Car versus Tree; Tree wins (NOTE: Entry is not dial-up friendly)
About a week ago or so, I was hanging out at my friend C.'s house and we had NOM NOM NOMed some veggie din-din and were futzing with audio-visual files and gabbing away. All in all, a pretty quiet night.
We started looking up music files to put on the videos, and got sidetracked from pirate-related tunes to Coolio, of all people. Coolio naturally led to "Weird Al" Yankovic. "Amish Paradise" led to "White & Nerdy," and I didn't know the original tune, so we looked THAT up, and I suddenly gained better understanding of a LOLmeme that had amused but puzzled me before: "they see me rollin', they hatin'." Enter Chamillionaire.
Now, as far as rap or hip-hop music and videos go, I generally DO NOT WANT. They are all basically the same.
RECIPE FOR A GANGSTA VIDDY
1. Hootchie girls with ample posteriors
2. Cars with riced detailing, hydraulics and/or rims
3. Strange hand gestures that are not ASL
4. Track suits or hood rat uniform or jumbo-sized clothing
5. Sunglasses
6. Grillz on yo teefz
7. Pimp cup and/or pimp cane
8. Posse
9. No musicians whatsoever
10. Urban setting or pimp crib
11. Phat beatz
12. Bust a move dancing
13. "Gold" chains, watches and rings; bling
14. Headwear: do-rag, toque, baseball cap at rakish angle
15. Expensive sport shoes (pristine white are best)
16. Bad cops
17. Booze
18. Mobile phones
Mix together, throw in some lights and street scenes, stir, serve.
The Chamillionaire video actually ranked fairly low on the Gangsta Rap Video scale and had a message we could appreciate: DWB (Driving While Black) issues / racial profiling, the sense of your personal zone of privacy (your car) being invaded.
Anyway, we were busy discussing it and C. was of the opinion that I needed to actually hear the Black Eyed Peas' My Hump to truly appreciate the putridity thereof, when WHOMP!! ...from out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, we sprang up from our seats to see what was the matter.
Then C. with her ciggie and I with my pop, emerged from the house to see lots of cop.
A DWB perp had slammed into a tree, going the wrong way on a one way street.
On flashers, on hailers, on cops by the dozens. Emerge neighbors from houses, dragging their cousins.
One very flat car that this morning was new, one unmoving perp, the street was a zoo.
You get the idea.
So this shiny red car was driven right into a HUGE old live oak, and, naturally, the tree won. Once C. and I determined that the crashee was moving and sassing off to the cops, all sympathy shifted from him to the poor old tree. The cops walked over and chatted, C.'s sweet gay neighbors, one who just had heart surgery and was clutching a big red heart-shaped pillow like a teddy bear, trotted over to see what all the commotion was about, C's dog was having anxiety spasms, and my ferret (who was visiting with me) slept through the whole ruckus.
Now for the pictures.
They see me rollin'
They hatin'
Patrollin'
And tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
My music so loud;
I'm swangin'.
They hopin'
That they gon' catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin'
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Police think they can see me lean;
I'm tint so it ain't easy to be seen.
For me to see me ride by, they can see the glean
And my shine on the deck and the TV screen.
Ride with a new chick, she like "Hold up."
Next to the Playstation controller
There's a full clip in my pistola;
Turn a jacker into a coma.
Girl, you ain't know, I'm crazy like Krayzie Bone;
Just tryin' to make you horny, ain't tryin' to have no babies.
Ride clean as hell so I pull in ladies.
Law's on patrol; you know they hate me.
Music turned all the way up and to the maximum;
I can speak for some homies tryin' to jack for some.
But we packin' somethin' that we have
And, um, will have a homie locked up in the maximum
Security cell. I'm grippin' oak.
Music loud and I'm tippin' slow.
Twins steady twistin' like hit this dough;
Pull up from behind and im sittin low.
Windows down, gotta stop pollution.
CDs change; homeys like "Who is that producin'?"
This the Play-N-Skillz when we out and cruisin'
Got warrants in every city except Houston
But I still ain't losin'.
They see me rollin';
They hatin'.
Patrollin'
And tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
My music so loud;
I'm swangin'.
They hopin'
That they gon' catch me ridin' dirty.
I been drinkin' and smokin'; holdin' shit
'Cause a brother can't focus.
I gotta get to home 'fore the po-po's scope
This big ol Excursion
Swervin',
All up in the curve, man.
Homey been sippin' on that Hennessey
And the gin again
Is in again;
We in the wind.
Doin' a hundred while I come from the block
And rollin another one up;
They see me rollin';
They hatin'.
Patrollin'
And tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
My music so loud;
I'm swangin'.
They hopin'
That they gon' catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Do what you thinkin' so,
I tried to let you go.
Turn on my blinker light
And then I swang it slow.
And they upset for sure
'Cause they think they know
That they catchin me with plenty of the drinkin' drough.
So they get behind me,
Tryin' to check my tags.
