Unfortunately, because of the day jobs I’ve had to talk far more about sideline hoes than I’d like to. Even sadder is my observation that more and more people have become more accepting of their positions as backup ass. And then I stumble along this video clip, which makes me want to reach out and spray myself with a can of Lysol.
You don’t have to watch more than a minute of this video to get my overall sentiment: I wish President Obama could slap the taste out of this man’s mouth. Of course, that would not be very presidential of him so I’m glad he’s managed to show restraint.
Still, I really wish Barry would stop entertaining FOX News. I’m not going to make the same argument against the news station. By now if you can’t tell they’re nothing more than a propaganda factory parading themselves as a credible news station there is no hope for you.
I may still enter him in the next race draft for his animation ambitions, but I’ll admit I might have been wrong to write T-Pain off so quickly when it comes to music.
The minute I turned this song on my slim started shifting side-to-side and I was caught back in the wave of Autotune. I pray Jay and the Illuminati don’t punish me for it.
Harpo, who this woman?
Judging from the way she pronounced “YouTube” it was easy to peg her as a resident of (Baltimore) Baldamo, Murrland. Or as she and other choice locals like to call it, Bodymore, Murderland. With a nickname like that it’s no wonder the town also branded as Charm City is such a tourist haven.
Let me quit clowning before I get a bunch of hollow points left in my comment section. Some of my favorite people on Earth are from Baltimore. This girl, however, isn’t one of them.
To be fair, she’s not a bad rapper at all. She has some issues with breath control but given the size of her stomach I can understand why. That’s either a baby in her belly or a 20 piece nugget at McDonalds.
I’m trying to type this without sounding like I’m filled with tang, but dammit, why don’t some of you like this video? What’s wrong with you? What is there not to like about this video?
It’s weird? It’s Lady GaGa. Stop it. It’s too long. It’s a mini-movie, enjoy the production value you attention deficit disorder suffering doof. OK, that was a little mean, but well…ten minutes isn’t going to kill you.
I also stumbled along up this opinion via MTV News:
However, Jess Wachtel had a more cynical view of the nearly ten-minute long video. “Looks like Beyoncé and her put together a video to sell some records,” he said.
Oh my God. A pop star is trying to sell records. The world is changing so drastically. I don’t feel like I belong anymore.
This is me jiggin’ to the sounds of passionate black power chants of the 1960s on audio. Well, no, not really but let certain folks tell it this is what we do late at night whenever we gather around. I’m pretty sure Clifford H. Bell Jr. thinks this judging from the email he sent me this morning.
It read:
Play your race card you idiot!!! Spewing your (black) venom is what keeps you black people down, when are you black people going to understand that??
Whew, I feel the rage and it’s troubling my soul. Or something. When I saw this I instantly thought, “Hmm, that AOL piece I did must be up.”
Actually, it went up yesterday and I’m surprised that I only got one hateful email versus a dozen the way I do any other time I write about issues that deal with race. I always find it interesting when people get riled up about the things I say when I often have to state them in the mildest of terms. For professional sites, that is. Sometimes I have free reign to just be, but more times than not editors like the PG-13 version of me. Or G. I get it, but you know.
People get very very offended very very easily. Please read that sentence in your best Elmer Fudd voice if you can.
Anyhow, in this piece’s particular case I target black people than white. I didn’t say anything about white people per se, but I suppose when you reference systematic factors that have paved the way for the problems minorities face today some will feel a certain type of way no matter how you word it.
The topic may be a bit stale to some now, but it’s not to those currently suffering and those who sure would love to capitalize off of it.
So, if you have a moment, check me out over on AOL News by clicking here.
Then join me in singing this:
You know what? Would I be wrong if I emailed this video back to him along with the message, “Thank you, Sandra Bullock. I’m most grateful for you helping me see the error of my ways?” He sounds angry and in need of a morning jig.
I swear you would’ve thought I wrote in the article that black people need to free themselves from the man and start throwing buckets of fried chicken at them on site.
Oh, post racial America. How I love thee.
Again: Click here to read it.
When I initially heard about Freaknik: The Musical, my level of excitement rivaled my appetite for a toe nail and tuna sandwich.
So many questions lingered in my head. Why would anyone give T-Pain a cartoon? Why would you theme a cartoon on Freaknik? At 24 how would T-Pain remember Freaknik anyway?
