Damn, Homie!

Lil' Creole Pimp Filed Under: Tags: , , high school you was the man homie. What happened to you !?

Apparently, the Smart Guy himself, Tahj Mowry, is a actor turnt sanga and shit these days. He phoned this shit in and his call needs to drop. In the words of the great JORIDIOR, when you become a hasbeen actor, "Start a family. Milk a goat. Eat a dick. Goodbye."

Marcus, Yvette, Mo', Mackey, Ray Campbell, SOMEBODY... come get TJ, stat!

The Word. Hater. Leave It Home.

Lil' Creole Pimp Filed Under: Tags: ,

The word hater, readership, is under my damn skin. Today Zahara called me a hater b/c she texted me some mo' shit 'cuz I told her to go brush her damn head. You can't find a comb, but I'm the hater?

A piece was written on why you nukkabitches need to get a life and fresh crackers and I'm here to share it. The homie and friend to the 'Chama Syndicate @JDANTV just lit a fuse under asses everywhere, trust me. If you have any disagreements go by this lil' ditty my homie says, "A hit dog always hollas!" I may be sick of the word "hater", but I will hate all of you if you don't read this post!

Peep a chunk of the best you'll ever read.

"The word ‘hater’ is tired. It’s worn out. It’s lame, and it’s following me everywhere I go...."
"There was a time in this country, and in the black community, where someone could express their dislike for something, and the recipient of that opinion would actually consider whether or not that person’s opinion was valid. Perish the thought in 2009."

For more scurry on down the yellow brick Hadley street road to NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS.

This Shit Right Here...

Lil' Creole Pimp Filed Under: Tags: why I hate your cousins. Give them dexterity and they come back to Booty Do? If you like it then, shit, I guess.

Fan Mail

The Management Filed Under: Tags: ,

Readership, looka here.

Every now and again I get viewermail that's angrier than next Tuesday. I usually CTRL ALT DEL that shit when I sense the sender's blood pressure rising, but sometimes they turn out to be Gifts from Virgos. Or Cancers.

This mail I got last night troubled me, so I wanna share it with you.


"Dear Asshole,

You think you funny, don'tchu? You think just cause you got a Twitter page you can talk shit? You think just cuz you got more followers than people you follow, you the shit huh? Well let me tell you something, you ain't shit. You never was shit. You ain't gon' never be shit.

When I found out about this pissy ass, trick ass, TONY ass site, I thought it was something like Beyonceitis at first. Then I read the second POST. I slapped the shit outta Angie for sending me that fucking link. That hurted my soul. You hurted my soul. That lil' bad ass reason why I can't have drapes on my windows cause he always find a way to burn 'em down is my soul, DAMMIT!

When I founded out, it hurt me right here. *holding chest* Yes, I laughed a little and it kinda hurt because I had bronchitis that day. But then your lil' shenanigans kept on coming. Got hella popular on the underground side of the internet. I'm here in the fucking studio tryna write the twelfth song on why I can't stand TONY remedial football playing ass and you got my producers asking me "How Lil' Creole Pimp doing?"


That is not his name. His name is Julez. L before the E. Not Juelz.



He is not Santana. No son of mine is wearing no bandanas on his head unless it's plaid and shiny, because I encourage all things different.

But I digress.

I'd like to come down to your local Wal-Mart and catch you bent over in the produce section, witcha greens eating ass. I'll turn over my shopping cart on you, dammit! Wait 'til I find out who you is.

Just wait.

1998. Chevy Corrolla. Head lights off. Windows down. You better fucking run.

Godspeed, fuckface.


Fuck you,

Signed Sincerely


You know what my sister said when I tol't her? Nothing. Just stared at me. Like she was auditioning for a fucking movie. Nothing. 

Understand this frightened me. I don't know if it's real or not, but the email address was "" so... Yeah. I'ma take heed to this threat, so if you need me I'll be at the border.... Not the Mexican border. Taco Bell. I want a Nacho Bell Grande like a mug.

You've Officially Been 'Shopped & Screwed

Lil' Creole Pimp Filed Under: Tags: ,

In case you care... I really don't myself. I'm just waiting on the Leona Punchout video to drop. But this shit right here? This shit? ON A DAY THAT THE LORD MADE!? DeAndre, bruh? Nah, mayne. For good measure, let's blame Beyonce for both situations and move on. Especially for the Sharpie hairline.

