In the past week I’ve seen the holy trinity of ratchetness. A picture of a mother in club wear busting it open while posing with her son at his graduation. A twitter profile of a teenager showing her pregnant stomach, hand on her hip, with #TeamSingle as her bio. An email that stated, “NC, I don’t feel comfortable asking him to take me out on a date, he trying to get on his feet after getting arrested.” What the fuck is wrong with this world? Mothers minus panties switch around high school graduations looking for a man, lactating little girls take to twitter to find a boo, and chicks are throwing pussy at incompetent D-boys for Snapple and Wicked Chicken. I know a lot you who read BGAE tend to be on the more educated and classy side, but I would not be doing my duty if I didn’t take a break from Spartan training to address some of the more basic women. No matter where you live you can’t help but notice the en’ratched, you probably are friends with one or two, see them mugging you at work, or maybe you follow them on Twitter for laughs because they love saying random shit for attention. They are the girls that spend forty minutes in the bathroom taking instagram pics, but won’t take ten minutes to send out a resume. Miss StartedFromTheBotttomNowIGotIndianHair, can’t get a man to do more than fuck her, but knows exactly why you’re single. And let’s not forget Shorty that did one semester of college, and now has a Maya Angelou quote for every occasion. I’m sure these ratchets will probably never even read past the first paragraph unless a picture of Trey Songz, dick swinging in sweatpants, were to follow but I have to speak on it. Hoodrats are highly contagious and even those from good homes get sucked into the dramatic ways or ratchetdom. These females represent the most basic and non-filtered part of humanity, which always comes across as funny and entertaining—at first. Once you see a 30 year old woman try to solve bullying by dragging her kid to another kid’s house to fight “scrate up”, it stops being funny. We all like to cut loose and drop the formal mask around friends or turn up when it’s time to celebrate, but some people live every day with no chill. It’s cool to be yourself and not give a fuck, but a lot this hoodrat behavior is fake; manufactured for the sole purpose of getting attention. Trolling the internet saying the most sensational shit in order to get a reaction, talking loud on the phone so everyone can hear the important shit they have to say, and confronting any and every one in dramatic fashion, as if their lives were being tapped for a reality show. Hoodrat shit: a deadly combination of ignorance and attention whoring.
We all like to laugh at videos and instances of people taking it to the extreme ratchet, but how many of you can honestly say that you don’t do shit just as ignorant on a regular basis? Making fun of girls who get pregnant, but you’ve had the “fuck once with a condom, after that we can go raw” mentality since high school. Accusing people of having funky attitudes, when you constantly eye roll, and respond to conflict with other women with “you look like–” insult jokes and to relationship drama with “sowhatsowhatsowhat!!! But you with me tho!” immaturity. Not all ratchets can easily be pointed out by the leopard print and drawn on eyebrows, and a lot of you calling someone else ratchet is like Akon cracking on Flava Flav for being darkskin. Look at your own life before you pile on someone else. You no longer have to be from the hood to be a hoodrat, it’s not just black girls. It’s a mentality that’s mimicked across races and class thanks to TV, music, and the internet. Basic Bitches talking about, “I got an Iphone and a Louie bag, get on my level” but they spray perfume on their coochie, and call that a shower. Miss Book smart over in the UK is top of her class but she’s on the tube ready to fight because some Asian chick looked at her funny. And let’s not forget how ratchet white girls turned Mardi Gra into the hot mess it is today. Hoodrat behavior is everywhere because acting untamed is exhilarating. For guys being a thug is fun, they can pretend to be Pac circa All Eyez On Me, and it gives them an esteem boost… until a real thug runs up on them and JoJo Simmons that ass. For women, giving into that pure emotion of talk shit, pretend you know everything, and stay on the defensive, is much easier than showing the maturity to hold your tongue, listen, and discuss rationally. There is one aspect of the ratchet lifestyle I want to address, and that’s their relationships. It seems that more than any group of women, the ratchets are the ones who seem the most confused about what they want. Do you want a thug or a gentlemen? Do you want to be hood or high class? Do you strive to be K Michelle or Michelle Obama? Y’all honestly send mixed messages about what you want out of life by pursuing the same shit that you claim you’re better than.
