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Thug Lovin’

I thought I had a great idea for my V-day post. I was gonna make an
indisputable list of the top 10 rap songs that all females of various
ages love. Play in their car, play in their home, play on the train,
play in the background while they do the dishes, hum along every other
word too, lean wit and rock too on the dance floor. Hip-hop music that
you could throw on in a room full of 20 ladies and they would all
gleam back at me and scream “Mixmaster YN you are the truth.”

And you know it’s never the joints that the male MC’s make
specifically for the women that they get all gaga over. I never met a
shorty who after no longer being a shorty still bumped LL Cool J’s
“I Need Love”—and there’s no slow jams allowed in the rap game. Fuck
all that sensuous shit. Misogyny rules everything around us. Besides
songs like Akineyle and Kool G Rap’s “Break a Bitch Neck” and R.A. The
Rugged Man and Biggie’s “Cunt Renaissance,” everything else is pretty
much fair game.

“Ladies rub your tits if you love hip-hop?” Don’t be surprised by the
results. Even better is a lil’ back and forth, battle of the sexes
banter found on songs like Jay-Z’s “Can I Get A…” Here the message is
clear: “Thugs don’t give chickens dough” and “Ladies got no love for
players without dubs.”

Then it hit me there’s at least one song I know that every red-blooded
beauty in the world has got love for. Method Man featuring Mary J.
Blige “You’re All I Need To Get By”—the Puff Daddy version (of

Shorty I’m there for you anytime you need me
For real girl, it’s me in your world, believe me
Nuthin’ make a man feel better than a woman
Queen with a crown that be down for whatever…

Ladies stop singing.

Truth is truth. Y’all love a rowdy Romeo. A tender brute. The idea
that the toughest guy in the room has a soft spot in his shell for you
and only you, boo. Yeah he may slip and fuck them other thing-things
on the road but you are very special. Shit, why you think ole girl
still got that Pac poster on her school locker? Why Ja Rule has some
many platinum plaques in his Jersey mansion (Yeah that nigga’s still
livin’ good at least—don’t get it twisted).

It’s the hardcore rap/R&B hybrid. That’s the way to your
snuggle-bunny’s boudoir. The ladies love melody. Singers get all the
pussy. But so do some saggy-jeans-wearing goons with the gift of gab.
So talk your talk then shut your mouth and throw that Tical on and you
just might wake up the next day with a smile on your face. Don’t say
YN never looked out for you Cro-Magnon hoe magnets. Strap up!

P.S. No one should ever really have sex to hip-hop music though. It’s
bad for you. A lil’ Sade will suffice.

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