Ok, so this is no musical memory, but it IS dedicated to 1 of THE baddest bitches in ANY musical genre. So today we'll discuss the topic that is GETTING ME SOME TICKETS TO ERYKAH BADU'S CONCERT TONIGHT.
"Why not just get your own," You ask, obviously unfamiliar with the bullshittery that is my bank account.
Cuz I'm broke. And I ain't slung enough System Security skills in order to afford the $85 wurf of ticket. **lifts butterknife to jugular** There! You HAPPY?!
Real talk: If anybody has some respectable hotastics I could pull to get that guap by TONIGHT: HOLLA AT A FAT MACK.
1) Knit her a Dallas Mavericks throwback jersey so she can be true to her Urf Mama style while representing for her hometeam.
2) Smoke a FAT blizzy with her backstage before the concert and have her lace my tennis shoes about the kinds of Sweet Nothings she whispered into Common's ear to
turn him from B-Boy to dressing like your great-grandma's couch.
He's come back around NOW, but STILL...
3) Babysit her kids. I'll get a school bus and 'round 'em all up and take 'em
off her hands for a few days. We'll embark upon a fantastic blessed ethereal ride and shit. I'll even tuck 'em in, but NOT before having their daddies spit hot lullaby 16s into their ears before they drift off to Dreamland. (No BET)
In the meantime, in between time enjoy this lil' ditty by Sista Knit Pants herself. I got a love of MY life, too, @fatbellybella. But Rick James wrote a song about H.E.R. so I don't have to...