I don’t know why I went against my better judgment and watched this. It literally took only two minutes of viewing to ask the most important question of them all: Why hasn’t anyone handed Jay-Z a glock so he could really kill auto-tune?
I don’t think Mo’Nique ever had a problem with being honored by the Academy. It seemed to be more of an issue of whether or not she would bend over backwards to be honored for something she felt should be solely based on merit. She chose not to and based on her comments in recent and not so recent interviews, she’s admittedly about the bottom line. To some people you have to give a little to get more in the long run. To others they want all that you can give them from the jump.
As I contemplate driving up the block, turning on “Toss It Up,” and pop-pop-pop that thang for student loan cash, I can’t be mad at those who select the latter in hindsight.
I only interpret Soulja Boy’s music in two extremes. Sometimes I’ll say listening to Soulja Boy is like being slapped in the head with a watermelon. And then there are times where I’ll think to myself, “Well, who doesn’t love watermelon margaritas?”
He may talk like a Hooked on Phonics failure, but if the beat goes and the alcohol flows chances are I might be indulge him in his web of foolery. I’d be lying if I denied supermanning you heauxs the very second after I found the instructional video a few years back. In fact, if I could actually remember how the dance went I’d still probably be down to do it if there’s a Flip Cam in my presence.
And then there’s “She Gotta Donk,” which I won’t dance to in public but will appreciate all those around me that choose to.
But this - this shit right here – has left some seeds in my teeth.
The main reason is the obvious: Soulja Boy raps about as good as corn chip flavored feet taste.
Granted, he’s always been the male equivalent of Trina but he’s always been clever enough to guise that with a catchy beat. The beat for this song is not bad at all, but it unfortunately doesn’t do a good enough job of distracting us from Soulja Boy and his awful lyrical content.
Let’s start with:
This right here is my swag/The girls are on me…damn/Everybody pay attention/This right here is my pretty boy swag
And then there are gems like:
I’m pretty boy swagging in the club feeling sexy…no homo.
A guy dancing around a bunch of self-professed “pretty boys” suddenly feels compelled to declare his heterosexuality after saying he feels sexy in the club? Isn’t that kind of like telling folks about your pretty boy swag? If one is OK why not the other?
Heavens to murgatroyd. I’m trying to make sense of Soulja Boy lyrics. Nevermind. To that line I say:
I demand that everyone reading this makes that same face this instant. Don’t let your judgmental co-worker sway you from doing so either.
As for the video itself, I would get on it looks like a high school project, but it’s a recession so I completely understand.
I will point out one last thing, though: This video reminds me of why I sometimes shift my lids to the side when I think about some Atlanta rappers.
In Atlanta you can have ridiculously creative acts like Outkast and Goodie Mob who combine sounds and imagery uniquely their own or you can have people like Soulja Boy who is obviously ripping off another region’s sound.
When D4L and Dem Franchize Boys took off I was instantly annoyed (but I still danced, I’m not crazy) because I knew they were ripping a Dallas sound that had been around years prior and got all the credit for it.
And Yung Joc’s debut album sounded like it was recorded down the street from Frenchy’s Chicken. Houston natives will catch that reference.
In sum, Soulja Boy needs to give Silkk The Shocker his flow back and let Dallas handle the sound if he’s unable to. This dude could’ve at least given me a new stupid dance to love for five minutes. Damn, homie, are you getting lazier on us?
Or to put things more eloquently, allow me to quote YouTube user, xXSeasameSkreetXx:
Dhis sonq is sooo MuahFxckin’ Wack. Well de’ beat is tiqht as fuhh doe. Somebodii needs ta make remix wihd it forrea.
Lyk3 r3a!!y.
Rihanna has a history of performing at the same energy level as a sedated Britney Spears. But, to her credit I think she’s trying to do better as evidenced by this performance at the Echo Awards. Has she completely succeeded yet? No, not really, but in this instance I think we should give her an A for effort. If an A is too much, just don’t give her a D for deportation.
Before your eyes shift sideways, let me make my case.
Look at how she opens the performance. She’s actually moving, ya’ll. Like, not just her lips but her actual body. Granted, she’s bending over and busting it open for a Transformer, but I’m sure Jimmy Neutron is somewhere smiling because of it. She gave robot boy hope and potentially a hard on, folks. Does that count for something?
