Following Ice Cube’s recent Seattle concert, a letter was found in his dressing room revealing deep insight into his relationship with his cousin Del tha Funky Homosapien.
Dear Del,
Before I even get started, please know I ain’t about to write, say, or even think “Del tha Funky Homosapien” ever in my life again after this point. I’m your cousin, and I respect you and all, but the fact that you went from spelling it “Funkee” to “Funky” on your latest album Eleventh Hour just tells me you aren’t that serious about what folks call you. So you just Del to me from now on. (If you wanna switch the whole thing up, give me a call and we’ll spitball some options. Ice Cube, after all, sounds as hard as it did back when Eazy-E’s Jheri curl was cool, may he rest in peace.)
Anyway, I’m not writing you to ride your name. I want you to co-star with me in this new comedy I’m shopping around in Hollywood. I’m calling it The MCs Roadshow.
The story goes like this. There’s these two rappers who are both cousins, just like you and me. One’s name is “Slick Willie” and the other one’s name is “Mel the Funkee Pirate.” Now don’t get offended—I promise your name was not the inspiration for that character. I made that shit up one day when I was chilling with the homey Shaq. You can’t really get mad about that anyway, because you let them Gorillaz motherfuckers turn you into an animated character for that song “Clint Eastwood,” which, sad to say, may be the biggest hit you ever have.
But, like that nigga Snoop say, back to the lecture at hand. I’m gonna play Slick Willie. He’s a L.A.-based MC who wants to make gangsta records that pack a political punch, kinda like how I did back in the day with AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted and Death Certificate. You’re gonna play “Mel,” and if you agree to do this you’re gonna have to wear an eyepatch and a hook for a hand. (Which you best not have a problem with, either; you already got all them damn piercings in your face.)
He’s more of a battle-rapper with a sense of humor who sorta lives in the shadow of his cousin, the more successful, accomplished, and attractive one. This AIN’T based on real shit, I PROMISE you.
I haven’t worked out all the details yet (you don’t need details in Hollywood, so long as you have what they call a “bankable” star—that’s me), but somehow Slick and Mel end up hitchhiking across the country playing shows in school gymnasiums and old people’s homes and other off-the-wall places in order to pay their way for some road trip they’re taking for some reason. From there, like my agent says, hilarity capped off by a life-affirming message ensues. It’s a hit waiting to happen.
Look: I liked Eleventh Hour well enough. I know you basically produced the whole thing yourself (which explains all them Nintendo sounds), and I know that, ever since the time you put in working with my group Da Lench Mob, you been more or less doing your own thing, dropping records once every 10 years or whatever. But I wanna take you to the top, something that no one—not your old label Hieroglyphics and not your new one Def Jux—has been able to do.
Now I got to stop fretting over you, and get back to promoting my new album, Raw Footage, and my new movie, The Longshots, because that’s how you make it in the entertainment industry—by busting your ass making mediocre shit, something you gotta learn if you wanna get outa the underground.
Peace,
Ice Cube
VIA:Seattle Weekly
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