Someone Ain't Familiar…

Luther D. here. Baba gave me my own log-in and everything, but it always makes it appear at the bottom saying “authored by Bomani.”
Not today, baby. Authored by L.R.D.
You heard this one? If you’re at work, throw on the headphones. If you’re at home, just enjoy it.
Now, lemme break some game down to you on how this went.

Long of the short for those of you too lazy to click a damn link–Diane wants to play a prank on her husband, Cisco. It seems she and Cisco–really, the nigga’s name is Cisco–have been having problems and she thought the radio prank would put a little spice back into things.
What kinda stupidness is that? Nothin’ make me feel warm and fuzzy like being made a fool of on the damn radio. That is to dudes what flowers are to women. Stupid.
Anyway, the radio makes the call to Cisco at home. It’s about 7am–morning show–and shawty is working the third shift. The radio hosts call the house while she’s hiding out on the line…and a woman picks up the phone.
Dun Dun Dunnnnn!!!!
Now the phone goes to Cisco. Actually, it came to him after the chick at the house said, “here baby,” while passing the phone.
The radio folks couldn’t even start the prank. They just had to let Diane on the phone. Of course, she asks who was picking up her phone.
Aww man, don’t start that this morning, baby, seriously. That ain’t nothin but the secretary. I called you to pick me up from the airport but you never answered, so I just called her.
Now, I could be mistaken, but baby girl was at work. How was she gonna get you from the airport?
But before we get there…since when did the other woman start picking up the phone like everything’s gravy? Where do these niggaz learn to pimp from these days?
So Diane asks why the chick picked up the phone.
See, there you go insinuating things again.
It’s possible that this cat just says insinuate a lot because he listens to a lot of Paul Wall. But in general, breaking out pentasyllabic words is a sign that bullshit is going to follow. That rule holds when cats are talking to their ladies or working in academia.
So now she wants to know why shawty called him Baby.
That’s just some stuff we play in the office and stuff. That ain’t nothing.
Dude, where the fuck do you work? Last time I checked, they got laws that stop people from talking like that in offices. Do you play a company game of grabass at lunch? Nigga, you’re diggin’ a deeper and deeper hole. If your other lady’s gonna pick up the phone AT YOUR HOUSE, you need to have a better story on file than this one.
With your stupid ass.
Look, I love you.
Buddy is officially messed up in the game. When the “I Love You” card is played, you’ve exhausted every resource you have.
So now the radio niggaz pop up.
Yo, who is this? Who is this guy?
Yanno, you’d think shawty would have remembered that she’s on the damn radio. Crying over the airwaves is never a good look.
So she says she’s on the way home.
You ain’t been coming home. Every day, what I do? I look at your pictures, I smell your perfume…so when another woman answers the phone, which is my personal assistant, you wanna trip.
It would be in this nigga’s best interest to stop calling her “personal assistant.” Write this down, social climbers–your wife has questions about your personal assistant. Always has and will. Television has socialized the notion of cats laying pipe to secretaries. Reminding her that it’s the secretary at the house is like saying, “baby, it’s just that woman you’ve been thinking for years wanted a piece of this.”
Bad look.
And then it gets ugly. The radio people keep saying that it’s Diane’s house and buddy disrespected her house.
How’s it her house? Her name ain’t on nothing…when you start paying some bills other htan your Mac bill….when you pay that black American Express, you can say this is your house.
Game for you, ladies–don’t take money from nobody. Don’t take money from your pimp, boyfriend, or husband. Leave it all alone. Why? Did you notice how quickly that dude rattled off a list of what he pays, she pays–and doesn’t pay? You see how that came?
A ledger was being kept. That nigga had her in a place where he felt entitled to do whatever because he laid down the bread for it. And the sad part here is the lady appears to have a decent job and don’t need him rolling like that. Either spend your–singular or plural–money or don’t spend a damn thing. Her game was weak for living like that. And partially as a result, he brought the secretary through the crib.
Slackin on your pimpin? Turn it up. But money IS a thang.
Just some game from Luther D. Fellas, the key to telling the lie is to act like nothing is wrong. don’t act like anyone that sees something wrong is crazy, but don’t act like anything is amiss. Say, “I see where you’re coming from…” But don’t say, “you’re trippin.” Cuz even if she is, you’ll never convince her of that.
Ever.
I should get my man Kole on this. Kole once did a joint called “How to Bone a Famous Broad” that blew me away, pimpin’. I might come one day and post it on here.
Gone. Quit talkin’ so much on the damn radio.