Coolio: Cranksta’s Paradise
Hmmm. I guess a nigga like Coolio needs certain amenities the airlines don’t provide to make a voyage “fantastic.”
I remember the good old days when your crew could just B.Y.O.G-pack onto the Southwest departing flight of your choosing. The former MTV Jams Countdown mainstay believes in his heart of hearts that such happy days are again upon us. Wheeeee!
We’re going to switch shit up a little this morning. How about a Negro Please for anyone who didn’t think Coolio was a crackhead?
From giving away a fucking bell pepper as a prize to clamoring, “Walk the plank Chaka Zulu,” there’s no mistaking that the man is a massive hype. In fact, the only possible mistake involves Coolio accidentally sprinkling his PCP stash on the scrimps–or strimps, depending on geographic location.
While I can’t find clearer footage, anyone who’d watched the live broadcast would recall a greasy, sweat-drenched face complete with Tyrone Biggums lips. They’d also remember the strange ramblings that accompanied the post-powdered donut binge grill. He “can rap like a motherf–.” He’s one of the 10 greatest performers of all time. He can slip a twenty rock past the shrewdest of bulletproof-weaved TSA agents…
He’s Coolio, people.
[Blogger's Note: They'd also recall Kathy Griffin coming down to where you work and knocking the dicks out of your mouth.]
Exhibit C: Bossip Loves Me
Since the new year, Bossip has posted a string of questionable, crack-flavored Coolio entries. If this chronology of crills doesn’t make you wonder, you’re probably a damn fiend yourself.
Questions? Comments? Requests? Every cross a man who didn’t deserve it? firstname.lastname@example.org
P.S.: Coolio’s right about one thing, though. These computers and all these blogs and shit don’t come from earth. Think about it.