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Thursday, April 10, 2014

Lil' Wayne and Birdman Confront Al Sharpton About Working With the Feds

Rev. Al Sharpton sits by himself at a long table in a blank conference room. In front of him on the table is a black leather briefcase. Though it rests on the table, Sharpton clutches tight to the handle. CEO of Cash Money Records (and their book publishing wing, Cash Money Content), Bryan “Baby” Williams walks in. His “son,” rap star and President of Cash Money Records, Lil’ Wayne trails him. Baby leans in to kiss the reverend, but Sharpton jerks back and stares at Baby, quizzically raising one eyebrow. Baby watches Sharpton, a puzzled expression passes over his tattooed face, then he and Lil’ Wayne look at one another in confusion. They shrug and kiss each other’s lips before sitting across from Sharpton.   

BABY: Morning, woadie.

SHARPTON: Morning, gentlemen.

LIL’ WAYNE: Young Moolah, bayyybeee.

BABY: That’s a nice briefcase you got there Rev.

SHARPTON: Um, yeah. Thanks. What can I do for you fellas?

BABY: We called you in here because we got a little bit of a problem.


BABY: Uh, yeah. Me and the young’un—as publishers of your memoir, The Rejected Stone—are troubled by these snitching allegations that’s been leveled against you. For obvious reasons, we can’t have no FBI informants around our business. We always insist that everyone associated with us have the finest moral character, which is why we signed convicted sex offender Mystikal to a record deal. Ain’t that right, Wayne?

WAYNE: Young Moolah, bayyybeee!

BABY: So we have no choice but to void your contract, recall all unsold copies of your book and pulp them in a warehouse right here in New Orleans.

SHARPTON: (clutching tightly to his briefcase) Wait, just a minute, Baby. That’s a drastic step. I was not and am not a rat, because I wasn’t with the rats. I’m a cat. I chase rats. I’m such a cat, the other day I asked myself, I said, “Why must I be like dat, why must I chase the rat?”  And plus those FBI guys are such nice fellas. I rememba a while back I was talking to them about some Black Panthers, friends of mine. Of course, those guys are doing life in prison now…

BIRDMAN: Now look here Rev., I’m the #1 Stunner. The Birdman. I didn’t get rich by being a fool, now. Ever since I read about the COINTELPRO, I been on edge about the feds. I mean, illegal surveillance, harassment, beatings and assassinations of activists. Seems like a community activist like yourself would stay the hell away from the FBI. I don’t like taking unnecessary chances, myself…

WAYNE: Unnecessary chances, bayyybeee!

SHARPTON: He all right?

BABY: You gotta forgive my son, he ain’t had his morning promethazine yet.

WAYNE: Promethazine, bayyybee.

BIRDMAN: (turning to Lil’ Wayne) Hey, lil bruh, you might want to take your own advice and move in silence like the “g” in Lasagna.

WAYNE: Sorrryyy, Daaadddyyyy.

BABY: Say, Rev., do you hear a buzzing sound?

SHARPTON: Buzzing sound? Naw, I don’t hear nothing. Now, Baby, I understand your concern. Yes, I did serve as an FBI informant in the ‘80s. And yes, I did wear a wire when meeting with mafia figures, but it’s not how it sounds. I mispronunciated every word so that the tape was useless. Neither the FBI, nor the mafia had any idea what the hell I was talking about. I use a very similar technique on my television show.

BABY: Well, Rev. that makes a lot of— What is that buzzing sound? It’s getting louder. You hear that son?

WAYNE: It’s the briefcase, Daaadddyyy!

BABY: Briefca— Rev., you taping this conversation, woadie?

SHARPTON: Well, it’s been good talking to you fellas, but I gotta run.

(Sharpton grabs the briefcase and darts from the room.)

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