Thursday, August 30, 2007
I don’t know when I got like this, but when it comes to pop culture – I don’t trust the masses.
And I haven’t for a long time.
If almost everyone I knew was saying so and so’s CD was the tightest thing out or such and such movie was the only one worth seeing this season, I almost automatically, yet unintentionally, blocked the likelihood of my even giving those projects a chance.
I don’t even think I had the power to control this myself. It’s like my media nonsense immune system has become so strong that it fights off viruses such as Soul Plane and much of the stuff that comes out of Atlanta without me even trying.
This is because years of looking at who’s on top of the music charts; the movie lists; and even the bestselling books lists (Supahead, anyone?!) makes me believe that the masses lack substance in their choices.
So you’d be surprised to hear which sitcoms I’ve never seen; which songs I’ve never heard; and which amazing artists and movies I got put on to mad late because I didn’t given them a chance until well after their probationary period.
But all of this became null and void concerning the film American Gangster.
I had the chance to see the film more than two weeks ago at the National Association of Black Journalists Convention in Las Vegas (I know some of ya’ll are tired of hearing about my trip to Vegas. I promise this’ll probably be my last Vegas-related piece … I think).
No, I will not spoil the film for you, but I’ll just say it was amazing. Period.
And while reflecting on the film shortly after leaving the theatre, I couldn’t help but to think that it almost joined the list of media that I almost missed out on.
I had very little interest in seeing American Gangster until I knew I had the chance to see it for free. (Sidenote: I’m one of those people who is forced to reconsider lots of things when the word FREE is attached.) I saw the posters for the movie before I heard anyone talking about it and thought it might be interesting. But when I read the online hype and other whispers about the film, like always, I began to be turned off.
I even ignored multiple opportunities to see the trailer. I was just that comfortable in my “I probably won’t like it” philosophy.
Had NABJ not stepped in at the right time with the hookup, I don’t know if I would have ever had the chance to experience that fine moment in pop culture. Some might say, “You see? That’s why you can’t immediately dismiss popular demand!”
But I beg to differ. The examples where nonsense reigns supreme among the majority greatly outweigh the opposite.
Surely Common’s latest project “Finding Forever” recently debuting at number one – and furthermore India.Arie’s project doing the same months ago with far less promotion – is encouraging. But a quick look at the Billboard Hot 100 charts shows that “Crank Dat (Soulja Boy);” “Bartender” AND “A Baby Baby” are ALL in the top 10 this week.
Are you serious?!
How can I find a balance between keeping those with questionable reviewing skills on mute while making sure that I don’t miss out on the gems that seep through the cracks the pop gods leave open?
Gene is a journalist in Phoenix. Check him out at YBPguide.com.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
I'll never forget it... It was a Friday afternoon of my junior year at UNC and I jumped on the campus shuttle on Franklin Street to head back to my dorm. These two girls were behind me and their conversation went something like this:
Girl 1: "Did you get up with Tony yesterday?"
Girl 2: "Yeah girl... I ain't talkin' to him no more... This nigga brought me flowers and candy! Opening doors and all that mess. Lame!"
Girl 1: "For real? loser!"
Girl 2: "I know right... I told him to take that shit elsewhere and I said it just like that!"
Girl 1: "What'd he do?"
Girl 2: "His ass left! *both laughed*.. .what was he supposed to do? A REAL nigga would've checked me..."
Obviously that wasn't verbatim, but it was pretty damn close. I remember thinking... "Woooow! these chicks got major self-esteem issues"...I brushed it off as young girls not realizing and appreciating a good dude.
AFTER college, a couple of my boys made the same mistake of taking flowers or candy (or both) to girls on their first casual outtings. Both of them couldn't figure out why the girls didn't call them back after the first meeting. It was painful to listen to them rationalize where things went wrong and not consider that maybe the flowers and candy thing might've done them in. They then would later tell me how the same girls were now with "less thoughtful" guys. Could it be they were too chivalrous?
Thinking of chivalry, a person usually recalls a time when men saved damsels in distress and women were typically uneducated. In this time long ago, a chivalrous code was developed in order to protect the helpless ladies.
In modern society, women are just as smart and independent as men, and it seems that, often times, chivalry comes off as sexism, forcing women to accept a submissive role , thereby not recognizing their independence. A relationship should be founded on the mutual benefits two people receive from each other’s company, and should consider each individuals’ personality.
