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Study: Beyonce Likely to Snatch Your Bitch



Watch out, fellas. A recent study conducted by Yale University grad students has confirmed a long-held suspicion by the staff here at RapNewz: pop icon Beyonce Knowles could effortlessly snatch your squeeze on a motherfucking whim if she so desired. Over a period of two years, Ivy-Leaguers Brittany Klooge and Jessica Marley surveyed over 2,000 women from all around the world about their sexuality, partners, and sexual openness to an all-night scissor session with the one and only Queen Bey. The results were positively eye-opening.

A startling 93% of respondents said they would quit their jobs, leave their partners, and estrange themselves from their own families if Beyonce showed even the slightest interest in being their significant other. The other 7% said they were actively stalking Beyonce already and expected her to warm up to them as their soul mate within the proximate year. In other words, 7% of the women surveyed were hysterically delusional.

The pair of researchers admitted that their own interest in the subject was sparked by what they called an “unexpected primal awakening” of their physical desires that the bodacious singer has caused in recent years. “Lesbihonest,” said Klooge, beginning her statement with a word rarely used by Yale doctoral candidates, “Beyonce is a goddamn feminine icon. Guys wanna be inside her, girls wanna be her. But did you ever stop and think that maybe girls wanna be inside her too? I did. Oh, I did…”

That’s all fine and well, of course, but we here at RapNewz wondered if women had forgotten about Beyonce’s husband Jay-Z in their haste to bag and (metaphorically) bone their idol. We assume that Jay lays claim to first dibbs on that ass; after all, the guy’s put over a decade into the relationship and even fathered a child – Blue Ivy Carter, who inked a $42 million recording contract just weeks after being born – with the star. When pressed on this issue, the researchers became intensely defensive and accused the legendary rapper of being a “cock-gobbling son-of-a-camel,” an allegation Hov flatly denied when we reached out to him.

After getting him on the phone, we also wanted to ask the obvious question: what does Jigga think about the female sex’s overwhelming obsession with his wife? “It’s none of my business, man – I’m a businessman,” he said casually, as if running a business somehow explained his openness to extramarital affairs. He paused a moment before adding, “You know a nigga would watch, though!”

dumbfricker asked: thank you for making this blog exist this is amazing

We would like to thank you profusely for your support, but we must also insist that you are simply too kind and that sort of attitude will get you nowhere in life. Consider yourself warned and thanked!

Saint Gabriel: Tupac Laying Major Pipe in Heaven



Saint Gabriel, perhaps best known for informing the Virgin Mary that she had been chosen by God to bear His one and only son, dropped by RapNewz headquarters yesterday to give us the most exclusive scoop we’ve ever gotten. He happened to stop by just after our entire office had taken mushrooms in a belated celebration of “Fungal Fridays.”

We agreed to give Saint Gabriel 15 minutes of our time. We wished we could’ve given him 20, but in 20 minutes we’d all be talking about how weird our fingers and toes were and emotionally debating whether grass screams when you cut it – their shrieks are just so high-pitched human ears can’t hear it – you know? You ever think about that?

“Listen, I know you guys are about to be tripping your balls off but I’m a huge fan of the blog and just wanted to give y’all some intel,” said the archangel, unraveling a massive baggie of shrooms onto a pizza, which he gobbled up swiftly and with miraculous ease.

We sat silently, pupils expanding, wondering if the holy figure knew he had just ingested biblical amounts of unfiltered trip fuel into his ethereal system.

“Just thought you might wanna know,” said Saint Gabriel nonchalantly, picking a stem half a foot long out of his teeth, “you know, about Tupac.”

Our pupils widened to points we didn’t know were physically possible.

Of course we wanted to know! What about Tupac? Is he alive? Is he back? Did you resurrect him to help revive the rap game? We asked Gabriel all of these questions through what we assumed was a form of universal Morse code. We poked RapNewz’s leather couch in various nonsynchronous time intervals in various places, and with differing levels of aggression.

“Are you HIGH?” he asked, somewhat disappointed, before realizing that the whole office was tapping code into a couch. “I apologize. Of course you’re high.” He lay down in midair, the early effects of his inadvisable ingestion of normally lethal amounts of psilocybin starting to alter his unimaginably superior consciousness. “No, Tupac died in a Las Vegas hospital in 1996 and we’re not bringing him back. Just wanted to give you an exclusive because…well, hell, I’m a fan! Is that cool?”

We realized we had these things called ears on the sides of our heads, and that they were perking up, whatever that meant. Yeah, that was cool. What’s the dish on Makavelli?

“Thought you might wanna know what Pac is up to in Heaven. Well, I’ll tell ya: dude is laying some SERIOUS pipe in them pearly gates. Ol Peter’s even thinking about calling it the pearly necklace for the dames that come through. I mean, I knew he got around, but damn! He’s hard to compete with! Marilyn Monroe, Anna Nicole Smith, Jane Mansfield, Farrah Fawcett, Cleopatra, Maya Angelou, Ayn Rand, Emily Dickinson – they’re all lining up to get a piece! And it’s Heaven, you know, so they’re all in their prime and shit, lookin’ like some straight 11’s! Marvin Gaye, the Kennedys,  Frank Sinatra, Wilt Chamberlain, Casanova himself, Gary Coleman…they’ve all filed formal grievances with The Lord saying Pac is hogging all the prime poon! And they ain’t lying, neither.” Gabe lit a Parliament and shook his head, exhaling and waiting for our reaction.


