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.
[Editor's Note: The views of this column do not necessarily reflect those of SOHH.com]
Youalreadyknowwhatitiz. It’s ya boy.
It’s ya boy,
Yea that’s right it’s ya boy,
In the immortal words of Royce da 5’9, Hi Rihanna. That’s to congratulate you on what’s becoming known as the most devastating panty parts in the cosmos. The most alluring hot-box since Snoop’s tour bus. The tenth wonder of the natural world: your va-jeeeeen.
The Bajan Triangle’s been swallowing rappers and spitting out Simps since 2007. Case in point, the Simp Of All Simps, Young Simp-a, Aubrey O’Kay, made it his point to both hunt you down and cry about you on a song after the
Greatest Night Of His Life one-nighter you shared. No lie.
Ciroc Boy, the Philly maven, took his turn as is customary. And he wasn’t mad either.
But then there’s the Simp Hand Strong junior, the Platinum Blonde woman terror, Chris Brown. In efforts to bring simpin’ to new heights, he “wooed” you back.
Say, babygirl. Why’ontyou c’mawn down here and get a taste of some REEEAL simpin. I’ma mollywop ya’ one time, bruise ya up somethin’ purple and mean, then threaten yo exes, while stalking around you with my other other bottom beeeeeiiitch, Karaoke.
Well b—-h that’s yo name ain’t it!?
Not to be out-simped, The Drizzler confronted Breezy to find out the basis for all the VIP screw-facin’ he was doin in the club. But what you had na’an known was that the faithful boys from SOHH was in the building, and peeped game URRly:
It was the Teyana Taylor something party at W.i.p. Mad celebs in the spot, yo. Trey Songz was doing his Mr. Steal-yo-Girl thing in the cut. Fab stepped through at a point. Drake was seated, like, on the right-hand side of the curtained-off part, and Teyana’s crew was in between him and Chris Brown’s crew of bodyguards. Meek Mill was chillin’ with Drake for most of the night.* Then I saw Drake get up and go over to where Chris Brown was.
Man I be up all night, whole crew’s in here–I don’t really give a fuck and my excuse is that I’m young. THAT’S-WHY-I-F—-D-YO-B-TCH-YOU-PUNK-MOTHERF—-ER aaaaaaaaaawww.
*sniff* Back it up! BEEPBEEP! Like a trucker. I’m in the club witapocket fulla ONES! N’ ifyouready put ya HANDS IN THE AAAIR!
Fists swooshing over cashmere, feet slipping on Rosé, a scuffle ensued. Then–
CRASH! People start rushing toward the doors, girls are screaming in the V.I.P. ‘Stop! STOP!’ and each of the bodyguards just hauled them off. It looked like Chris got hit by a bottle on the way out.
Wait. So they got into a sweater brawl? Got promptly hemmed up by their chaperones and somebody started throwing glass bottles?
*Editor’s Note: Could Meek Mill have paid someone to throw a bottle into the melée? Or better yet, done it himself just to see it pop off? One can only dream.
New York’s 2012 Simp-lympics, ladies and gentleman. These young’uns be the Dream Team. All-World Sucker sh*t. Rather than enjoying the fact that they got the Best Badu in town,
(and yes Erykah Badu’s love-lotus has 1. converted a few n*ggas’ to Islam 2. converted those SAME n*ggas back over again 3. birthed a few styles 4. fed a goat-herding in village in Syria for 12 years running. As-Sal?mu `Alaykum.)
Rather than enjoying that, these Simps wanna have a
champagne-pissing contest in the twilight hours. Got 99 problems and b—-es is all of ‘em. Trickin’ cuz they got it. Yikes. Warring like it’s Helen of Troy.
The only thing Rihanna and Helen of Troy have in common is how many Trojans® they’ve seen. If I’m lying, I’m flyin’.
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