Chivalry tries to define how relationships should work by assigning roles based on sex, excluding character contrasts. I'm sure sure these same girls would have appreciated these things once better rapport was established and her independence was recognized, but being too chivalrous too early seemed like a bad move.
I proposed this idea to some female friends in the past. The responses were generally the same: “I want to be independent but it’s nice to have a guy show he cares by doing things for me every so often.”
Seems hard to argue, but my point is this: a guy should do something chivalrous because he is inclined to do so after some sort of relationship is established, not because it is an expected duty of men. Otherwise, you'll be that loser standing on the porch trying to figure out where you went wrong.
Ignorance: I think the girls up top just wanted drama.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
I'm kind of torn over this Mike Vick situation. Apparently he has copped a plea deal and has plead guilty to being involved with the dog fights.
Part of me does not feel sorry for him because when you are successful as he is, has as much money as he does and in the public eye as much as he is (and a *coughBlackMalecough*) you've gotta realize that the target is on your chest from jump. You have to think smarter and disassociation yourself with things that threaten that fortune that you worked hard to build.
As much as I don't like him, take 50 Cent for example. Crack dealer gets a music deal, stops selling crack, disassociates himself with people still in "the life," moves to CT, invests his money into things and made smart business moves that put him in the Forbes, and HE AIN'T GOING BACK regardless of who calls him a sellout for getting out of the hood and not participating in destructive things anymore. I mean he STILL raps about shooting people in the face and is the poster child for industry beefs, but that's the entertainment we expect from him.
The other part of me DOES feel sorry for him because he's one of the best quarter backs to ever play the game (he redefined the quarterback position) and is about to lose his career even though others beat their wives, use steroids, ruin lives by starting melees in strip clubs resulting in an innocent bystander getting paralyzed, and so forth and so on.
Sure, dog fighting is cruelty to animals, but what about the people in the NRA that stalk and blow a deer's brains out and call it "gaming"; or the scientists that cut off the heads of live rats with scissors for experiments?
All I'm saying is that a LOT of people should be on trial, but when you're in the limelight, you have to be smart about your decisions.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
What's good folks? Gene from YBPguide.com blesses us with another piece about revisiting the club scene during a trip to a Vegas Convention. As you get older, the club scene and experience definitely changes (or SHOULD change). To some degree I think we can all relate. Hope you enjoy.
I don’t really do clubs.
I try to stay away from them for more reasons than I care to share, but it’s been more than a year since I’ve been to one. And I have no idea when’s the next time I’ll be forced to go to one … okay, maybe I do. One of my brothers is having a bachelor party Labor Day weekend. I doubt I’ll make it … but I digress.
Needless to say, despite the fact that I don’t go out like that, I DO know where the best place for me and mines to party is: black professional organizations’ convention. Period.
Besides the (usually) free admission and free food and drinks (sometimes), it’s just a real comfortable environment. Most folks there are too intelligent to act ignorant and those who are too ignorant to behave intelligently don’t come to these kinds of functions … usually.
I kinda came to this realization some years ago when I was at the UNITY: Journalists of Color convention in Washington, D.C. I’d been on my club fast – with a few relapses – for about two years by then and forgot how much I enjoyed dancing with a group of people.
But convention parties being my spot of choice was confirmed last week at the National Association of Black Journalists convention in Vegas.
I pretty much chilled the first three nights of the four-night convention ... and when I say chill, I mean I was asleep. I’m kind of an “old man” and the chances of me breaking out of my seniority were shot down when my man Brandon Parker arrived – dude is like three years younger than me, but just as old … maybe older. We pretty much spent late nights in Vegas pontificating on issues like faith, marriage, career and fatherhood.
And we were cool with that. Real cool. Most anybody with good sense can appreciate good conversation – especially when it's ongoing for several days.
But one of my brother’s girl’s pretty much TOLD us we were going out with them the last night of the convention (she took the above photo). It was free. There was free food and drinks. It was the last night. And it was in a hotel ballroom across the street. So we really had no reason to fight it … although we tried subconsciously – Parker and I were at the party still in our business attire!
Whatchu know about getting wiped down in a suit and tie!?
Besides being in good company; having good eats and a good DJ and host (my intense enjoyment of Tom Joyner’s hosting skills FURTHER confirmed my old man status), I … was … comfortable.
And nothing sealed that feeling more than the party’s Greek moments.
I arrived with my chapter brother; Parker’s classmate who’s also frat; a soror; my frat’s girl and several other folks that somehow made me feel like I was rolling up in the party with mad frat … even though I wasn’t.
