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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

Yung Berg Lost

With all due (dis)respect to the guy, I knew I should have sensed something fishy when Yung Berg boarded the same coach flight as my stankin’, half-broke ass to New York back in March.

See, this was back when the only thing he’d done of any significant importance (and I use that term loosely) was that “Hey Sexy Lady” song with that Latino-looking Sisqo sound-alike. Can anybody actually recite anything other than that song’s hook?

I thought not.

Anyways, I was quite comfortable knowing that this guy was well on his way to rap obscurity, until someone over at Koch had the zany idea of getting Yung Berg get into a beef with Bow Wow, then have him team up with muh’fucking Ray J, who was busy making doofy mixtapes with Kay Slay, and do a couple of songs together.

I’m not gonna front, though; I actually enjoy the travesty that is “I Like To Trick.” But I digress.

All the sudden, this muckluck is back in the public eye, and I’m getting email blasts from his handlers asking to post his music on the side hustle. Call it what you want, but that Alan Grunblatt (too easy) guy is a greedy genius.

I figured the resurgence had gotten to the Yung one’s (no Ruff Ryder weed carrier pun) head, because the next thing you know he’s talking wild reckless about fellow shitty rappers. First he made wise crack about Flo-Rida, which then got this other no-name rapper named Brisco to hop all over the Internets threatening to beat his ass. In Yung Berg’s defense, I’ve been threatened countless times over the Internets also, so it’s not like those shits are to be taken seriously.

The difference is, however, that I don’t run around thinking shit is all gravity, and I especially don’t run around thinking shit is all gravity while being a 5’7”, high-yellow dude with a gaudy chain. We’re all aware of how Yung Berg walked into Detroit, and hobbled out a few pounds and one Transformers chain lighter. You would think homeslice would keep his mouth closed after that, but since being humble isn’t hip-hop he opens his mouth in the direction of Maino last week and ends up getting the ever-loving mierda slapped out of it for his troubles.

Berg, you don’t know where you at?

Let’s make things clear: I’m not a fan of Maino. I never liked that “Rumors” song, and I particularly can’t stand that “Hi Hater” joint. However, I know waaaaaay better than to get out of pocket with some burly, scarred, heavily tattooed ex-con from Bed-Stuy.

Yung Ber… no, let me address him as a man… Christian Ward, Black man to high-yellow Black man, for the love of Vishnu, please keep your ego in the coat check every now and then. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with taking an L now and then, but being on the receiving end of an open-palmed smack on a daily basis? You would think one of his piff pocketers would tell him to pump his brakes, but as I said before, being humble isn’t hip-hop.

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