Look at my rearview and they smilin',
Thinkin' they'll catch me on the wrong; keep tryin'
'Cause they denyin' it's racial profilin'.
Houston, TX, you can check my tags;
Pull me over, try to check my slab.
Glove compartment, gotta get my cash
'Cause the crooked cops'll try to come up fast.
And bein' the baller that I am, I talk to them,
Givin' a damn 'bout not feeling my attitude.
When they realize I ain't even ridin' dirty
Bet you'll be leavin' with an even madder mood.
I'm-a laugh at you
And then I have to cruise.
You're a number two
On some old DJ Screw.
You can't arrest me plus you can't sue.
This a message to the law; tells 'em "We hate you."
I can't be touched and tell 'em that they shoulda known.
Tippin' down; I'm sittin' crooked on my chrome.
Bookin' my phone; findin' a chick I wanna bone.
Like they couldn't stop me
I'mma bout to pull up at your home
And it's on.
They see me rollin';
They hatin'.
Patrollin'
And tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
My music so loud;
I'm swangin'.
They hopin'
That they gon' catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Here's what we know:
Brotherman was cruising around in his girlfriend's brand new hot red car, and the po-po were already In Hot Pursuit close behind. He tried to hang a tight turn onto a one-way street, flailed, scronched into a tree. It sounded like a branch had fallen onto C.'s roof.
Drama ensued.
Brotherman was hauled off to the hospital (WAAAHHmbulance never came) and grousing about who he would be able to talk to at the hospital.
The red baseball cap on the dash is a particularly nice touch.
Our assessment, the morning after: one completely intact headlight flung 15 yards away into the yard, busted concrete erosion barrier wall, tree has embedded glass and crud, mysterious car fluids spattered about, Heineken bottles that probably spewed from the DWB's car since C. cleaned the yard that evening before the drama.
Also, we concluded that IF Brotherman gets a clean bill of health from the hospital (likely, as drunks seem to be immune to serious damages of this sort), he'll be back in there, deballed, once his girlfriend finds out what he did to her car.
Tow truck soon removed the car-cass and all the hoo-rah was over and done with before dawn.
PROTIP: If the po-po are chasing you, pull the fuck over, nimrod. Don't try to evade them going the wrong way down a one-way. WTF. There were eight cop cars out there! Honestly, what are the chances of outrunning eight cop cars at 2AM? In-town?! With all the funky one-ways and usual nonsense? People are idjits. Seriously, was he trying to run home so he could bail out and pretend he didn't know what was the happs or what?
I dunno, I see a glaring flaw in that sort of clever plan. Maybe it is just me.
We started looking up music files to put on the videos, and got sidetracked from pirate-related tunes to Coolio, of all people. Coolio naturally led to "Weird Al" Yankovic. "Amish Paradise" led to "White & Nerdy," and I didn't know the original tune, so we looked THAT up, and I suddenly gained better understanding of a LOLmeme that had amused but puzzled me before: "they see me rollin', they hatin'." Enter Chamillionaire.
Now, as far as rap or hip-hop music and videos go, I generally DO NOT WANT. They are all basically the same.
RECIPE FOR A GANGSTA VIDDY
1. Hootchie girls with ample posteriors
2. Cars with riced detailing, hydraulics and/or rims
3. Strange hand gestures that are not ASL
4. Track suits or hood rat uniform or jumbo-sized clothing
5. Sunglasses
6. Grillz on yo teefz
7. Pimp cup and/or pimp cane
8. Posse
9. No musicians whatsoever
10. Urban setting or pimp crib
11. Phat beatz
12. Bust a move dancing
13. "Gold" chains, watches and rings; bling
14. Headwear: do-rag, toque, baseball cap at rakish angle
15. Expensive sport shoes (pristine white are best)
16. Bad cops
17. Booze
18. Mobile phones
Mix together, throw in some lights and street scenes, stir, serve.
The Chamillionaire video actually ranked fairly low on the Gangsta Rap Video scale and had a message we could appreciate: DWB (Driving While Black) issues / racial profiling, the sense of your personal zone of privacy (your car) being invaded.
Anyway, we were busy discussing it and C. was of the opinion that I needed to actually hear the Black Eyed Peas' My Hump to truly appreciate the putridity thereof, when WHOMP!! ...from out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, we sprang up from our seats to see what was the matter.
Then C. with her ciggie and I with my pop, emerged from the house to see lots of cop.
A DWB perp had slammed into a tree, going the wrong way on a one way street.
On flashers, on hailers, on cops by the dozens. Emerge neighbors from houses, dragging their cousins.
One very flat car that this morning was new, one unmoving perp, the street was a zoo.
You get the idea.
So this shiny red car was driven right into a HUGE old live oak, and, naturally, the tree won. Once C. and I determined that the crashee was moving and sassing off to the cops, all sympathy shifted from him to the poor old tree. The cops walked over and chatted, C.'s sweet gay neighbors, one who just had heart surgery and was clutching a big red heart-shaped pillow like a teddy bear, trotted over to see what all the commotion was about, C's dog was having anxiety spasms, and my ferret (who was visiting with me) slept through the whole ruckus.