It’s kinda hard to explain – the whole inclusive and far-reaching fraternity concept. It’s almost like some folks are such regulars on the scene that they kinda end up being frat … kinda. Or maybe it’s an MZ thing. I digress.
So when they started playing “my song” – and I have absolutely no clue what that was, I immediately threw up my fraternity sign. It was a natural reflex. The last time I consistently went to parties was in college – and that was nearly half a decade ago.
But anyway, the two brothers in my group immediately did the same! It was one of those good “follow the prophyte” moments! And almost immediately, a SWARM of fraternity brothers we didn’t even know were there surrounded us and threw their signs in the air! Our sorors weren’t too far behind.
It was like maybe they all were waiting for one of us to let the black journalism world know we were in Vegas and in Vegas HARD!
Now if you’re still reading (thank you much if you are), THIS is why I think these kind of parties rule.
Members of two other black Greek fraternities (and one sorority, I believe) started repping as well. Even when the DJ played one of the other frat’s signature songs allowing them to take over the dance floor, my frat and another frat continued repping our respective organizations.
And there was no fighting.
And it was good.
This kind of goes back to my earlier mentioning of being comfortable. Anybody somewhat familiar with the black Greek experience knows that bravado and disrespect for one’s self and all those around you disguised as “not getting punked” leads many to disrespect their founders and their organizations as a whole.
Feeling like I had to take the lead on that as a senior brother got old. Real fast. I pledged a frat, not a gang. But this wasn't a concern at a convention for a black professional organization. It hit me quickly that most of the folks there were about their business and were too concerned with their careers to “keep it real.”
Besides what would a dude look like walking past managers at his dream company in handcuffs because he swung on a dude who didn't move while his frat was party-hopping?! Unemployed!!
Plus the likelihood of the dude you swing on having hiring power somewhere you want to work isn’t worth the risk. And when I realized that we ALL realized that, I looked up in the sky, threw up my sign (both hands, this time) and took it all in.
Good music. Greek unity. Black professionals. A good time.
Wouldn’t it be tight if some things that happened in Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas?!
Gene is a journalist in Phoenix. Check him out at YBPguide.com.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
This post comes from Gene of YBPguide.com. He was in Vegas recently and ate at the Hooters Casino that was the inspiration behind my Black People Don't Tip-post. Did he have the same experience? Let's get it!...
Early last week this overwhelming craving for some buffalo wings came over me. And I mean STRONG. I wanted some of them boneless joints they have at pretty much every chain restaurant dipped in the hot sauce with some blue cheese dressing. But I knew I’d be headed to Vegas later in the week for the National Association of Black Journalists convention and that I should be a bit conservative about eating out until then.
By lunchtime Thursday, the craving hadn’t subsided. And while I wanted some wings from Pizza Hut specifically, I felt like it would be wack of me to eat something in Vegas that I could eat back home in Phoenix. So I dragged my roommates – UNC alums Jason Lucas and Brandon Parker – with me to the infamous Hooters casino.
(Yes, we have Hooterses – or is it Hootersi? – in Phoenix, but we don’t have a Hooters casino, man?!)
Now the last time I was in Vegas, was during Super Bowl XL (shot out to UNC alum Willie Parker) – the same weekend the Hooters casino opened. But I was with my moms. So I scrapped the idea of asking her to join me to go see Hooters debut their … well, … hooters. We just ate at those all you can eat buffets you eat at with your moms.
But this time, with my boys and my craving, there was nothing stopping me. So we took the Monorail southbound to the most sinful casino in Sin City.
We almost immediately noticed how regla (not, regular … but regla) the casino was. It was like they said, “You ain’t here for the décor anyway, so why try?!” I swear that the rooms overlooking the pool looked like what a dirty, crappy frat house would look like if it was a hotel.
We walked past a bunch of pot-bellied men past their prime and only a handful of Hooters girls to the back of the casino towards the restaurant. The abundance of men working the card tables made me a bit nervous. Not that I was going to the restaurant to see the girls (I’m being honest), but if my “waitress’ ended up being a dude, we was gon’ have some problems.
Anyway we got to the restaurant and had to wait a little longer than I’m used to waiting. I was hungry and the waitresses (women, thank God) didn’t seem to feel my sense of urgency – I had places to be. There were three photographers waiting at the door asking if we wanted to take a picture with a Hooters girl while we waited … which was HILARIOUS to me!! Nothing says I’m not used to beautiful women than a photo of you and a Hooters girl. Why not take a photo in front of sheet airbrushed with a Maserati and a champagne glass filled with diamonds?!