Hoodrats & Matchmaking
I said this before and I will say this again, you get the quality of man you deserve. Show a hoodrat a nigga with a job and watch how quickly her pussy dries up. A dude working at H&R block, no kids, and driving an Altima has been trying to take you out to dinner for months, and you see him as thirsty. Let Reddz with the house arrest anklet, whose still serving rocks in front of his mother’s crib, say, “damn girl, bout time you getn’ ass”, and your heart skips a beat. One dude is telling you you’re pretty the other one is play wrestling with you because you got a smart mouth—we all know who’s going to get the pussy first. You’re attracted to basic men because you like to be treated basic. The goon who thinks courting you is telling you, “I bet that pussy smell like water,” is going to embed himself deep in your heart because that’s the kind of mannish person you desire the most. He’s rough around the edges, always saying smart shit, but he gives you that excitement and attention your ratchet ass thrives on. Drama is like KY jelly to hoodrats, give her a drop and you can slide right in. Stop lying to yourself, the glue from your milky way did not scramble your brains, you know damn well you’re afraid to have a conversation with a lawyer, and feel more comfortable talking to the nigga he represents. If you want a goon, get yourself a goon, there is nothing wrong with that, them niggas need love too. My beef is with the girls who complain about all they attract are thugs and ain’t shit men, as if they do not have a choice in the matter. How you act determines who you attract. You’re at a Mayweather fight party with a bright yellow skirt that’s an inch away from showing your birth canal, that’s not how you attract the Pediatrician in attendance. A true gentleman is going to be afraid of you. Your type usually comes complete with body glitter and crumpled up dollar bills. If he wanted to fuck a stripper, he would wait until closing time and kick out the $150. Why bother with the hoodrat conversation you’re going to give him, when all you represent is sex and ignorance? “I’m sexy as fuck, what successful man wouldn’t want me?” Plenty obviously, if the only guys you constantly pull don’t drive and think a proper birthday gift is offering to go Dutch on some Red Lobster. Rats want any male attention, that’s why they wear the brightest most exposing shit, and mistake eyeballs for accolades. If you want to be taken seriously, not just gawked at, know the difference between trashy and classy. Getting hoodrat sexy, no matter how nice your body is, will always alert the wrong type of man. Thugs are going to fight to see who gets to sit next to you at the party because a bad bitch flashing her freshly Naired vagina is exactly who he wants to be his next baby mama.
Why do you always meet the wrong guys? Because you shop in the wrong fucking neighborhoods, hang at the wrong fucking clubs, and get hooked up by the wrong fucking friends. What were the odds that Kate Middleton was going to marry a nigga named Deandre who had dreads, neck tats, and sold airbrushed Jordan’s out his car? 0%. Kate Middleton didn’t hang at the Slauson Swap Meet, she attended polo matches, garden party, and had a list of qualities that had to be met before she would even consider having tea with him. Million dollar pussy doesn’t downgrade, so I take it that 99% of y’all don’t believe your kitty has that kind of value. Of course you’re going to meet Deandre the hustle man and fall for his charm, you see him as your equal. There are women who are from the hood, but they go to school, and end up with great careers. Every other part of her life has been upgraded, except her choice in men. She enunciates her words better, hasn’t eaten a McNugget since ’07, wouldn’t dream of wearing anything other than red bottoms, but where it matters the most—her heart—she still wants the value meal nigga. If I hear, “I’m a registered nurse, and he’s between jobs” one more time I’m going to scream. All them niggas in the hospital and you’re still fucking TayTay who lives with his platonic baby mama while trying to get his mixtape to Rick Ross’s people??? You have so much going on, but subconsciously you run away from powerful men, and run back to the same, “put money on my books” niggas you should have