[Editor’s Note: ‘Blogger’s Note’ has been taken over by Ron Mexico until further notice.]

“Fuck G-Unit.”Young Buck, in concert last week

“I done got outta line a little bit with you.”Young Buck crying like a bitch, 50 Cent’s speakerphone, like yesterday.

Apparently, not every backwater nigga with a talent is ready to leave the comforts of the Chitlin’ Circuit.

We all know just how cheeky a gorilla 50 Cent can be. Why would Buck allow Mr. Candy Shop the opportunity to peppermint cane his dumb ass with a Linda Tripp move like this? Even if you aren’t as politically astute as to know what the fuck I’m taking about, you’ve at least seen “The Wire.”

NEVER talk that sensitive shit on the phone, cuz. In Avon and Stringer’s case, they had to make sure not to compromise their product on the hotline. In Buck’s case, he left his balls completely out in the wind for Fitty to tear away with his new bionic dentures.

When you argue with your girlfriend, you always resist the urge to leave that sob-filled apology on her voicemail. Why? Every dude reading this shit knows exactly why. Follow through with the Carl Thomas [emotional] whine and your old “Whip Appeal” ass is sure to be the newest podcast sensation when the relationship goes all the way sour.

Instead, 50 plays this perfectly. Homie puts down his goblet for a moment to wipe the mascara from Buck’s eyes. Despite the incoherent stammering of a man who sounds like a runaway slave cornered by the meanest bounty hunters in Mississippi, Pimpin’ Curtis handles his one-time bottom bitch with a sensitivity paralleled only by Terrence “D-Jay” Howard in the waning moments of Hustle & Flow.

50 Cent: You gotta stay closer to me, Buck—so you don’t fuck up. From now on, lemme take your taxes to Goldstein.

Young Buck: [*cracking*] I know, man. I know. I’m just so confused.

50: Don’t trip on it. We in charge now… [*pause*] I want you to say it.

YB: W-we in charge. [*bursts into sobbing*] I got soooo out-of-pocket, daddy. I’m sorry. You know I’d never—

50: I know, Buck. I know.

YB: I-I didn’t know I had to pay taxes on ALL my earnings in ’06. [*sniffles*] Then, you know… Section 16B had me all fucked up.

50: That’s why I handles the bidness. I do what I do. You do what you do.

YB: Yeah. I shouldn’ta bought them chains.

50: I’m actually relieved that you called. I need you to go pick up Yayo from Laser Park.

YB: Ain’t no thang, bossman. We cool?

50: Not really. [*hangs up*]

Were there a camera set up, I’m betting the house that you’d see all 32 of 50’s new solar panels. Why not go the whole round, Fif

Let’s play a game. I want you to play this shit back again and take a swill of that Hennessey whenever you hear the word “confused.” I guarantee you’ll be fucked up by the time the clip’s done.

Speaking of fucked up, it’s one thing fuck up on the job and catch a bad one from your boss. Buck is no less a man than anyone for that. It’s another entirely to roll back like a Trojan-ENZ on the disparaging comments you made 48 hours earlier.

If 50 Cent is so much of a bitch, why is it that you can say so to everyone on earth but him?

Instead we all get to listen as you show your true fuckin colors on the hoe end of that phone.

Negro, please.

This whole shit is a scene Straight Outta Assville.

Questions? Comments? Requests? Need a discount at Laser Park? ron@ronmexicocity.com