…on Nipsey Hussle and Nutballs.

I recently spent $19 to see one of the West Coast’s most talked about emcees: Nipsey Hussle. Not only because he’s assisting Cali in thumb-stamping it’s place back onto the map of rap. But also because he was being backed by a live band and I’ve never seen a thug scat over a flute’s crescendo.

At first, I felt as confident with my attire as Dennis Rodman does in a ball gown, but after walking into a sea of stilettos, I began to feel like my Jesus sandals and second-hand sweater were a mistake.

So, as a means to distract myself from myself, I went into a texting frenzy. Instead of appearing idle, I decided that now would be the perfect time to construct elaborate text messages exploring the philosophical meanings of sewn-in weaves and push-up bras.

After several minutes of nobody responding to my theories, Nipsey finally made his entrance.

Feigning cool, I pretended like I was already bored and remained seated when he asked everyone to move closer to the front of the stage.

Nipsey isn’t too bad on the eyes. He’s pretty cute. Something like a human poodle. He had two hype men. One who looked less poodle and more bulldog and the other who looked more like a mix between fine and a long stick of butter.



I was so distracted by aesthetics that I almost forgot about the live band. Where was it?

The only semblance of live music was the lone drum set. Disappointed.

The good thing about traveling alone is that when things don’t go as planned, I need not worry about consoling whomever accompanied me. Instead, I get to risk making matters worse by engaging in a bit of social experimentation.

In this case, I pretended to be a reporter (an important one) and as such, whenever my song(s) came on, I coolly waved my hand in the air and intentionally tried not to make eye contact with Nipsey or his hype-men. Important reporters are to remain neutral. They couldn’t know that beyond my cool exterior, lied an internal woman pup waiting to bark.

However, after the hip-hop standard call and response “which song do y’all want to hear”, my woof growled. I realized that my options read like acts out of a Gin-and-Juice opera:

“I don’t give a fucc”

“Nigga I’m good”


“Mac 11 on the dresser”

Am I in an episode of The Boondocks?

Sometimes,watching rappers live is just as repulsive as watching roaches die on their backs.

Still, I give Nipsey an extra booty bump for standing on top of the monitors and bridging the physical divide between audience and performer. Although it was more like bridging the gap between penis and forehead, I still appreciate his attempt to make contact with his fans.

But not as much as the multi-ethnic college student in the front row. I was intrigued by how excited she became every time Nip Nip thrust his pelvis closer and closer to her forehead whilst rhythmically detailing the history of his penis. I don’t know about her, but I’m just as attracted to a man who’s had “hella bitches”-as Nip and Tuck so brazenly proclaimed–as I am to a man who has an extensive history with gonorrhea.

If you have yet to download Nipsey’s mix tape, The Marathon, I suggest you do so immediately and come to your own conclusions as to whether you’d date him, or download another mix tape for that matter.

For the sake of indulging me, and perhaps saving another multi-ethnic college woman from being knocked in the head by a penis, count how many songs it takes for him figure out a pronoun for woman other than bitch, ho, or groupie. Once finished, write a better blog (or extensive text message) psychoanalyzing Nipple’s plausible succession of failed relationships as the cause of his misogynist attitude reflected in his lyrics (which was really what this post was supposed to be about).

End report.


4 thoughts on “…on Nipsey Hussle and Nutballs.

  1. Very well-written. I love your writing style and your humor. The two of those things put together made this a very enjoyable read.

  2. I met nipsey at simply wholesome once in l.a. cool exterior, slight snoop dogg dopplgangbangr, and enthusiastic about his ‘bullets got no name-mixtape’ at the time. with the quick ascension of kendrick la-mars, i suspect theres some resentment in him. to me nipsey spits like a west coast nas…..when at his best. I dont really understand yet the girls that love rappers that perceive and call them bitches,tricks,ho’s, groupies, goldiggers, hoochie mamas, slores(slut+whore) etc but hey maybe thats the paradox of lady in the streets, freakaleak in the sheets.i dont do it so i havent met the backlash of it. great article….humurous and real , you should be the editor in chief of a magazine…. that id buy monthly,or bi-monthly.For now the blogs are fressh

  3. just saying, are we hoping every rapper tells the same story… hiphop’s place setting has never been safe… I totally understand your veiwpoints and persective on Nip Hustle but yooo, like D.C Tucker wasn’t saving Hiphop, trying to have everyone rap like Common. And Common’s wackness is a hole nother story… and ladies love those trash raps he’s filled his last 3 albums wit…. sooo I digress. I feel that sometimes people only expecting hiphop to tell a certain story: a safe and P.C. one. And usually these people cant seperate the entertainment within the music and the artist’s perspective from their own day to day interaction’s
    (and if your not looking for entertainment, then mos def grab the Dr. C West album… it’s inspirational… sarcasm.) and instead are hoping for Christ on stage.
    Are we looking to rappers to tell their story… there way… or… are you as a college woman hoping that Nipsy pens raps that you dem exceptable. Either way it’s only hiphop or rap.
    No one is reinventing the wheel, some of us just understand the everyone pushes it a lil different. and the choice of how YOU or the listener recieves that wheel is your own, In a Ball Gown or a Bullet Proof Vest.
    hopefully you’ll find things that please you within this artform…. and as an aside
    and your talking about hiphop… the most ego driven, male bullshit fest ever…
    im mean maybe you should of saved that 19 dollars and rented poetic justice. thats R&B.

    • Dear Captain,

      First, thank you for your response. It allowed me to self-indulge for a little bit because I had to re-read what I wrote just to make sure you are referring to correct blog post. Perhaps you were multi-tasking while reading, but in no way did I suggest or even blatantly write that all rappers should be telling the same story. I would prefer if that were not the case, because as it stands, most commercial rap lacks diversity in subject matter, and as a result ceases to entertain me. Done with that point.

      I wouldn’t necessarily call Common whack. However, I have heard better when his name was succeeded by Sense. Never did I imply that his skill set should be the rubric by which other rappers should be judged. But who’s really reading?

      I can understand how this particular post could be read to be in favor of a more political correct rapper, however that is not the agenda I am pushing. I am in favor of entertainment and calling me a bitch for twelve songs is far more likely to put me to sleep than to make me dance. I spent $19 to see Nipsey backed by a live band, and was disappointed that all I got was a svelte rapper mumbling about the adventures of his penis. Fin.

      …and what is a male bullshit fest? did you mean “bashing”?

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