stopped fucking in high school. I can’t believe you met a d-boy at the Trinidad James concert, what were the chances of that? If you go to hoodrat events, you are going to get approached by those type of men that are into that same hoodrat shit. Any man can turn out to be a bad apple, but you have to play the percentages in life. No matter if you’re Hoodrat Hanna who doesn’t work and has two kids or CEO Candice with a condo and no kids, you determine the level of man you allow into your world. I’ve heard ratchet hoes say shit like, “He looks soft.” Why are the prerequisites for being your boyfriend the ability to street fight or bust a gun? What kind of Fast & Furious shit are you preparing to get into that you need someone that “looks hard”? I’ve hung with some of the corniness looking actors who you see on TV, but them niggas drop that professional front and go hard just like my boys back home. Not all Boss type dudes are in the hood, are a certain race, or dress like a rap video. Instead of figuring out where the entrepreneurs hang at in your city, you go to the same spots you’re familiar with looking for that needle in the haystack. Let me know how that works out for you
Hoodrats & Relationships:
Real love is letting you hit the blunt first. Real love is not pulling out. Real love is him using a condom with them other hoes. Real love is giving you back shots after you curse him out. Real love is putting five dollars in the gas tank. Real love is choking you after you like another nigga’s FB status. Real love is, “you know you my bitch… alright then, shut the fuck up.” There aren’t enough emoji’s in the world to describe the insane treatment that Hoodrats allow. You would think those that are so loud, matter-a-fact, and no nonsense would be—well, no nonsense. It’s all a front, ratchets act out, cry, say they deserve better, then run back to their basic boyfriends because the constant arguing and fighting is the only love they understand. If he’s angry that means he cares. If he says that the other bitch he slid off with wasn’t as good as you were, it means you’re #1 in his heart. If he’s willing to fuck you raw, that means you’re special. It sounds silly to the enlightened, but these are the unsaid beliefs that these type of women hold onto. Right now, some ratchet is arguing with one of her hoodrat friends about how her baby daddy loves her because he always runs back. Hoodrats refuse to believe they’ve made a mistake when it comes to men, she knows she’s bomb and he’s the one, and all they need is time to get right. He fucked your cousin, and you dry your tears with, “But we going to be okay, these hoes can’t stop us.” There is no loyalty like that ignorant hoodrat loyalty. Ladies get what they deserve. Hoes get what they barter for. Hoodrats get what a nigga is willing to give them. I hate when people say that black women have attitudes or Latinas are all crazy, that’s a racist ass generalization that shows that you haven’t traveled enough. Any girl with this hoodrat mentality, regardless of race, will display stereotypical behavior and act defensive and stubborn because of their insecurities. Those “Iknowwhatiknowcusiknowwhatiknow nigga!” arguments are common because in a hoodrat’s mind, what she says is always right and what she does is near flawless. Anything she did that can be seen as fucked up and wrong, she defends with the logic that “they had it coming, I’m not the one.” Any man who didn’t want to be with her is dismissed with, “he’s gay” or “wasn’t shit, anyway” Hoodrats admit fault with an asterisk, they never truly apologize for that behavior, and that’s the most frustrating part because you cannot reason with them. The ghettos of America are filled with hoodrats who have been breaking up and getting back together with their loser boyfriends for years. If you dare to be logical and say, “why don’t you just find someone else”, she’ll bite your head off with, “Tell him to go find somebody else! That nigga keeps calling me crying, if anybody should find somebody else it’s thatbitchasssbrokeasslittledickassnigga!!!” It’s funny yet tragic because they will always play the victim, the person in the right, or the innocent bystander when it comes to continuing a fucked up relationship that has no business continuing. It’s never their choice or fault.