I passed. Plus my wife would have thrown it away anyway … and probably me with it.
So when we were seated, I IMMEDIATELY started thinking about Brandon’s racist Hooter’s experience and told my boys about it. We then started looking for our own conspiracy.
Almost immediately we noticed that NONE of the waitresses were smiling. It was as if we were in some small southeast Asian country and they were nervous about being sold to American tourists before their appearance on “To Catch A Predator.” We also noticed that at least a third of the waitresses didn’t have hooters large enough to work at a place known for them. The funniest part was seeing this not-so-busty woman with a tattoo on her breast. HILARIOUS! It was like a bald-headed woman rocking a headband.
Our waitress, a pretty young blonde (probably just 18) named Mandy with too much makeup and a really poorly done weave was nice but not friendly – anybody who went to school in the South knows that friendly is very different from nice. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t frown either as she memorized our rather complicated orders. Afterwards, I asked if she was going to remember all of that. She replied,
“No, I’m just going to make it up.”
I kinda deserved that. And she kinda laughed at the end to soften it … I think.
Anyway our service was above average (too bad our wings weren’t). And our waitress never gave us reason to believe that she didn’t want to serve us or had a problem with us being black. The fact that we all had on suits, ties and convention bags might have helped us.
While we were eating, the bartender by the pool walked in the restaurant in her string bikini, spray on tan and manmade hooters and shut the game DOWN! I mean even women turned around to look at her. Don’t know if she was that bad, or just tighter than everybody else up in the place. She wasn’t smiling either. But the rest of us were.
So we finished our very subpar meal (am I the only one who thinks Hooters wings aren’t that great?!) and I stopped the black girl with the best weave as she walked by our table.
“Hey Raven! Can I ask you a question?”
Raven whips weave around
“How do you know my name,” she asked while looking at her tag angrily frustrated that the 18-inch track didn’t cover her badge.
I’ve recently begun boycotting dumb questions, so I just moved the conversation forward.
“Why aren’t any of ya’ll smiling,” I asked somewhat demandingly, like I was OWED a smile.
The 19-year-old hit me with a string of complaints. She was tired. The job was getting old. She starts community college in the fall. Books are expensive. Vegas isn’t what it used to be. And on and on and on.
I shoulda hopped on and complained about how they charged us $1 for ranch dip for our wings, but this was her moment, so I gave it to her … despite my lack of sensitivity for pretty girls complaining about how hard life is.
“So you gonna quit,” I asked.
“No,” she answered.
“You going to drop out of school?”
“You going to leave Vegas?”
This is what happens when you let pretty girls complain.
Even they realize that their problems aren’t significant enough to change. I tried to drop some “keep your head up” type of line and let her go on her way.
We paid and left Mandy tips – mine was more than she probably expected (I think). And we headed for the door. When Mandy saw our receipts. She smiled.
Gene is a journalist based in Phoenix. Check him out at YBPguide.com.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Lawsuits these days are getting ridiculous, but does this one have some validity? I saw this one this morning on Good Morning America...
Leroy Greer, a car salesman, called 1-800-flowers.com and sent flowers to his girlfriend. 1-800-flowers.com subsequently sent a receipt to Leroy’s house. The trouble? Leroy shares his house with his wife, who thus discovered Leroy has a girlfriend.
Leroy says, at the time, he had been in the process of getting divorced, but had hoped to reconcile with this wife. Now she’s set on splitting and demanding a much larger settlement. He’s asked for $1 million from the florist. But, so far, the florist ain’t paying.
Upon hearing his story, most of us instinctually think Leroy’s a little nuts. He’s not exactly a sympathetic character, and it’s hard to imagine anyone being a “victim” because their extramarital affair was discovered.
But in fairness to poor Leroy, 1-800-flowers.com does appear to have made a mistake. He explicitly asked them not to send anything to his home, and they assured him that wouldn’t happen. If his account is accurate, they proffered a service – discretely delivering flowers – and they failed to deliver.
Now, pretend for a moment that those flowers were intended for a surprise Anniversary Party. Let’s say that rather than cheating on his wife, Leroy had invested countless hours and thousands of dollars planning a surprise bash celebrating her. And let’s say that by sending a receipt to their house, 1-800-flowers.com had ruined that surprise, undoing months of planning and leading to the loss of all that money spent on deposits, decorations, travel for friends, etc. Would Leroy deserve some sort of compensation in return?
