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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

Bad Boy Records: The East Coast Death Row

While some of my compatriots were mourning the loss of the “greatest” show of all time [1] yesterday, Shake and I were running wild at the side hustle giving thanks to (in my ever so humble opinion) the dopest artist to ever grace a microphone, Christopher Wallace, and as I do every March 9th I turn all my music-playing mediums strictly to the vocal stylings of the late, great Frank White.

Where usually I would pour out a little Boone’s Farm around this time, I’m more or less wracked with an equal combination of befuddlement and cynicism at the remains of one Bad Boy Records, and how the label that brought me so many everlasting memories during my “important” high school years – you know: those raging hormone-having, sexually frustrating, out of control puberty years – is now a shell of its former self. Blame it on shoddy behind-the-scenes deals that left Jadakiss threatening to drop a Frigidaire on Puff over the radio a few years back or the fact that his flagship artists are either doing time in the bing or taking dirt naps, but this current mish mash of crappy reality “artists” and no-talent singers should have never been the Bad Boy Records of today.

Except Cassie. She could get it five ways from Friday, even if she does sing like that one Asian exchange student that was hooting and hollering “Take My Breath Away” next door to me in college. But you know I’m racially ambiguous when it comes to getting some tang like that.

In any case, watching how Puff’s megalomaniacal tendencies shut down the careers of artists like Black Rob (who I think is one of the better storytellers of my generation), Shyne and, errr, G. Dep for his own shiny suit fantasies makes me believe that even if Biggie Smalls didn’t try to catch those slugs Bruce Leroy style and fail miserably in the process he’d have been pushed to the left so that Puff could live out his dreams of shitting on Sydney Portier’s award-winning role in that raisin movie. I figure right about now Webbie and Lil’ Boosie are lining up to stay as Fred Hampton and Huey Newton in a Black Panthers biopic, while Trina nabbed the lead role in an upcoming epic on Sojourner Truth.

I can’t really blame him entirely though. When you get TIs tossing you all kinds of cash, you’d go apeshit with the shiny suits too. Lord knows I’d be right there in my Yankees fitted and pinstripe jersey doing the Harlem Shake if some random-ass Arab tossed me a couple million to make an ass out of myself on a national stage. But then again, it’s not like I have any morals when it comes to money anyways.

[1] No disrespect Opinions, but I never dug that show.

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