustard as opposed to BBQ sauce. I don’t see this music thing happening for you, Masika, but best wishes on all future endeavors.

As for Hazel, in addition to dropping the hobby of creating imaginary boyfriends, she should also stop having imaginary friends – even if they come with real bodies. Beloved, you used to be a publicist before you became a rapper, right? You’ve got to know how these “industry” people work, especially if you get the suspicion that they could come with a side of pico de gallo. Masika is not your friend.

Even so, Masika’s sudden interest in Berg works in that man’s favor. You know, since his attempts at trying to sleep with Teairra Mari were dropped faster than she was from Def Jam. I’m glad Teairra Mari is seemingly getting serious about the state of her music career. She has to know she can do better than making a living getting drunk and fighting women in the club over vaginal cream usage on VH1. And while they don’t have any romantic chemistry, the track Berg produced for Teairra sounds pretty good. That said, Teairra, I hope you have reached out to DJ Mustard, too.

I can already hear it: “Mustard on the beat, ho. Te-Te’s fist on your jaw, bitch.”

Before we move on from this, let me just remind you all that Berg continues to be a five foot poster for the phrase “Who hurt you?” He is cruel and heartless. Stevie J and Peter Gunz are serial womanizers with plenty of issues, but even they don’t ever sound this casually callous.

When Masika wasn’t getting on Hazel’s nerves over Berg, Fizz was making everyone at home shake their head as he continues to try to make a family with Amanda, who has proven time and time again that she’s not ready for that. Fizz and Amanda got into a fight after Fizz found out that Amanda had breakfast with the man she cheated on him with.

Let’s recap: Amanda says she’s unsure about helping raise his child, has cheated on Fizz, and continues to hang out with the man she’s cheated on him with.

Read the rest at Complex.

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You really have to love a man to say, “Fuck an epidermal, I’m going to deliver bae’s baby in a bathtub.” That’s just the kind of woman Apryl is. Omarion was delivered this way, so Apryl wants to keep the tradition going. It’s sweet and sentimental, but I kind of wish Apryl had kept the storytelling to a minimum because I don’t think any of us needed to know that Omarion was uncircumcised.

While piecing together the final details of their natural home birth, Apryl askedOmarion if he wanted their son to be circumcised. He did, only she suggested that he do the same. His response: “You telling me I got to cut the turtle neck?”

Then she mentioned that his dick is too big and makes sex complicated. For a second there, I was feeling like I was breaking child porn laws only to remember that Omarion is my age. No matter because that was still too much.

Speaking of, Omarion did reveal to Apryl that he talked to his mom about her antics. That brought on another meeting of the minds, which also meant a big waste of Apryl’s time. Leslie thinks insulting someone is a proper way of offering help. Excuse me, sorry—Leslie was trying to “teach” Apryl something as if anyone asked her to.

Even while trying to “explain herself,” Leslie made comments like “My son says I owe you an apology, but I’m trying to figure out why.” Another one: “You’re my son’s first child’s mother.”

Apryl ultimately decided to hug that mean woman and invite her to the delivery. I expect nothing but stress and bad things to follow. Whatever happens, I’m sure Apryl will handle it. She strikes me as reasonable and thoughtful, but no pushover. Even Omarion strikes me as relatively sane—like he watched various New Edition member struggles and vowed “Not me.”

You know who else is fairly sane by this show’s standards? Soulja Boy. Nia met up with her sisters at the dance studio to tell them the news of she and Soulja Boy moving in together. At one point, one of the sisters asks whether “He’s a Soulja Boy or Soulja Man?” Actually, he appears more mature than Nia.

Nia has been dating this man “on and off for eight years,” but has never introduced him to her parents. Now, I wouldn’t do that, but it’s a different story with my family—one Iyanla can narrate. However, Nia says she never introduced Soulja Boy to Teddy Riley because she was never sure if he was serious. I don’t believe that. She seems very guarded and untrusting of others and that’s all rooted in her dad having 10 kids. Oh, Nia didn’t tell Soulja Boy she is one of 10 siblings in their eight years of dealing with each other in some capacity, but it’s Soulja Boy we only have to worry about trusting. Right.

In any event, when Teddy Riley did appear, he came with a research packet. and asked Soulja about women taping him in hotels. Shout out to Kat Stacks. He even asked if he slept with his daughter the first night. Soulja was smart to lie and say no.


This is now how this should go. You don’t need to tell your parents the intricate details of your relationship, only whatever decisions you make about it. If that.

As for the other troubled cast members, Teairra Mari was back on key. Sure, she was also lip syncing to studio audio, but there were some quality-sounding ad libs there. Even better news is that Teairra realizes that she needs to get that body and voice together.

Meanwhile, she is working with Yung Berg, who clearly wants to smash. I don’t see Teairra letting that go down. I hope she doesn’t have to snatch his chain and shove it down his throat for invading her personal space.

When she wasn’t working with Berg, she was checking on Ray J, who was throwing temper tantrums at Power 106 and getting arrested at clubs over grabbing stranger asses plus kicking in police car windows. Oh, he also spit on a cop.

Somewhere Kim Kardashian is giggling “Ha, ha, bitch.”

Teairra talks to Ray’s manager, who encourages her to reach out. Mistake. She apologized for her behavior and that ended quickly because Ray J was Petty Patty.

He went on to downplay their relationship, which is what a typical villain would do. He tried to make her look like a Hazel E. This makes him seem even more like he has a problem. Teairra didn’t punch him. Good for her.

Ray J is out here looking even worse than ever. That is quite the feat given his track record. I guess I should never question the power of alcohol. And maybe something else. Allegedly.

Read the rest at Complex.

