Lauren-LondonWhy did you have to fall off so damn bad?

Dear Lady,

For weeks I’ve been trying to write you. I’ve been asking my Cousin and my Egyptian friend about you because they see you for what you are. They’ve seen you in the club, in public, heard you on the radio and have made various ideas and thesis about you. I wish you weren’t the way you were, they wish you weren’t the way you were but sadly – there is a point for your existence.

Otherwise you wouldn’t give the ignorant men of the world babies, and time in the Barbershop to talk about your slowly confusing and trifling self.

You love to call yourself “5-Star” and that you have the best sex game in the world but sadly cannot keep a man interested in your conversation unless it is about sex. Your idea of a simple, romantic night revolves around a club and then some passionless sex inside of a hole in the wall motel because you can’t sneak the guy in your mother or grandmother’s house.

Your eyes light up when you see a BMW riding around your neighborhood, a man taking you to Red Lobster on a “date” Is your end all be all and you blow up his phone with text messages but none of them reach any higher on the interest pole than a giant, all-caped LOL.

Somehow you flock to men who wear the t-shirts of rock bands, believing that all black people should listen to rap music and only rap music that simply knowing a band that doesn’t get play on 97.9 makes you want to drop your panties because you instantly claim that the “guy” is different. You make the same repetitive Facebook statuses whenever it comes to your problems, every birthday ends the same way – “this year will be different” when in all actuality, it turns out worse.

What screams interesting, dateable and possibly “wifey” about you? If Plies has said it, you’ll immediately fall for it believing you would let him hit it raw just once, maybe even twice since you feel the first time wasn’t a true showing. So why do others call you basic? Why do they laugh because you love your heels and your stilettos and can’t seemingly find progress in your life because you constantly sell yourself Bushwick Bill short?

Every inch of your body might be covered in a tattoo that you got on a spur of the moment and when you try to make sense of it, you get confused looks and constant stares of “whatever”, if you hear a Katt Williams quote or a Gucci Mane song and take something from it, you will be repeating that statement as if they are words to live by. Taking care of your star player, telling me men are like buses & let’s not forget any song that comes on with a little bit of degradation in it.

“But he ain’t talkin’ about me tho!”

Yes lady, you are a basic, atypical, stereotypical, sad piece of a woman who believes that her worries will be solved by Barack Obama just because he is black and is the President. Since you pay more attention to VH1 as opposed to what’s going on to CNN, that you want to achieve to be a reality star instead of an actual actress, then you are basic to the end. You have no self-esteem of your own because it is manufactured on hip-hop and the gossip you hear in the beauty shop.

If you want to know why guys choose to date your friends instead of you and you’ve found something in this letter to make you understand why you are basic then get your ass off of your momma’s fouton and do something good – and don’t tell me good is taking your time out to read a Zane book.

Here is your ode, Ms. Basic – and the sad part is, you may believe that it’s a great song since there’s a random chipmunk sample in it. Sigh, thankfully there are non-basic superwomen out there who I seek as opposed to your ass. And by the way, every rap lyric does not apply to your life. And do not try to be deep on Facebook on a social networking site when you’re about as dumb as a ninth grade student who holds his books upside down.

DOWNLOAD: 88-Keys – Wasting My Minutes (featuring Kid Cudi)