If you think so, then you have to acknowledge Leroy’s lawsuit might not be insane after all. The morality of his behavior should be irrelevant to the responsibility the florist bears for doing what they promise.
Friday, August 10, 2007
I'm looking forward to this. A lot of folks have a problem with Boondocks and say that it does more harm than good by reinforcing stereotypes rather than being a social commentary on them, not too far from the Hot Ghetto Mess brand.
To all this I say...
"I'm baaaaaa-acccck nuiiii-ggguuaaa"
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
...So I've got this little situation that I need some advice on.
So I have a male friend and a female friend. A few months ago when I was in DC, I hung out with my boy. While we were out I decided to kill two birds with one stone and call up my female friend to meet us for dinner because I hadn't seen her in a while.
To make a long story short, my female friend called me up a few weeks later and asked me to hook her up with my boy. I WARNED HER that he was a player and that he had a lot of women. She didn't seem to think that he would cheat on her if they got together and maybe that he just hadn't met the right one. Again I warned her. She still wanted the hook-up.
So I hooked it up...
So basically they're dating right now and I found out today that he's cheating on her CRAZY, but I don't think she has the slightest clue that he's got three or four new chicks on the side. I told him he was wrong for that, but that it was his business.
Now both of them are my good friends and I'd hate to see ol' girl get hurt. But at the same time I had already warned her. Should I do anything or are my hands clean? What if she finds out that I knew all along?
Ignorance: Never IN MY LIFE have I seen a big girl run that fast before
Monday, August 6, 2007
I hope works out... easily an instant classic!
Film director Brett Ratner revealed to New York radio station Hot 97 earlier today (August 1) that he is currently working on a new project with an all-star cast including Eddie Murphy, Chris Tucker, Chris Rock, Jamie Foxx and Dave Chappelle.
According to Ratner, Murphy called him to direct the untitled flick, which will star the aforementioned actors as employees of the Trump Tower, conspiring to rip off the building's residents.
Ratner also divulged that Denzel Washington and Sidney Poitier might be added to the cast by the time the flick begins production in January 2008. The movie is presently being put together by Russell Gerwitz, who wrote the script for Inside Man which also starred Washington.
Ratner has directed music videos for Wu-Tang Clan, LL Cool J, Mariah Carey and Sean "Diddy" Combs. His film credits include the Rush Hour series, Money Talks, X Men: The Last Stand and The Family Man, among others.
...and I knew it all along.
Over the past couple days, Pepsi and Coca-Cola who manufacture Aquafina and Dasani Waters, respectively, admitted to using tap water from "public water sources" and not the mythical streams that flow down the purified creeks of Artesia. WTF??? You mean to tell me that the Water Knomes of Aqualand didn't have shit to do with this good Fiji Water? Nor do the unicorns that Michael Jackson refer to as "public transportation" graze the Springs of Poland?
I'm not surprised...are you?
It's crazy to me that when we were all growing up all we drank was tap water. Hell... as kids after a long day of playing basketball outside we would all gather around the spicket (country folks know what that is) to drink water from the outside water hose. It's been only in the past 10 years or so that people started turning their noses up at tap water like it's a safety hazard.
Speaking of which, have you ever had guests over and offered them drinks? It usually goes something like this:
"Would you like something to drink? I have Coke, lemonade, water... umm.. milk?"
"What kind of water?"
"Eww... no bottled water?"
"*disgusted* Ok... I'll take Coke"
I always would get a little agitated and want to scream out "It's the same thing, fool!" It's amazing to me how easily we change our opinions of things with enough marketing and advertising.
With this startling new info that bottlers are NOT filling up empty bottles with purified H20 from sacred streams, but rather turning on a faucet not unlike the one in your kitchen , I challenge everyone to take a chance... take out a cup from your cabinet, put it under you faucet, turn it on cold, and take a swig. You just might find it a little familiar.
Want proof? Like ta' hear it here it go!
NEW YORK (Reuters) -- PepsiCo Inc. will spell out that its Aquafina bottled water is made with tap water, a concession to the growing environmental and political opposition to the bottled water industry. According to Corporate Accountability International, a U.S. watchdog group, the world's No. 2 beverage company will include the words "Public Water Source" on Aquafina labels.
