Yung Berg: Slap Happy
What did the five fangers say to the bitch nigga?
I think you know the rest. In the event that you don't, Big Green has tied it all together pretty nicely for anyone with a middle school education.
[Blogger's Note: If you went to high school you're golden.]
As has been publicized—very well, at that—Maino slapped Yung Berg’s remaining melanin right the fuck off. Berg even admits to coming at Maino sideways, which surprises no one. Berg’s public persona seems to be in perpetual need of “a little togetherness”. I even believe the Detroit rappers when they say this little nigga was wylin out, resulting in an ass beating and removal of Energon crystals. However, Berg’s explanation for his post-slap disappearance reeks of [entirely too fucking late] damage control.
Berg looks like he’d just been slapped in his Vlad TV explanation video, doesn’t he? It’s as if Vlad just reared back and “gave him a little togetherness” before camera time.
An artist can blame his or her public disappearance on a myriad of important factors. There may have been no product or progress to discuss. [Blogger's Note: This is when rappers should be turning the camera[phone]s off.] Perhaps your emotionally unstable R&B adversary is getting help. Maybe you have nothing to say to people after becoming the rap world’s Peter Schibetta. Suggesting you went into obscurity because your management asked you to take the high road, however, is completely ludicrous.
Where was Berg’s management when he was going off on Ne-Yo? Where were they when he insulted every woman who fails the paper bag test? How about when he thrust his face into some girl’s vagina on stage and camera? One would think said management might have some advice for a “young and sexy dude” who may put off important clusters of his “young and sexy audience” with such dumb and nasty behavior.
Shit, he ends the clip by saying he patched things up with Maino shortly thereafter at a P.F. Chang’s parking lot. You know how it goes. You pull up to P.F. Chang’s in the Lambo with Pacman Jones. You dap up. Everything’s cool with your ex-convict big brother who gave you a little warrior training the day before. Sure.
I must say, hanging out with “my nigga Pacman Jones” sheds a lighthouse’s share of radiance on the matter. As if you didn’t know what kind of nigga Berg was before hearing as much.
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