After being blown off by a friend, because he doesn’t subscribe to the G-eazy life and chose to indulge in the cholesterol that is Sainsburys (it’s been a long day) I got this postmonition (like a premonition but I saw the past) of the 27 rules of the pimp game by Rosebudd. I forgot to download that many podcasts last time I went to China so I was stuck with a few recently played ones, I’ve got most of them memorised now. Anyway I thought of this little one, it didn’t really apply to the situation but it seems like something to talk about. Also since this blog is pg-13 I’ve decided to blank out that nasty cuss word.
11) Be sure not to pimp past one ho, trying to get at another one.
This mainly applies when you are down on a fresh ho. A lot of niggas take the pimping as a game. This shit is real. I saw a lot of pimps have a new broad in the car, the ho is paying attention to his every word and the fool starts f**king with some hos on the track. Catch the ho in the car, pimp. Then when her ass is on the track, you can fuck with all of the hos.
No I don’t really intend on spending my career catching hoes, I’ll probably going to end up in some research facility if I’m honest, but it’s something that can probably be applied to life. It’s strange that I’m finding knowledge in the works of an esteemed American pimp but desperate times.
I suppose this one relates to mastery of skills. Finishing one before starting the next at fear of losing both in the process of trying to cope with both. I started violin a few years ago, I’ve been playing piano for close to 10 years now. I got grade 8 for the piano last year and I’m doing grade 5 for violin now. I’m glad I started the violin so much later, there’s no chance I could have been practising piano properly if I also had a violin of equal difficulty, it’s hard enough jamming one fat person through a door let alone two.
Perhaps its a lesson in completion, finishing things to their end instead of patting yourself on the back at the midway point, this one seems nicer. I hear this thing about punching through the finish line a lot, I’ve only realized pretty recently it’s actually a thing. Last weeks canal loop was pretty mundane, no one really ran full pelt but after a few k everyone’s pretty tired. I’m matching speed with my friend for the whole race, until the last straight. Eyes lock then we start sprinting, fast as possible. It’s quite a nice feeling emptying your batteries to their bottom. I won eventually but Rosebudd speaks volumes here. I could’ve stopped halfway and celebrated (the proverbial messing with other hoes on the track) but I had to seal the deal first before I laughed at his face and ribbed him for the next few months (messing with all the hoes on the track).
So there’s how some sagacious, old, black pimp taught a young grasshopper how to live his life.