Hey Boo Boo, what’s good? No we’ve never met, so this may seem awkward, but this is Rob the Music Ed. from XXL and I got something I just wanna put out there. I started hearing your name bubbling early 2008, but never really knew. Then DJ Sickamore showed up to the office with your Sucka Free mixtape. The cover was something else and the music was cool, you had a few joints on there. But I’m not the jump out the window type, feel me? I had to make sure you were here to stay. Instead I just kept my eye on you, admiring from a far.
Now my love for hip-hop femininity probably began with Lil’ Kim, but that was B.I.G.’s girl and you know how Brooklyn do; we don’t play disrespect. Then there was Lauryn. We started talkin’ to each other around the same time The Score came out and she became my official girl when The Miseducation… dropped, but then she left me for that Marley dude and has been M.I.A. ever since. Fuck it, her loss. I ain’t gonna lie ma, there were flings with Foxy, Shawnna, Trina; but not Remy though, she was dope but I heard too many lyrics about her beasting-out on dudes. (Hold your head Rem; we got stoopid love for you). Still, there was no single rap female that could completely hold me down. I got needs girl; your spit game gotta be crazy, flows gotta be wet and your sex appeal gotta be through the roof.
I guess what I’m saying is; I need a new hip-hop chick. It’s been a minute and truthfully, you’re the baddest chick out—it’s really no denying it. As I’m writing you this letter I’m bumping Beam Me Up Scotty and this shit is official tissue, sweetie. Lyrics are crazy (“I’m ’bout my money mama/And tell Michelle I got my eye on Barack Obama”), the style is stoopid (let’s see how many broads pop up with the Moni Love English accent now) and the swag is super sexy (“I never knew my titties were bigger than Pamela”- shit me either), plus you can sing (I mean you ain’t no Mary, but the melodies be poppin’).
So now the ball is in your court shorty. You gonna take this game over or what? There is a void in this rap shit and right now you cruisin’ in your lane, but can you mash the pedal? I need to see you at 100. I know you’re with Young Money and I know you’re tight with Gucci and OJ and ’em and that’s cool, but I’m ready for that Nicki Minaj shit. That Nicki Ninja shit, Nicki Lewinsky, the Black Hannah Montana, the Harajuku Barbie; feel me? The ladies need someone that they can truly relate to and the men need someone they can lust over, can this be you?
So you gonna be my hip-hop girl or not? Check yes or no.
P.S. I ain’t one of these dudes that’ll jump you off and download your album for free when it comes out; nah baby I’ma spend some dough and buy that shit when it drops. It ain’t trickin’ if you got it!
Rob the Music Ed.