Lil’ Lincoln, the first mortal being in the newsroom to regain his grasp of the English language, suddenly sobered up.

“Did…did uh, you say Ayn Rand? And, uh, Maya Angelou?” he asked the archangel incredulously. “Weren’t they like, hella busted and whatnot?”

Gabe obviously knew the question would come and answered it with arrant disinterest as he stared at his holy thumbs, which he was twiddling ferociously.

“For Christ sake, Lil Lincoln, it’s HEAVEN we’re talking about here! If you lived a good life or were an intellectual powerhouse on earth, God has a little Shallow Hal program to make you look crazy fine.” He paused, rubbing his balls in desire. “Mother Teresa is a fuckin’ smokeshow back home.”

“And yeah, Tupac fucks her, too,” he added. “She might even be his bottom bitch at the moment.”

RapNewz correspondent Blaze Treeze was the next to gain command of his native language. “Did you mention Gary Coleman in the same breath as Sinatra, Marvin Gaye, and the Kennedys? Like he’s a player?”

“Big things come in small packages, if you know what I mean,” said Gabe, flashing a gregarious wink.

“Gabe?” said Treeze.

“Yeah Blaze?”

“Does grass, like, scream every time you cut it?”

Saint Gabriel sat up, floating in midair. “No,” he said. “Not every time,” he added cryptically. “Listen, any of you fellas know the way to Heaven?” the Saint asked, his pupils widening.

“I think it’s just like, up, isn’t it?” said Blaze.

“Oh, yeah. Up.” He laughed hysterically. “Duh! Earth to Gabe!” He laughed hysterically again. “Earth to Gabe,” he repeated softly, grinning stupidly as he zigzagged his way ever higher towards Heaven once again. 

Genealogists Baffled by Lack of Father to ODB’s Style



What started as an innocent remark by the rapper Method Man 21 years ago sparked more than two decades of research that ended up entirely redefining the field of genealogy as we know it, leaving most professional genealogists perplexed and probably suicidal.

Method Man is far better-known for his legendary blunt-rolling prowess than his cutting insights into genealogy, but one casual claim he made on Wu-Tang’s 1993 classic Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) has proven itself prophetic in that very field. One of the most visible members of the legendary rap group spoke briefly on the track “Can It Be All So Simple” about the etymology of each of Wu Tang’s major members, back when the Wu-Tang Clan was not the size of a small African nation. Method Man’s rambling narration detailing his fellow rappers and their backgrounds led to brief and discursive ruminations on genealogy and, inevitably, the 1980’s animated TV series Voltron: Defender of the Universe.


The pivotal assertion occurred just before his squirrel-like attention span caused him to plunge headfirst into a Voltron analogy:

After explaining with simple eloquence that his own name derives from the fact that his demeanor is one of the “roll that shit, light that shit – smoke it!” variety, Method Man explains fellow Clan member Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s name. Simply and plainly, asserts Meth, ODB is ODB “cuz they ain’t no father to his style.”

Genealogists immediately mocked the claim as ludicrous and impossible. Indeed, most genealogists who reviewed the album considered the offhanded comment an egregious and unforgivable mistake. They vowed to disprove the absurdity within a matter of days, declaring it “an impossibility,” and “a grave insult to pioneers like Gregor Mendel, who proved that all traits are hereditary.” They hypothesized emphatically that “there simply must be a father to ODB’s style. It cannot have sprung forth from nothingness all of its own.”

Those same self-assured voices then went silent for the last 21 years. Today, some of the harshest critics from two decades ago emerged with their tails between their legs and a quarter of their lives wasted in a vain dispute that society forgot about almost instantly. Genealogist Albert Mundelbrot spoke for the group in a solemn statement to media outlets today, saying: “We did not think it was possible, any more than it is possible for a muffin to father an ostrich, that a rapper should have no father to his style of rapping.”

As dense tears welled up in his eyes, he looked down and embraced the solace of his prepared statement, soldiering on. “After tireless efforts, we are forced to conclude that Method Man’s original claim is indeed true: we have consulted hundreds of thousands of documents and songs relating to Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s style, interviewed childhood friends, listened to his favorite music, and so on. The results are overwhelming and conclusive. Even after rigorously examining his family tree and expensing more money than we would care to admit on Ancestry.com research, no paternal figure to ODB’s style surfaced, and we are forced to concede that the said style was fatherless.”

When RapNewz reporter Blaze Treeze told Method Man in person that he had been right all along about ODB’s style, the hip-hop icon nodded apathetically. “Word? Ayyo, kid pass that blunt already, god damn!”


New Snowden Leak Reveals CIA Plot to Kill Bieber; Americans Overjoyed



Edward Snowden, the former NSA contractor who went rogue and fled to Russia last year after leaking hella classified shit to the press, released another round of mostly dense, boring, and unreadable data on Sunday. While the vast majority of the documents further detail the “Spygate” scandal and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the federal government is still unconstitutionally monitoring the activity of millions of Americans, we here at RapNewz are focused on the juicier parts of the leak.

