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You go girl

A few weeks (possibly even months) ago I did a post here in which I listed the winners and losers of hip-hop circa 2006. It hadn’t occurred to me at the time, but I probably should’ve included hip-hop hoes in the winners column.

Granted, you’ve still got hoes like Melyssa Ford who, despite her obvious talent (most talented black woman evar?), have yet to make much of a come-up. That said, a few of these hoes are coming up big time in the ’06, threatening to make more money than the rappers they blow for a living.

Which seems counterintuitive when you think that so many of these video model-types have blown rappers and not gotten anything out of it other than the opportunity to pose for pictures holding some jig’s chain. But the key seems to be to suck someone’s dick and then flip that into a business opportunity for yourself.

Take for example famed hip-hop jizz jar Karrine Steffans a/k/a Superhead (who was discovered by XXL’s own kris ex, I’ll have you know). Her book Confessions of a Video Vixen has sold more copies than any other hip-hop book since the days of LL Cool J’s I Make My Own Rules and his since been spun off into an actual pr0n video.

That, my friends, is called “synergy.”

It’s been so successful in fact that it was announced yesterday that she’s signed deals for two more books to be released in 2007 and 2008 – a “fictionalized account of her life story” (i.e. a novel about sucking dick) and a proper sequel to Confessions called The Vixen Diaries focusing on the Hollywood actors she’s blown.

Not to be outdone, Nas’ baby’s mother Carmen Bryan is planning to release a book chronicling her own knob shine exploits. Is she on her way to becoming the next Superhead, complete with “film” spin-offs and high-priced sequels? It’s worth noting that the rappers she blew are a lot more high profile than Kool G Rap and Method Man.

Admit it, you’d probably pay to see a movie about her getting served orange juice by a stark naked Nas (no Weezy F Baby) and getting nailed by Jay-Z on the back seat of Nas’ Bentley (which is probably great for fucking in) right next to the car seat and then having to show up to Jay’s house the next day for $300 to get an abortion.

If any Hollywood producers are reading this and want me to draft a screenplay based on this nonsense, holler at your boy. Admittedly, this isn’t exactly my life’s dream as a writer, but I’m sure it’ll beat spending another holiday season at the BGM. Plus, who knows, I might even get a knob shine out of it.

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