That nigga hair DO look like rollie pollies, though

Message From The Management

The Management Filed Under: Tags: ,

Readers, looka here...

Every now and again, we sit back and laugh at people who give themselves too much credit. Singers who can't sing for instance. Songwriters who fly above all the drama, for instance. Select audience members of Wendy Williams's Hasbeen Emporium who show up only to further their career during "Ask Wendy" or "Hot Mess Topics". And last but not least, bloggers who made a lil' money and now they smelling they own piss.

Around here in the Wig Crypt, we have a lil' sayin' about situations like this. "You done got put on and got Creole!" It means, you got a lil' shine, a lil' bank account, a lil' gap in yo' mouth closed, a new wig and now you all beside yourself and Jesus can't even tell you shit. On Hadley, we like to slap the truth into people. The truth in question? Yo' lil' AdSense dollars don't impress me.

My lil' AdSense dollars will be coming soon and I'ma be paying both of my two bills smoove off, if everything goes to plan. But that's neither here nor there nor across the street. [© MY HOMIE TRE]

This is to all bloggers who have showed out a little too much lately.

I can only say so much about bloggers who show up and start showing out like they doing something. So you turned the sidewalk into the catwalk. So what? So you got Solange's number in yo' Motorola sliding phone? So what? So you can buy the new red bottoms for your Aunt Gladys and her life partner Meeka? So what? Bitch, you a still blogger. That's not directed at nobody in specific... but this next paragraph is.

Sandra Rose, grow the fuck up. They gave you a lil' computer time at the retirement home and you don't know how to act, do you? You too old to be beefing, period. You too old to be on the Internet, period. You too ugly to be putting your pictures out there, period. You need to tell Tiny to tell Toya to tell James Hardy he too damn tall to run so fucking slow, IMHO. And tell Toya, next time I'm getting my teeth bleached and I pass by her in the lobby... I don't care if she DID just get her braces tightened, she can fucking say hey or something. She can speak.

But I digress.

Anyway. As the swag effervescent Kid Fury of SO FURIOUS DOT COM once said [last night on TWITTER], Blogger does not equal celebrity. I'm looking forward to the corresponding Fury TV PSA.

I'm looking real hard at you right now. You know who you is. No hate. I ain't mad atcha. But I'm looking REAL hard. This concludes this random rant, cause I know you want me to shut up.... so I'ma shut up.... but when you leave... I'ma start back talking again.

Message From The Management

The Management Filed Under: Tags:

Readership looka here,

Every now and again I'm back in this blogging game on a consistent level and you can't tell me shit! Now that the great, swag effervescent FRESHANIA DEBARGE put a playa on you can't tell me shit even more! I gotta get back into this game called Blogger on the daily level. Even if I don't post five days out the weekend [the weekends are for hoe shit and Gucci Mane punchout concerts], you can catch a Creole tastic fuckery fest at my Twitter.

Hurry up before Solange knocks on my front door with that metal in her pocket and that drank in her cup!

Blacklisted: Lil' Mama

Lil' Creole Pimp Filed Under: Tags: , , ,

Shit you don't do to a Creole...

I feel it coming in the air. All these rhinestones everywhere. I'm sharpening my tool. Finna drop everythang that moves. Can't be scared when it comes down. Got a problem? Tell me now! Kiss Shad's alter-ego goodbye. Cuz we riding by her house, tonight!

I Don't Care Either...

Lil' Creole Pimp Filed Under: Tags: , , , ,

I think I found out why Tony stopped calling...

Nah... There's definitely something wrong with his phone... To be on the safe side don't sit by yours waiting for it to ring. For good measure, I'm gonna ask Brandy Jesus to take the shopping cart wheel.

This post was almost a "Lost In Translation" exclusive, but I don't even understand the Creole Dynamics anymore...
"Then I remember being 16 and being like ‘Okay, I can still be smart and I can still have the same beliefs that I have, but I did not have to have red Rasta braids. I can do that with straight hair. I can do that with a ‘fro. I can do that with a weave down to my butt.’ That was when I first cut my hair off. When I was 18 I got a hot flash because I was pregnant with [Julez] and I was like ‘It’s hot as hell so I’m cutting this shit off."
One day I'm leaving Hadley Street and I'm never coming back. Indulge some of that different shit at HONEYMAG.COM