FanMail: Dear Drizzy and C. Breezy

Chris Brown Twitpic

I was just lying in bed last night thinking what celebrity I would feature in my next “Fanmail” entry.  Which celeb needs a hug, a moment of clarity, some QT time with Christ.  But then, alas, you two decided you wanted to partake in the daily dose of celebrity fuckery.

Rihanna, that’s a bad broad, I can’t even lie.  She must have been doing Kegel exercises with Erykah Badu because once you men get with her you literally lose your minds.  I’m surprised one of you hasn’t ended up in a desert by now, butt naked sitting Indian style on a vision quest.  But that might be because you’re too busy throwing bottles in the club instead of popping them.

If the rumors are true, C. Breezy I’m gonna need you to drop it low and duck.  What happened?  Did Drizzy sneak you?  This is the same man who can probably do a back flip and land on his fingernails and you couldn’t look left as a bottle of Cris descended upon your dome?  Well, Drizzy did warn you that you would hype him up and make him “catch a body like that”.

Let’s gain a little perspective, shall we: Just a few weeks ago, my girl Riri was having the worst week ever as subliminal diss tracks were released by the both of you.  Chris Brown, who can usually be found crump dancing while crooning a love song so poetically stated:

Don’t f**k with my old b-tch it’s like a bad fur
Every industry n***a done had her
Shook the tree like a pumpkin just to smash her
B-tch is breaking codes, but I’m the password

And my future seven-night stand Drake had everyone thinking, “Is he talking about…no he can’t be talking about her,” when he spit,

She came through, she brought food, She got f—ed, she knew wassup 

She think I’m the realest out  And I say “damn, that makes two of us” 

Oh that look like what’s her name  Chances are it is whats her name  Chances are, if she was acting up Then I f–ked her once and never f—ed again She could have a Grammy,

I still treat that *ss like a nominee

Just need to know what that p—y like so one time, it’s fine with me

All I can say is: Y’all mad.  Rihanna’s dutty wining on designer perfume ads while you two are shedding blood at the bar.  Get it together.  Light-skinned dudes just got hot again; ya’ll need to stick together for J. Cole and Kirko Bangz sake, before Wale takes over. Do we need D’Angelo to get all my male singers and rappers together for a second version of, “U Will Know” Jason’s Lyric style?

Chris Brown, I am not sure if you are still on probation, but you need to let this go.  Last I heard you found love in a hopeless place in Karrueche Tran and Drizzy has had been linked to so many chicks in the last week, they could get together and form a version of The Vagina Monologues entitled “A Taste of Champagne Papi.” So let’s refill Drake’s cup, get Chris a paintbrush and a hot beat and keep the peace, OK?

Sincerely,

Management

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