There's nothing softer than an adult engaged in an hour-long text conversation. Especially when it's a man attempting to gauge if he's in line to get some drawers from the woman he's texting. That shit is downright disgusting; nigga, put some bass in your voice. In the days of Pay Phone Pimpin' none of this fruitcake shit was happening. Yes, pay phones. Call that broad up. You'll know where the fuck you stand in four minutes (five if you have an extra nickel to extend the time). To my chagrin, pay phones are slowly going the way of the quetzalcoatlus and so is straight-to-the-point communication.
I'm not going to write a dissertation on this ho-like, text-a-broad-all-day behavior and why we need to bring back pay phones - you can find that in my upcoming book, Root for the Villain: Rap, Bullshit, and a Celebration of Failure - but I did shoot a short film clip about why Pay Phone Pimpin' is an absolute must in this day of quasi-communication and showcase how I handled Pay Phone Pimpin' in the early '90s. Find that video and a bullet-pointed list of why Pay Phone Pimpin' must return to our daily lives below.
Pay Phone Pimpin' is the shit because:
- Superman didn't change outfits at a T-Mobile store.
- you can't text Ghostbusters.
- you can't receive an LOL from a pay phone. Or a smiley face; Or a wink; Or a FWD; Or any of that other fructose fruitiness. Not unless you own a pager. If you still own a pager, you're exempt from all of this.
- you had to convince the broad to come outside in a matter of minutes. Cutting to the chase improved your mack tactics tenfold. Especially if you were fresh out of change and there was a muthafucka waiting to use the phone after you.
- conversation is more valuable when you're paying for it by the minute.
Video: J-Zone - Pay Phone Pimpin . Dial tone on a bitch.