Dear 50 Cent and Kirk Frost:
There’s a good for nothing, trifling daddy convention today and you two are the only invited guests. Based on your respective actions this week, you two are the Yogi and Boo Boo of bad decisions; the Scooby and Scrappy Doo of shame; the Mario and Luigi of shifty Coloreds.
Normally, I’d start with 50 Cent because his megalomania demands A-list attention, but since you’re all about being a star now, Kirk Frost, let’s start with you. Now, I understand that you and Rasheeda were previously the boring married couple of Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta, but there are better ways of boosting your screen time. Seriously, who goes on national television and says, “I’m tired of raising my kids.” What kind of a man would tell his wife that not only should she get an abortion upon hearing word that she’s pregnant, but that he’s not even sure the kid is his and would like a blood test? ON NATIONAL TELEVISION?
Worse, you became the Barney Rubble to Benzino’s Fred Flintstone in order to live like you’re 21. Dude, you will never, ever be 21 again. 30 is not the new 20, and hell, you might be 40 something so why not just go be an adult? And if your male parts are desperate to have a midlife crisis, why not get a divorce first and poke freely? Doesn’t that sound a lot better than running around telling people that your wife saying, “Do you!” was a “free pass” to have a threesome at a cabin while she’s somewhere rubbing shea butter on her big, pregnant belly?
Whatever you believe Rasheeda did to you— and clearly you are trying to hurt her by your on screen antics—you do realize she is the mother of at least some of your children, right? That she deserves some type of respect and that the way you treat her has some bearing on how your children might grow up to treat people? On how they might grow up to feel about you?
Kirk, you have Stevie J looking like the perfect gentleman. I thought only a vampire on True Blood could do such a thing after being “glamoured.” You owe your wife and children an apology in every language, and if I were you, I’d do it fast before Rasheeda’s mama beats you down to the white meat.
As for you, Curtis, I didn’t think hip-hop needed an equivalent to Mister from The Color Purple, but here we are.
By now, the world is aware of a painfully revealing text message conversation between you and your 16-year-old. And though you said to a fan who questioned you on the incident “That was his mother texting me as him. She sold that to a web site. She hate me for winning. It’s hard to replace me,” I don’t really see how this matters. It’s your son’s phone so he’s going to see the messages all the same. More importantly, no matter who sold the text messages, they are text messages you sent.
Not only did you call your kid f*cking stupid” and a “motherf*cker,” you asked him, “If I died today would it matter to you? I’m changing my will. It’s a simple question.” What kind of a Jedi mind trick game are you playing, 50?
Also: “I’m taking you and your mother’s daughter out of my inheritance,” to which your son said, “And this is coming from someone that didn’t wish me a happy birthday…I don’t care about money, that’s my last concern, of course we all like nice things but it’s not everything.”
Why is your son better than you already? Why are you sitting here making me wish there’s a special section in hell for hateful pappies like you and Darth Vader? This is the same child that you famously paraded on stage in a bulletproof vest when he was just a wee little tyke, so one wonders just where that wisdom came from.
Did it make you feel good to write: “I rewrote my will today now when I pass away all my physical property’s and MOST of my money go’s [sic] to charities and TIFFANY LIGHTY so when I’m done she can be 50 Cent?”
The really sick part is you texting 'to his mama' – again, on your son’s phone – that you "need a blood test cause that d*** sucking b***h you call mom was f***ing the hole time [sic].”
So you have a contentious relationship with your ex…you aren't alone. A lot of men don't get along with the woman who carried their children and bear the burden of raising said children largely solo. So your son may be an obnoxious teenager (though it didn't seem like it from his texts, just sayin')…again, you aren't alone. There is no reason for a man to speak to and of his child that way. The irony of you accusing him of only caring about your money, yet having little to say about attempts to spend time with him or anything else that you have offered to young Marquis' life.
Oh, and how dare you ask for a paternity test when your son couldn't look more like you if he had a picture of you stapled to his forehead? C'mon, son.
I try not to wish ill on people, but this is the kind of evilness that makes me hope you’re burdened with the shade of Uncle Sam and the kind of pain only a burning sensation with urine can bring. No wait, you know what you and Kirk need? A visit from Joe Jackson’s past, A Christmas Carol style. That’ll learn ya.
Michael Arceneaux is the author of the “The Weekly Read,” where tough love is served with just a touch of shade. Tweet him at @youngsinick.
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