1YASELF is the Hip-Hop Weekly Gazette. A shout-out from the belly of the beast. A Colt 45 toast in the champagne room. In the words of the immortal Philadelphia Freeway, aaaaall o’ y’aaaall need to one yo’self.
It’s ya main man,
It’s ya boy,
Lemme-hold-20-til-tomorrah aka Mr. Debit-Only
Shoutout to my goon squad: the n*gga Daryl Dishwater, Bones the Skinny, Hi Fructose, Rah-mel and them. Shoutout to the Jehovah’s Witnesses who caught a face-full of piff clouds as I chained the door.
So I heard Lil Wayne was in the newsroom, declaring his politics in defense of Nicki Minaj:
“I don’t know what anyone else believes, but I believe females deserve the ultimate respect at all times no matter, when or where or how,” Wayne said in an interview.
Lil Tunechi is, after all, a champion of women’s causes. In fact, a little known mission of Dwayne Carter’s: presiding over the National Organization for Women. He joined me over a swisher sweet to discuss policy, his infinite love for the ladies, and his progress in the crusade for female liberation.
Tunechi: Big Sean, y’heard-me, I’mma need you read da minutes from our last seminar: Ways to Drop Dat Azz. I felt like we rilly pushed some boundaries.
Big Sean: Drop it to the flo’, make dat azz shake. Or, depending on your situation, use the azz different.
Tunechi: You know, that got me thinkin’. On my tour bus, as I was skeet-skeet-skeet watergunnin’ a female advisor of mine, I thought: Is there a way I could f*ck every gurl in da werl? Not just duh long-haired thick redbone. Every, Single. Girl. Dat would be, in mah opinion, a great way to put light on women’s issues. I could write ‘em in my sawngz!
Drizzy: Uncah Wayne, promise you put me on the hook? I left the private jet in the heliport for you, but it need some gas and the champagne fridge EMPTY. You know how we do! Aaaawwwwwww.
Tunechi: Yea fasho. I got this “She Will” remix wrote down. It’s like a Part Two or some sh*t like dat, like da sequel to da first sh*t in a sense. Y’heard me? It go like:
Tunechi: So my new platform, as of today, is Down Wit E.O.P.P, Equal Opportunity P*ssy Poppin’. Dis is a fund-raising campaign so dat duh various exotic dancers I have employed can get duh most out of they skill set. Now, you can go on pop dat p*ssy to make a 30-dollar pledge for breast cancer. Pop that thang for multiple sclerosis prevention. I wanna make it rain for lupus care.
Birdman: Pardon my son. He workin’ out some kinks in duh plan. I’mma let his little bird wangs fly til he find a reasonable solution. Sometimes, even Daddy gotta step back.
Recently, designer Jeremy Scott denied that his shackled shoewear had any racist associations. He was inspired by an eighties toy — duh! I love it when racists piss on my leg and tell me it’s
Really, he was preparing for an event that’s been long in the works. Producers needed custom athletic apparel, big brand names and plenty of prejudice at the:
The Five-Hour Energy Plantation Games 2012
An all-out endurance contest for the oppressed yearning to breathe free. A chance for cunning slaves, crafty peasants and illegal aliens to escape their circumstances with a reputable company’s logo splashed on their backs!
Sporting the Reebok VII Concentration Camps, Palestine’s Yashua will attempt to hop that ten-foot barb-wired fence, criss-cross the landmines, and run into the town square to buy a half kilogram of pomegranates. There, he’ll hand over his passport and birth certificate to relay teammate–
Compton California’s own, Rakeem Tompkins, who’s entered the arena wearing the Adidas Runaway Zooms. With their unique aerodynamic contour, the Zooms are sure to quicken whatever police chase Rakeem gets into this week.
Editor’s Note: This is a test of the Racism Radar. It is only a test. None of the racists responsible for these conditions are present to defend themselves. Further interrogation is required.
Tompkins is a favorite in the Turnstile Broad Jump and the Mississippi Swamp Swim. Although he can’t swim, Tompkins has vowed to ‘move mah arms and legs like a mu-f*cka til somethin happen.’ Best of luck to Rakeem.
The success of the Plantation Games has inspired some unlikely partners to join hands with corporate funders. The U.S. Attorney General has agreed to sell outlawed parts of the Constitution to high bidders. At press time, President Obama revealed a display for the Nike Fugitive Slave Act at the Smithsonian Museum. Early talks suggest Gatorade looks to acquire the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and that the Emancipation Proclamation has Hershey’s name written all over it.
The Frozen One. Prince James. The Ringless King.
All sound like the most juvenile, short-sighted, insecure slurs the masses could hurl at LeBron James throughout his still young life.
While he stylishly played basketball to entertain us, we mocked his flaws, threw tomatoes and derided him for failing our expectations of Greatness.
Idol worship at its worst, we bore Witness. And when he showed himself human, we buried him, no Resurrection in mind.
A few media entities profited greatly from the staged charade, naming him G.O.A.T. prematurely so that they could then pull a scapegoat turn moments later. We ingested the stories like the Fast Food it mimicked, thoughtlessly and regrettably.
Thank goodness for the real writers of history, the people who act on absurd dreams, the hard workers, the creative victors. It’s James and other phenoms who will leave a lasting mark over time precisely because their successes far outweigh their failures. Anyone denying that is a false prophet at best, a mud-slinger at worst. And this isn’t to say LeBron (or anyone) should be excused from criticism, or that his critics are all “haters”. Not so. The LeBron James study ought to show us how wrong we’ve all been about our closeness to celebrity. We will never understand his motives, fears or plights. We can never make a fair judgment of his condition. But we can guess.
Since there are limits to guesswork, it’s best excluded from headlines and “newsworthy” material.
But we all know how that plays out for the Loser. Ask Kevin Durant this summer