Simply put, every Kid Cudi song I’ve ever
accidentally heard is him whining about being mistreated and wanting to be alone with his weed. He sounds like the perfect candidate for drug and alcohol counseling with a twist of suicide watch.
First and foremost, I refuse to call him Wah-lay. Grammatically speaking, his name is Whale, or Wail, accent be damned. Wale disguises love songs as hip and witty dance tunes, but he’s not fooling me. By the time he’s done reciting a love poem about twerking, it’s too late to turn away. He has your undivided attention and convinced you to buy flowers for your kid’s mom.
Rick Ross has been lying about his law enforcement past since 50 cent exposed it. To this day, he still won’t admit that he had a good job. Rather than kick the truth to the youth, he promotes imaginary drug dealing and surprise sex. Somebody needs to tell him he doesn’t have to lie to kick it.