Pepsi's Aquafina bottled water and Coca-Cola's Dasani are made from purified tap water.
"If this helps clarify the fact that the water originates from public sources, then it's a reasonable thing to do," said Michelle Naughton, a Pepsi-Cola North America spokeswoman.
Pepsi Chief Executive Indra Nooyi told Reuters earlier this week the company was considering such a move.
Pepsi's Aquafina and Coca-Cola Co's Dasani are both made from purified water sourced from public reservoirs, as opposed to Danone's Evian or Nestle's Poland Spring, so-called "spring waters," shipped from specific locations the companies say have notably clean water.
Coca-Cola Co. told Reuters it will start posting online information about the quality control testing it performs on Dasani by the end of summer or early fall.
"Concerns about the bottled-water industry, and increasing corporate control of water, are growing across the country," said Gigi Kellett, director of the "Think Outside the Bottle" campaign, which aims to encourage people to drink tap water.
San Francisco's mayor banned city employees from using city funds to buy bottled water when tap water is available. Ann Arbor, Michigan passed a resolution banning commercially bottled water at city events and Salt Lake City, Utah asked department heads to eliminate bottled water.
Critics charge the bottled water industry adds plastic to landfills, uses too much energy by producing and shipping bottles across the world and undermines confidence in the safety and cleanliness of public water supplies, all while much of the world's population is without access to clean water.
But industry observers said such opposition is unlikely to drain U.S. sales of bottled water, which reached 2.6 billion cases in 2006, according to Beverage Digest. The industry newsletter estimated that U.S. consumers spent about $15 billion on bottled water last year. "Consumers have an affection for bottled water. It's not an issue of taste or health, it's about convenience," the newsletter's publisher, John Sicher, said. "Try walking up (New York City's) Third Avenue on a hot day and getting a glass of tap water."
Dave Kolpak, a portfolio manager at Victory Capital Management, said the environmental objections will have little impact on the bottom line for either Pepsi or Coke, though he admitted it could slow the market's growth rate.
"Pepsi and Coke do not make a lot of profit" on bottled water, said Kolpak, adding that people may talk about the issue, but will likely continue buying some bottled water. Victory Capital owns about 3 million shares of PepsiCo among its $62 billion under management.
Ignorance: I want some of that Unicorn water like in the picture up top.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
I'm a huge Fugees fan from back when they did Nappy Heads off of Blunted on Reality. It's easily been 10 years since they did an album together and now Wyclef is airing out Lauryn for being the reason why there will never be another.
While everybody thinks she's "enlightened" and on a higher level than us mere mortals, Clef puts Ms. Hill (that's how everyone around her MUST refer to her) on blast for being selfish and difficult to get along with. Is she crazy?
Here is an excerpt from Clef's interview in the upcoming new issue of Scratch Magazine:
Scratch: What's going on with the Fugees reunion, or lack there of?
Wyclef: I'm officially Paul McCartney from the Beatles now. If the Fugees wanna come back, and Lauryn wanna come back…you can't break the format. Don't come back and be like, "I wanna produce a beat." That's like me saying I wanna sing an R&B vocal. When we was working on the album, I was like, [to Lauryn], "You need to do this like this." [And] she says, "How do you know what's relevant? I haven't heard anything from you in the past like three, four years?" The minute she said that I was like, I gotta go back to working.
So what's ultimately holding you guys back?
Lauryn is straight up the problem, bro. She wants to be a producer. Don't come telling us how to chop up beats so you can get credit for it.
What makes you think she would take the credit?We did a remix [with] Lauryn for John Legend, for the record "How High." John Legend was saying our names. You know what she had [him] do? She was like, "Take off Wyclef and Jerry's names." Because she wanted people to think that she was the one doing the beat…I'm a producer and I'm a beatmaker with my cousin Jerry Wonder, and I'm a writer. She's a writer, a vocalist, [and] a great [vocal] composer. And she's great at picking out samples—she got 20 billion samples but can't chop 'em up to save her life.
So she hasn't made any of the beats she got credit for?
It's real simple—if you did the beats, where are the beats? Show us one beat that you did. If you bring 'Clef to the studio, put an MP, put an SP, put a bunch of stuff, bring a bunch of cameras [and] say, "Clef, do a beat in two minutes." The beat's done! Bring Lauryn Hill in the studio with the same camera, say we give you three hours. Matter fact, fuck it, we'll give you a month—do a beat. She can't put it together!
Ignorance: that bow tie