Wait, Just Whisper in My Ear: Ying Yang is Bang Bang

The lyrics to the Ying Yang Twins song “Wait (The Whisper) are emailed to me at least five times a week. That is four more than the Michael Jackson jokes and five less than ‘Did you see Destiny’s Child’s BET Awards lap dance?’ And like with most hip hop songs, I’ll admit, until I saw the lyrics, I heard but did not heed the words. I’ll also admit, like with most hip hop songs, I could have been satisfied the rest of my life if I’d never seen the words. But it is a hot topic of conversation.

My girlfriends cannot wait to tell me how disgusting the song is. ‘If a man came up on me talking like that, he’d never get some, let alone any.”

My male friends quickly let me know they think the song is disgusting too … while their tone feels me out to know, ‘Do I really think it’s disgusting? Am I a gamer? Just how freaky do you be woman?

And since I got into an interesting discussion with a close male friend who seemed to doubt the sincerity of my take on the song, let me put pen to paper to hold me accountable for my words.

To my girlfriends, y’all need to stop lying. To my male friends, let me give you some truth. Men want a lady in the streets and a freak in the bed. Women want a man in the streets and a freaky lover who loves them in the bed. So no, overall ‘The Whisper Song’ does not bother me.

Yes, the words are pathetically tired and crass, but work them with me …

… Replace either of the twins, Lord knows we have to do that, or the image of that one jeri curl Negro that’s always in the club, with the object of your desire. If you don’t have a man in or coming in your life, Taye Diggs or LL will suffice.

Drop the repetitive need of the man to display the ‘brilliance’ of his 2nd brain, although I’m inclined to believe anyone who does this not only has one brain, or none, what he does have probably isn’t worth a play, splay, or display.

Drop all references to thumbs, bats, and cats, of any form.

Place the scene wherever you like to get it on or where you want to get it on (remember, some public displays of affection hold danger) …

and you’re left with 30 lines of, exhale, hot searing heat.

Women like heat. Men like women unabashedly unafraid of the power of that heat.

“Hey how you doin lil mama? lemme whisper in your ear

Tell you sumthing that you might like to hear

You got a sexy ass body and your ass look soft

Mind if i touch it? and see if its soft”

… he says to you as his lips slowly nuzzle the soft curves of your neck.

“Naw i’m jus playin’ lets just say i can

And i’m known to be a real nasty man

And they say a closed mouth don’t get fed

So i don’t mind asking for your head”

… he shyly says, more a question than a sureness of fact. In his eyes you see the twinkle he gets at the mere sight of you. A sly smile plays over his face as the tip of his tongue plays peek a boo across his lips.

“we need to make our way to the bed”

… and the kitchen counter, and the couch, and the stairs, you think, as he majestically finishes out the song’s lyrics.

Now tell me that visualization is not hot, and loud.

Of course, not every hip hop song can be reduced so eloquently. Sweat dropping off the balls. Sorry, it doesn’t work for me. Maybe because, contrary to what some may think, I truly don’t have any balls, brass, plastic, or otherwise. But what I do have, like most of us, when truth is told, is imagination, which when coupled with hip hop like this gets the ‘creative’ juices flowing. Exhale.

Hip hop has a deserved rap for the misogynation of women. But before we throw the baby out with the bath water because baby talks trash, let’s honestly lay out our honesty with ourselves, and each other. Who knows, we just might find it brings us mutual satisfaction.