<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
When I was a freshman in high school, my boyfriend was the star halfback of the football team. Since he couldn’t drink during the season, and there was nothing else to do in Hometown, we’d drive around in his old, primer-colored, full-sized Chevy pickup and listen to N.W.A., rapping along to such classics as “Fuck tha Police” and “8 Ball (remixed).” I realize now it wasn’t terribly appropriate for a 13-year-old girl to say things like, “And we’ll go at it punk, and I’m a-fuck you up!” Or for two of the whitest white kids ever to sing in unison: “Homies all standin’ around just hangin’. Some dope dealin’. Some gang-bangin’.” But I still look back on that innocent time with nostalgia.<\/p>\n
Maybe it’s because GTB has recently rediscovered an affinity for Carole King and Carly Simon, and I’ve decided I have to overcompensate by embracing misogynistic, crass, violent rap. In any case, I’ve gone back to my roots and have been listening to Straight Outta Compton pretty much nonstop. I bought it used for, like, $6 at the greatest CD store on Cap Hill a couple of weeks ago and anytime I can, I have it on my iPod or playing in the car. Not so much in front of other people, unless I’m already drunk, of course (Sorry, Jez and Biz!), because, ya know, it’s embarassing. I listen to it at the gym and pray that people around me won’t look at my iPod-holding arm-band-thing and see that I’m actually groovin’ to Dre and Ren and Easy E while I’m daintily peddling away on the elliptical trainer.<\/p>\n
But I love it and I don’t see myself tiring of Ice Cube and the boys anytime soon. So even though a few nights ago, I couldn’t sleep because the lines<\/p>\n
And all the bitches, you know I’m talking to you.
\n“We want to fuck you, Easy!”
\nI want to fuck you too,
\nbecause, you see, I don’t really take no shit.
\nSo let me tell you motherfuckas who you’re fuckin’ with.<\/p>\n
kept running through my head, I will continue to be one of the most ridiculous rappin’ white girls ever. <\/p>\n
Word.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
When I was a freshman in high school, my boyfriend was the star halfback of the football team. Since he couldn’t drink during the season, and there was nothing else to do in Hometown, we’d drive around in his old, primer-colored, full-sized Chevy pickup and listen to N.W.A., rapping along to such classics as “Fuck […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/149"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=149"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/149\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=149"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=149"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.hickopolis.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=149"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}