On the other hand, Hoodrats can be powerful creatures capable of breaking hearts. It’s always funny to see a real hood bitch collide with a square who thinks that pretty boy or prince charming swag can tame the Savage in Yaki #22. These type of niggas go above and beyond for that girl without even understanding her true personality. She has no filter, sassy, and likes to drink Henny out the bottle—this nigga thinks that’s cute. What these squares don’t realize is that these type of girls aren’t Rihanna posing for instagram pictures, they’re really about that life. They get bored easily, live to argue, and can only cum if a nigga is pounding the pussy like he hates her. Go ahead and think taking her to the movies, sending her flowers, and eating her box slow and gently will make her love you. Earth to motherfucking Dave. Ratchets appreciate sweet shit like holding her hair when she’s giving head, not eating all the French fries from the bottom of the bag, and letting her use your last name in her twitter handle. Don’t get it twisted, Hoodrats aren’t always hoes, most are not going to pimp men for luxury goods, they play guys in another way. They happily entertain the square niggas because being able to say, “I gotta man” means more than actually having the man they want. Once that novelty wears off, she goes to find her excitement elsewhere. I remember my boy got this section 8 house for the summer (don’t laugh), and when I would come visit he would always have these random ratchets hanging out drinking and geeking. Having freaks around is normal, but all the girls I remember meeting had boyfriends and made it a point to tell us like they were hot shit because they had options. For some reason Hoodrats love to emulate males, “yeah I got a main dick, and I got hoes!” That pimp bravado is sexy to them. Even with a main dick, these girls wanted to come chill with my thug ass homeboy and any nigga who came thru that crib because it was more fun than what their boyfriends offered. We drank, we smoke, we talked back, and I guess that’s the kind of attention that made their rhinestone covered toes curl. Hoodrats aren’t necessarily sluts, but they need a level of excitement that some guys just can’t give them. Ratchets can’t go on the internet and write, “went to go see Wicked on Broadway, it was amazing.” They need to write something that will make them seem special and create jealousy, “I was at a cookout and Chad Ochcocino was in that bitch eyeing me all day #AssBeenPhat” I don’t blame the hoodrat, I blame that nigga for thinking he could tame a Burger King bitch with Ruth’s Chris. “Hey Keisha let’s go smoke hookah and play miniature golf”, know who you’re dealing with, homie. Keisha wants to roll up kush, argue her opinions on why Kim Kardashian and her money ain’t shit, and cap her night off by getting porno dicked to the timeless sounds of Boosie Bad Azz. If you can’t give her that, then she’s going to find it with some nigga who has less than you, doesn’t do half as much for her, and may not even look as good—but guess what? He gets it pop’n, Ayyyyyy!
Hoodrats & Change
I believe that all women deserve to be Queens, but the problem is some of them fear sitting in a throne. There are thousands of hoodrats who matured and grew out of that basic ass lifestyle, they don’t need to be seen, heard, or hang around a group of dudes to feel important. Those are the ones who have all kinds of stories about how wild they used to be, or remind you that they can “still bring the hood out” if needed, but keep it classy 90% of the time. Then there are the ones who continue to do hoodrat stuff with their friends because that’s the only life they understand. All girls do ratchet shit, usually admitting to the small infractions that can be viewed as cute. Few are willing to admit openly that they will do anything for attention, that they have inferiority complexes, or they’re over 25 and not only fucking with bums, but extremely attracted to those type of men. Honestly, you can’t try to check those girls because they’ll ask with hands clapping, “why you in my business tho I must be important!” or scream “you don’t even know me like that!” At the same time I can’t judge them because who has the right to tell a person to go against what makes them happy? Being someone’s bottom bitch gives them a purpose. Blow ups followed by makeup sex every other week, is their definition of romance. Supporting a grown man with her hard earned money makes her feel needed. Arguing with loudness instead of debating with facts, makes her feel smart. This is the lifestyle hoodrats pretend to hate, but genuinely love. These women wouldn’t know how to act if a man didn’t bring some kind of drama to the relationship, she didn’t have any rival bitches to label haters, or strangers on the internet to try and show off for. It’s misleading to think these women will grow out of it, because most don’t, they fall deeper into basicness and see the idiots on Bad Girls Club or the attitude with ass chicks on Love & Hip Hop and think that’s how, “real bitches get down”. We enjoy hoodrats because they’re walking train wrecks who never heard an argument they didn’t want to be in, met a man who they didn’t think they could change, or wore an outfit that needed panties. They act out because they’re not content with who they are inside, but instead of fueling their drama, encouraging their ignorance, and applauding their ratchetness, maybe we should let them in on the secret, we’re not laughing with you, we’re laughing at you.
PS. If you’re reading this site for the first time because someone sent you this link… they‘re politly telling you that you’re ratchet. Get your life.