Kreayshawn and Dwayne Carter’s pants.

Yeah, about her...

Yeah, about her…

Rick Ross’s mortal enemy.

I had seen pictures of Bay Area rapper Kreayshawn (aka Natassia Gail Zolot) before I even knew who she was. One in particular that got my attention was of her eating a popsicle in a rather suggestive way. Another one of her smoking a blunt had me further intrigued because, well, it’s been scientifically proven that 92.7% of women who smoke blunts are extremely physically attractive. That picture’s file name, “Kreayshawn14”, caused me to do a Google search to find out exactly who this cute, unique-looking, blunt-smoking woman was.

A rapper? Huh. Instantly, Kreayshawn insults galore. She’s wack, a joke, a wannabe, and basically every adjective you can think of that would disparage a music artist, or person, in general. Despite reading so many blog posts and comments that were a complete affront to her name and talent, I still felt the need to listen to her music before casting my own opinion.

I downloaded “Kreayshawn X The Bay (Ft. V-Nasty)” on Friday and immediately chuckled. ‘Shit. I really just downloaded this,’ I thought to myself. A blunt of my own would aid the listening experience, I figured. After hearing “Gucci Gucci”, those chuckles turned to laughs. By the time I had heard the last word of “Young Black White Bitch Mobb”, I was fully baked, in tears.

I wasn’t outraged by this white girl who tossed around “nigga” so casually on songs. There was no fear that my favorite hip-hop artists would be supplanted by her “music”. Kreayshawn is not a “wigger”, whatever the hell that means. She’s just…wack. In my opinion, she’s a terrible lyricist with a cult following. You know what? That’s perfectly fine with me.


I finally watched more than a few seconds of the MTV VMAs this year. Greatly disappointing, it was. Average performance here, below-average performance there, overhyped this, overhyped that; MTV shit, basically.

Out of all of the performances, the most bizarre was easily Dwayne Carter’s. I guess he performed “John” and some other sing-songy, lovey-dovey, craptastic song. He “played” the guitar briefly before smashing it to the ground and ran around onstage shirtless, at times acting like a kid on a complete sugar high.

What got the most attention from viewers? Not his choice of songs. Not the fact that his performance was last, preceded by what I thought was a half-ass tribute to the recently departed Amy Winehouse. The rave was his…pants. White and black, leopard print, skinny jeans. Or leggings. Or jeggings. They were ultra-tight and sagged really low. Since it’s apparently gay for a man to wear such pants, people took to Twitter and blogs as if their lives depended on it. His pants didn’t garner as much online attention as Beyonce’s pregnancy reveal that night, but in the following days, they did, especially when Complex magazine (seriously, I hate nearly EVERYTHING about Complex’s online magazine) did some research and discovered that the pants he wore were actually designed for women.

Personally, I don’t give two halves of a shit what pants the man (or any other man, rather) wears. High school is in my past, and so is that unnecessarily superficial and cruel side of me. I was more irked by the fact that this clown has been rapping a bunch of nothing for the last 3 years and is still widely regarded by many as one of the genre’s best artists, if not the best. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing those pants, but I also think it’s odd and a little effeminate that so many male rappers perform while adorned with gaudy jewelry.

It’s completely and utterly pathetic that so many went crazy over the kind of pants he was wearing. That goes double for males over the age of 16. Every single person who turned into a faux comedian over his choice of attire should be more concerned that Carter has made millions while essentially defecating on an artform that thousands of other artists would literally sacrifice their lives for, to see it be more respected by the masses.

P.S. I miss Karen and the Moondance Woman!!!

P.P.S. Powder gets me hyper…

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