Now for the pictures.
They see me rollin'
They hatin'
Patrollin'
And tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
My music so loud;
I'm swangin'.
They hopin'
That they gon' catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin'
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Police think they can see me lean;
I'm tint so it ain't easy to be seen.
For me to see me ride by, they can see the glean
And my shine on the deck and the TV screen.
Ride with a new chick, she like "Hold up."
Next to the Playstation controller
There's a full clip in my pistola;
Turn a jacker into a coma.
Girl, you ain't know, I'm crazy like Krayzie Bone;
Just tryin' to make you horny, ain't tryin' to have no babies.
Ride clean as hell so I pull in ladies.
Law's on patrol; you know they hate me.
Music turned all the way up and to the maximum;
I can speak for some homies tryin' to jack for some.
But we packin' somethin' that we have
And, um, will have a homie locked up in the maximum
Security cell. I'm grippin' oak.
Music loud and I'm tippin' slow.
Twins steady twistin' like hit this dough;
Pull up from behind and im sittin low.
Windows down, gotta stop pollution.
CDs change; homeys like "Who is that producin'?"
This the Play-N-Skillz when we out and cruisin'
Got warrants in every city except Houston
But I still ain't losin'.
They see me rollin';
They hatin'.
Patrollin'
And tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
My music so loud;
I'm swangin'.
They hopin'
That they gon' catch me ridin' dirty.
I been drinkin' and smokin'; holdin' shit
'Cause a brother can't focus.
I gotta get to home 'fore the po-po's scope
This big ol Excursion
Swervin',
All up in the curve, man.
Homey been sippin' on that Hennessey
And the gin again
Is in again;
We in the wind.
Doin' a hundred while I come from the block
And rollin another one up;
They see me rollin';
They hatin'.
Patrollin'
And tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
My music so loud;
I'm swangin'.
They hopin'
That they gon' catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Do what you thinkin' so,
I tried to let you go.
Turn on my blinker light
And then I swang it slow.
And they upset for sure
'Cause they think they know
That they catchin me with plenty of the drinkin' drough.
So they get behind me,
Tryin' to check my tags.
Look at my rearview and they smilin',
Thinkin' they'll catch me on the wrong; keep tryin'
'Cause they denyin' it's racial profilin'.
Houston, TX, you can check my tags;
Pull me over, try to check my slab.
Glove compartment, gotta get my cash
'Cause the crooked cops'll try to come up fast.
And bein' the baller that I am, I talk to them,
Givin' a damn 'bout not feeling my attitude.
When they realize I ain't even ridin' dirty
Bet you'll be leavin' with an even madder mood.
I'm-a laugh at you
And then I have to cruise.
You're a number two
On some old DJ Screw.
You can't arrest me plus you can't sue.
This a message to the law; tells 'em "We hate you."
I can't be touched and tell 'em that they shoulda known.
Tippin' down; I'm sittin' crooked on my chrome.
Bookin' my phone; findin' a chick I wanna bone.
Like they couldn't stop me
I'mma bout to pull up at your home
And it's on.
They see me rollin';
They hatin'.
Patrollin'
And tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Click to viewTryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
My music so loud;
I'm swangin'.
They hopin'
That they gon' catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.
Here's what we know:
Brotherman was cruising around in his girlfriend's brand new hot red car, and the po-po were already In Hot Pursuit close behind. He tried to hang a tight turn onto a one-way street, flailed, scronched into a tree. It sounded like a branch had fallen onto C.'s roof.
Drama ensued.
Brotherman was hauled off to the hospital (WAAAHHmbulance never came) and grousing about who he would be able to talk to at the hospital.
The red baseball cap on the dash is a particularly nice touch.
Our assessment, the morning after: one completely intact headlight flung 15 yards away into the yard, busted concrete erosion barrier wall, tree has embedded glass and crud, mysterious car fluids spattered about, Heineken bottles that probably spewed from the DWB's car since C. cleaned the yard that evening before the drama.
Also, we concluded that IF Brotherman gets a clean bill of health from the hospital (likely, as drunks seem to be immune to serious damages of this sort), he'll be back in there, deballed, once his girlfriend finds out what he did to her car.
Tow truck soon removed the car-cass and all the hoo-rah was over and done with before dawn.
PROTIP: If the po-po are chasing you, pull the fuck over, nimrod. Don't try to evade them going the wrong way down a one-way. WTF. There were eight cop cars out there! Honestly, what are the chances of outrunning eight cop cars at 2AM? In-town?! With all the funky one-ways and usual nonsense? People are idjits. Seriously, was he trying to run home so he could bail out and pretend he didn't know what was the happs or what?
I dunno, I see a glaring flaw in that sort of clever plan. Maybe it is just me.