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I should have known last night’s episode was going to be especially frustrating given it opened with Nikki, aka Barbie Kardashian, wiggling around in those yeast infection-inducing pants to listen to her on-again, off-again boyfriend,Mally Mall, lie to her again about his dealings with Masika. Mally Mal swears that they didn’t have sex if you don’t include the fellatio Masika allegedly performed on him. Could Mally Mal have just stood idle as Masika showed “what that mouth do?” Sure, but this man is clearly a liar so he’s probably had sex with her at least 52.5 times.

Mally Mal wanted to show Nikki what life was like without her so he presented her with an empty box–confirming our suspicion that he is corny as hell. After that, he gave her keys to his house (as if that will stop him from cheating). When Nikki took that as a sign of the two moving in together, Mally Mal went with the bro version of, “Whoa dere daddy-daddy.” Bless this sucker’s heart. Nikki’s got an empty refrigerator where her self-esteem’s supposed to be so she is willing to fall for anything.

She did have one request during their non-eating dinner, though: She wantedMally Mal to let Masika know whom the real bae ‘round these parts is and she wanted to be there when it went down. When the time came, Masika tried to have a sincere, adult conversation about all of it at the home she helped Mallypick. Masika wanted to make one thing clear: this man was playing both she and Nikki. So reasonable, yet so wrong for the reality show she elected to be apart of. Moments later, Nikki wiggled in and started clucking only for Masika to escort herself out. Masika was right when she described the entire ordeal as “clown shit.”

Nikki felt froggy with another cast member last night, too.

After hanging out with Teairra Mari, Nikki was informed that Morgan was showing off her pre-plastic surgery photos to mutual acquaintances for shits and giggles. Vexed, she confronted Morgan about it at a Ray J video shoot. Nikki is fake as hell, but game peeped game as she called out Morgan for being phony. When confronted, Morgan denied mocking Nikki’s before and after photos. In other words, she’s a lying ass liar on top of being messy as hell.

Here’s the thing about Nikki: Her new ass is nice if not hella Betty Boopish (re: unrealistic) in appearance. Now, when it comes to her breasts, it looks like you need to chart a cross-country flight to go from nipple to nipple because they look as far apart as NY and LA. But hey, whatever works for you, beloved.

Meanwhile, Morgan has issues with Ray J not appreciating her. However, Ray J feels she’s not particularly professional. You know, fighting on his video set and all. Based on the footage last night, I’m inclined to agree with Ray J, but then again, this is the same person who had women fighting over purses and Vagisil at his website launch party, so perhaps she’s just following your lead, Willie Jr.?

In related toxic relationship news, Hazel-E continues to serve as the poster child for clueless women. After finding out that Yung Berg reached out to Teairra Mari to record music, she throws several fits. Who told her? Masika. Yes, while at some dance class, Masika sat with Hazel-E and Moniece and proceeded to fill her in. She did this while explaining her own issue with Teairra. She didn’t, however, touch on her random fight with Nikki over the dude screwing both of them at the same damn time.

Read the rest at Complex.

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If a man says “I don’t want to commit to you” and you continue to ask him how he feels about starting a formal relationship, there are only three explanations for your lingering confusion: You suffer from hearing loss, you have a learning disability that makes it difficult for you to decipher basic-ass statements, or you’re just stubbornly stuck on stupid. Hazel E doesn’t strike me as someone suffering from the Helen Keller or the Theo Huxtable so one can only assume she’s in need of a dunce cap.

Hazel invites Yung Berg over to her new apartment where she reflects on her rift with Teairra Mari. Berg really doesn’t care, but like many men, makes just enough facial expressions and offers the right amount of mumbling to suggest he’s actually invested in the conversation. This is happening while they’re passing a bottle of Ciroc back and forth which ends how one might expect to: Hazel heading to the bed to bend over as Berg in turns follows the leader. The next morning, Hazel hits Berg with chatter about commitment and Berg makes it plain: I’m not committing to you. I don’t want a title. I’m not going to stop screwing around with other women.

Yet, Hazel says in the confessional, “We have an amazing night like last night and I’m back to being the jump off of the day. Make up your mind, dude.” He’s mind has already been made up, beloved. You just refuse to take him at his word because whenever you open your legs to him, he dives into the express lane. But that shouldn’t be surprising because Berg has admitted to being a ho, bird brain.

Suffice to say, Hazel, there is no point in asking Berg, “Don’t you think it’s time to rock with a down-ass chick or no?” when the answer is clear. By the way, who still talks like a Murder Inc. single from 2002? When Hazel said, “I can fall all the way back,” Berg instantly wrote back, “Do what you gotta do.”

I really hope this is just for additional camera time, but even then there are more respectable ways of getting shine than debasing yourself for Yung Berg. Like, say, throwing liquor bottles.

In related “This Is Not How You Handle a Relationship” news, grownup Fizz wants his girlfriend, Amanda, to move-in with him for two reasons: He wants a stepmom for his son, and it will “allow me to trust her more.” The trust issue is rooted in Amanda cheating on him in the past. Yeah, you move in with someone because you already have trust; shacking up should not be a trust-building exercise.

The same goes for Soulja Boy, who wants Niki and her son to move in to prove that he is ready to be a different kind of man. I find Soulja Boy wanting to take in someone else’s child and assist in the childrearing admirable, only Soulja Boy ought to stop being a kid himself before he tackling that responsibility. That said, I was somewhat shocked to see him astutely note that Niki’s trust issues are rooted in her dad, Teddy Riley, having nine kids with six different women. Listen, when Soulja Boy calls you out on your trust issues, you need to go sit on somebody’s couch and work your issues out.

Read the rest at Complex.

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