Let's Not Talk About Slapping Hoes

I’m going to admit something to you, and you’re going to judge me.  I want you to know that your judgment cannot permeate this tough, rugged exterior. I’m tough as nails, bitches, and you can keep your raised eyebrows and audible sighs to yourself.

Actually, no, wait. Please share them. I’m a sucker for a little abuse. (Ok. Seriously? Two posts in a row that talk about punishment and/or abuse? This is a whole new side to this blog. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m excited.)

Ok, where was I? Oh right.

I love hip-hop.  Seriously. I love it. 

I love how offensive it is; I love that it makes no sense, I love that it makes grown men make silly rhymes and pronounce words like ‘baby’ as ‘babay’ because it’s more badass. I love that grillz exist. 

I love that wearing a Band-Aid on your face can be cool. I love that even in all of my pasty-white glory, I get an obscene amount of joy out of shaking my ass like a poorly-endowed Beyonce while whipping my hair and making milkshakes. (We’ve talked about my dancing before. If you missed it, you can read about it here. I’m available for back up dancing anytime. Inquire inside.)

But my favourite thing about hip-hop is, hands down, the lyrics.

The beats are catchy, they’re hypnotic and they’re distracting.  That last one was the most important. By distracting listeners with make-your-hips-move beats, those motherfuckers can say anything they goddamn want to. They can tell me that they like fluffy pink slippers and sipping earl grey in their mom’s Jacuzzi, and it’ll sound fucking badass if it’s accompanied by a dirty beat and some sexy auto-tuned bitch singing about hundred dollar bills and private jets. And guess what? I’ll eat it all up with a giant fucking spoon because I love it all so much.  

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes the lyrics are hard to miss. They’re in your face like Christina Aguilara’s tits, and sometimes I’m okay with that. (The lyrics, not the tits. Ms. Aguilara needs to put those puppies to bed.)  Geniuses, such as the always-sexy Snoop Dogg, make no apologies for their disgusting, offensive, crude rhymes that make me want to shield old ladies’ ears. 

To say the very least, this dude is not subtle. Here is an excerpt from one of my latest favourite songs.

Disclaimer: It’s fucking poetry.

Can you be my doctor, can you fix me up?

Can you wipe me down, so I can lick you up?

Make you give it up, give it up 'til you say my name

Like a jersey, jersey, shittin' down the game

Make it, make it, make it wet

I wanna get you wet

Tell tell me, baby, are you wet?

I just wanna get you wet

Wet, wet

I can’t be 100% positive, but I’m pretty sure Snoop wants to make someone’s vagina wet.

I might be misreading this and making some pretty lewd assumptions, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Oh, Snoop, you sly dogg, you.

(See what I did there?)

The other great facet of hip-hop lyrics includes what I like to call ‘quick rhymes’. Awesome rappers do it effortlessly. They rhyme itch, bitch, witch, switch, snitch and junkwich* like no one’s business and you can’t even question it because they’re fucking pros.

*Why yes, junkwich is, indeed, short for ‘junk sandwich’. I’m glad you asked.

This song by the ever-talented David Guetta (Feat. Taio Cruz) is a great example of this kind of rhyming brilliance.  I never would have thought to rhyme stackin’ with slappin’. I’ll leave it to the professionals.

She got my heart jumpin'

And my adrenalin pumpin' and gunnin'

Like ain't nobody ever seen (seen seen seen…)

As a matter of fact I've seen this woman all up in my dreams

Whippin' and flippin' and stackin' and slappin'

I'm attacking after she back it up and make it DROP (Drop drop drop…)

I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve never seen a woman all up in your dreams whippin’ and flippin’, but now I’m feeling like I’m missing out on some pretty valuable life experiences.  To say the least, this is a new life goal.  Makin’ mama proud, one dream at a time!

I’m 90% sure that some of you are probably closeted rappers. Maybe only when you’re shitfaced, and maybe only when you think no one is home, but regardless, you rap the shit out of a beat and you drop it like it’s hot.

With this in mind, I’d be interested to know if any of you have any real rapping abilities. I’d request a recording and/or video, but I realize that’s probably a lot to ask and none of you love me enough to do such a grand gesture of awesomness. (Why yes, I am using guilt to get you to do something. Is it working?) IF you don’t love me enough for that, but still want to show off some of your skillz, share some of your rhymes below! I will be forever indebted to you for the joy and entertainment it will bring me.

*Disclaimer: If you wish to leave a comment, it doesn’t have to rhyme, but, you know, you’d be a lot cooler if it did rhyme. But it’s your life. These are your choices.

***

Some of you participated in my last post’s word challenge.

I want you to know that each and every one of them made me giggle to myself in public like a drunk schoolgirl.

One in particular took the cake. I’m probably biased because it mentioned boobs.

Join me in giving a round of slaps to Méthodique Boisson of Scientific Facts... I just made up!

The winning submission:

"When I think about side-boob, it penetrates my brain until I want to rub myself so much it almost feels like punishment."

I recommend reading all of the comments, though, because you guys are flippin’ brilliant.