The Atlanta BET Hip-Hop Atlanta Awards of Atlanta Blog!



As you all probably know, last night was the first of what’s likely to be over 750 airings of the BET Hip-Hop Awards, colorfully hosted by America’s favorite Pimpin’ Negro Leprechaun, Katt Williams. As you all also probably know, my expectations of both The Negro Channel and common contemportary rappers ain’t all that high either. I pretty much spent two hours waiting for Eat Dirt to get hit with an aluminum fold-up chair so that we might actually have been entertained.

Playing to the home field, ‘twas most certainly an excellent idea to start with “Welcome to Atlanta.” That Luda verse is still amazing. Too bad they didn't let him finish it. Shortly into the broadcast I was beat in the back of the head with the prevailing question “When exactly did Atlanta become the center of the hip-hop universe?”

I thought the official introduction was clever in concept. As a nigga that has seen “The Pimp Chronicles pt. 1” approximately 27 times to date, I expected a little more from President Williams. I also find the need to add that Tiger Woods (the ninety-percenter) is not hip-hop. I don’t give a fuck how much denied nigger lies in his heritage. We can’t claim him.

I was pretty damn excited that they threw to my award (best video) right off the bat until that monkeyface PuffiDiddy immediately defined greatness in music videos purely as stuntin. Thanks to coon ass niggas like these, Lupe got robbed. I aint even wanna cover the eventual winner, "What You Know." That's how fucking uninteresting this video is.

Surprise of the program: The cipher sessions. I can’t even front or hate. The Papoose, Lupe and Styles session was pretty damn fresh. Reminds me of when I used to bang on that lunch table and freestyle crack on niggas’ divorcing parents and unexpected pregnancies. Ah, high school. How I miss thee.

Wayne and Baby didn't kiss, but they performed their 69 song on stage. What kinda bloods are these niggas supposed to be? Period blood? I wanted to wipe my television screen with a Stayfree watching Birdman parade with them red flags dangling from the right pocket.

Rick Ross may not know The Real Noriega, but the nigga damn sure know The Real Sideshow Bob.

You know what’s really that shit?! That aint just awake Snoop. Nigga might actually be sober! I haven’t seen this motherfucker move with such coherent and deliberate coordination since "Gin and Juice." Arruh Kelly warn’t allowed at the awards because Lil' Bow Wow was there. Granted, he was on Jermaine Dupri’s lap, but he was there and a court order is a court order. Reccomendation: If Kelly can't be there, let the band do what it do. Spend some of the hash fund on useful shit such as background SANGERS instead of booty dancers... By all means, don't sing it yourself, Calvin!

Stringer Bell and Avon Barksdale in the motherfuckin house! Every time I see Idris Elba in action I’m disappointed by how NOT Stringer DJ Driis is. Where the fuck did Russell Bell get that scarf? That is indeed an ASScot. Is Wood Harris always that awkward? Did you know that these niggas rap too? Yes. As expected, they are fucking horrible.

Doesn’t Chamillionaire's hatred of the spotlight just warm your heart? His sickening displays of Christian humility are always a bit humbling. The man always makes me almost feel bad about burying him on the "Ridin'" review.

Remy look like a ghetto skunk. Broad look like Pepe LePew with doorknockers on. Gotta do something with that stripe. This ain’t Gremlins 2, bitch.

Damn. Game really made Junior Reid squawk over a massacred version of his own classic. I'm saddened by that. Cham was cool with it like a motherfucker. I remember those days when Junior Reid being there, even if exploited, would have been enough for me, too. Back to Butterfly Boy. Nigga bent his neck around off the stage like Mr. Fantastic to give Jay-Z a Bee-J. Why he always gotta dedicate shit? If you really wanna please Mr. Carter, why don’t you take a spot of his advice? Just rhyme, homie.

I know this is unrelated, but I love these inspirational ass Carmelo commercials. Too bad he knocked up LaLa. That’s a tragedy for any young nigga on the come up. Motoboat? Yes. Baby Daddy? No.

Flav and Devonte did not have to be so tacky. That's fucking disgusting! “At least the Nitro got good shocks. *coon cheese*” I’m glad our favorite hip-hop dope fiend received such a warm welcome, but shit… THIS is what was supposed to propel flavor to hip-hop royalty? Lest we forget this nigga’s contribution to our genre and culture were tangible and substantial at one point. Before his crack grill and lovelife were a complete joke, 911 was.

T.I.P. vs. T.I. Isn't that the eternal battle? Little Red Riding Hood was angry after Busta called out all these rappers and their limp-dick stage shows! Baby and Son didn't look too ecstatic to see B.G. Luda however, looked like he loved what he saw from the T.I. contingent. I smell a kiss and make-up collabo!

Snowman and his tired ass hoes need to go. Bitch looked like she was about to die when she did her firehooker slide 'round the pole. That was it for her. Creative time was over. Back to the generic pop.

Common had better shit to do than attend these awards, huh? I dunno, he’s working on movies and shit… Getting over the last leg of the Badu Mind Flu. I feel him. Glad my nigga got that recognition though. This was the validator award. Next year it's gonna go to some bum ass nigga like Young Jeezy or some shit. I promise.

God damn, Jimmy Jones. What’s the point of putting the jeans on? No one wants to see your fucking ass. Nigga smell like a cab with the AC broke. Good job singing over your complete track WITH your hypeman! You suck, dude.

Katt Williams came out in his official Dipset uniform: Beat It Edition. Slickback and The Diplomats… What strange bedfellows.

Grandmaster Flash looks and sounds like Mos Def in Hitchikers' Guide To The Galaxy. Living in the age of so-called DJs that merely get niggas to pay them to add their selections to compilations without even an afterthought of mixing makes this homage all the more refreshing.

Walkin it out is fun. I'm finna beat down my block.

Last season’s “Orange Weave Of The Year” award winner, Keyshia Cole announced the final award for MVP. Big L’s not on the list, but according to her, each of these niggas are blameless to the degree that they can't be hated on? Sheeeeeit! Bet I hated on every nigga on the list. Don’t never let no GED student like Keyshia Cole tell you that you can’t exercise your right to dissent! I ain’t even gonna get into Puffy, Jigga, Luda or Tippy… I’m gonna just put it out there. Yung Joc aint no damn MVP candidate. He ain’t even Horace Grant. He ain't Jesse Jackson... Michael Dukakis. Nothin.

In conclusion, I have to reiterate what Money Mike so wholeheartedly expressed to you children. Do not... I repeat... Do NOT even APPROACH the airport with a gun or a stun baton in your luggage. In fact, play it safe. Stuff a white person in your carry-on.

This program could have been a lot worse, but don’t think I’m gonna start thanking or going soft on The Negro Channel. BET still sucks slaveship vomit. Blee dat.


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This page contains a single entry by Ron Mexico published on November 16, 2006 9:00 AM.

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