Don’t stop believing, Saigon
First of all, I'd just like to point out that, last night, after I published my post on how the Def Jam issue of XXL - along with the fact that there was no Freshman 10 issue this year - is a sign that the TIs have shifted their focus from hipster rap to old man rap, I was watching Toure's show Hip Hop Shop, on Fuse, and the guest was none other than motherfucking Warren G.
I almost spit out my Yellow Tail. Which would have sucked, since a) it probably would have left a stain; and b) that shit costs money. $5.49 a bottle might not be a lot of money to you, but you probably don't work a job where you occasionally have to dodge shit thrown at you by irate black women. I need every ounce of Cabernet that comes in that bottle, if I'm gonna get to sleep most nights.
I had no idea Warren G was still pursuing a career in rap music. It just seemed like some shit the TIs might try to pull, given what I've learned from going on four years now of following this shit so closely. Could it be that I'm getting to the point where I'm able to predict a TI's thought process? Maybe I can use this ability to save eight year-olds from freemason blood sacrifice. Or I suppose I could just follow Peter Rosenberg around and wait until he gets near a Chuck E. Cheese.
Anyhoo, Warren G says he's got a new album coming out, his sixth overall. Oh, really? I was aware of the mid to late '90s-era follow up to Regulate: The G-Funk Era, in which the wanton sampling of '80s R&B records had somehow managed to get even more egregious, but that's about it. Seeing him on the hip-hop shop last night, it occurred to me that I probably haven't so much as seen him on TV since the 1990s. He looks like he spent the last 10 years smoking weed and eating Cheetos.
He might need to take some workout tips from Saigon. In the time since I published yesterday's post, he's apparently gone on the radio and recorded a video for World Star, to address having been caught hounding some obscure video ho for her phone number on Twitter. The gist of his argument seems to be: why would he need to beg a women for some stank, when he's got such big biceps? If anything, she should be the one begging him!
The video begins with Saigon flexing for the camera. His arms have clearly gotten a lot bigger since that old picture from his MySpace, where he looked like one of these guys in the joint who spends a shedload of time working out, so another guy doesn't try to fuck him in his ass (make him humble). Longtime readers of this site might recall that I made reference to this picture a few years ago, when Saigon's ex-manager Sickamore used to work here.
(In the round of press Saigon did for his latest Koch Graveyard release, whenever someone asked him why his career has yet to take off, he always attributed it to bad management. He's since left Sickamore for 50 Cent's manager, Sha Money XL. It's too bad Sickamore isn't around anymore. I'd love to see him address this. I'd suggest letting him do a week of guest blogging here, but he'd probably just pull a Charlemagne tha God and tell us about everything other than what we actually want to know.)
So then Saigon introduces another video of himself, on Shade 45's morning show with Angela Yee, Sirius' budget Miss Info, who does have a somewhat better blaccent. (I believe in giving credit where credit is due.) We're led to believe that this second video will vindicate Saigon from charges of going all Keith Sweat on the kind of woman who probably wouldn't run you any more than about 15 bucks a throw, over in East Saint. But it doesn't
Saigon orders her to run down the story of what happened between the two of them, and it sounds just as pathetic as it did on Twitter. Maybe even more so. We learn that Saigon also sent her some downright nasty emails, and he doesn't try to deny it or anything. Why he even bothered to post this video, I'm not sure. The only thing I can think is that maybe he thought that, by watching this video, a brother such as myself could sympathize with his plight. Which I can.
Because I myself have often struggled to get some stank on my hanglow (shocker!), I've spent a significant amount of time now reading up on what you might call relationship strategy. And one of the things I've learned is that even guys who get the amount of pussy I'm gonna get, once I strike it rich, still have to work at it. Scoring with a lot of women is more of a numbers game than anything else. You holler at a shedload of women until you find one that's susceptible to your particular line of bullshit, then you go in for the kill. Shampoo, rinse and repeat.
You'd think there's a certain amount of money you could make, or working out you could do, to where women would realize you're a quality individual and make sweet, passionate love to you, but there isn't. That's not how a woman's mind works. It's all about persistence.