Namely, the parts that talk about the CIA’s plans to murder pop icon and 20-year-old Canadian douchebag Justin Bieber.

In a document jovially titled “Who We Gon’ Kill This Year?” and dated just two months ago, the results of an internal poll reveal the CIA’s top hit men are overwhelmingly bloodthirsty for Bieber, the egg-throwing piece of human garbage who’s rumored to believe he can seamlessly transition from pop-singer to rapper. RapNewz reached out to Snowden via his Google+ page and asked for the document itself, which he readily provided us because we are a news outlet of international renown.

Below are the results of 2014’s “Who We Gon’ Kill This Year?” annual CIA hitman poll, as well as the CIA’s own short synopsis at the end:


1000 Colonial Farm Rd.

McLean, VA 22101



  1. 1.      Justin Bieber – 68%
  2. 2.      Kanye West – 17%
  3. 3.      Vladimir Putin – 8%
  4. 4.      Tyler Perry – 4%
  5. 5.      Jay Leno – 2%

**OTHERS RECEIVING VOTES: Matt Damon, Rosie O’Donnell, Lee Daniels, Kim Jong-un, Joseph Kony, Bruce Jenner

POLL OUTCOME AND SUMMARY: Alright, guys. This is the year you’ve all been waiting for. The Biebmeister’s now claimed the top spot for three years running, and he’s finally 20. You know our mantra on teens: don’t kill ‘em unless they’re brown or overseas! Anyways, make it look like some sort of accident, I guess. Happy hunting!

The Guardian initially broke the story this morning, though the Bieber news didn’t make the front page, which was devoted entirely to that boring Spygate shit. Talk about beating a dead horse, right? Anyhow, once the public caught wind of the hitman poll, Americans were ecstatic.

87% of Americans said they would back an assassination of Bieber, and that their own quality of life would be improved as a result of his removal. 85% said that, if given notice, they would watch the operation on live television and take the day off from work.

Meanwhile, public support for the CIA spiked to its highest level ever, hitting 9% by mid-afternoon.

“Finally, our tax dollars being put to real work,” said blue-collar American Tex Andrews, who seemed just a little too excited about the news. He licked his lips, and something wild flared in his eyes as he gazed off into the distance. “I wonder how they’ll do it…”

Nike on “Anaconda” Cover: Nicki Minaj, Ass Sold Separately


The cover art (shown above) for Nicki Minaj’s new single, “Anaconda,” has managed to do quite a lot since it first hit the internet several days ago: it almost got a Nike executive fired, it nearly broke Twitter, and it probably did break that poor pink G-string, which was almost certainly stretched far beyond its physical limits.

Nike PR Managing Director Toby Philbin urgently reached out to RapNewz today after receiving a “veritable flood” of emails and phone calls about the “Anaconda” promotional photo. The volume “nearly crashed our servers, and we had to pick up 20 temps yesterday just to handle all the calls.” Philbin said he hoped RapNewz could help to educate the public, which he said would make his job easier and allow him to “fire the worthless temps as soon as possible.”

Sure, we said. We’ll do anything to help mega-corporations boost their obscene profits at the expense of hardworking, everyday people just trying to put food on the table. That’s what the hip-hop culture is all about, isn’t it? How can we help?

“Tell your readers that Nicki Minaj, her G-string, top, and – most of all – her voluptuous ass, ARE NOT INCLUDED with the pair of ‘Game Royal’ Air Jordan 6 Retros she rocks so very provocatively. Please tell your readers…we’ve gotten that question over 200,000 times in the last 24 hours alone.”

We agreed to spread the word, but we had to ask: Do the kicks at least come with a poster of dat ass? Nicki, after all, is 31, and that booty is pretty much in its goddamn prime. It’d be a shame not to mass-produce the already-iconic image for history. For the sake of our children. And our children’s children. And any horny aliens that could invade us down the line. We could offer the poster as a symbol of peace…it could save humanity.

Philbin exhaled deeply, and started whispering what sounded like a Buddhist mantra beneath his breath. His face turned red, beads of sweat began forming on his temple, and we’re pretty sure we saw one of his hairs literally turn grey before our eyes.

When he spoke again he spoke calmly and precisely. “Nike sells shoes. Nicki Minaj bought a pair of Nike’s shoes and squatted down like she was taking a dump in a forest and took a picture of her ass. Nike has no affiliation with that act, and no product we sell comes with either Nicki Minaj, her ass, or any of her memorabilia. Is that entirely clear?”

We confirmed that it was indeed entirely clear, and we reluctantly removed 10 pairs of ‘Game Royal’ Air Jordan 6 Retro editions from our shopping cart.

Scientists: Drake is Softest Material in Known Universe



Aubrey Drake Graham, 27, better known by his stage name “Drake,” is more than just a record-setting hip-hop artist with a penchant for catchy hooks. He is also composed entirely of the softest material in the known universe, according to scientists at the University of Toronto-Scarborough.

“It’s absolutely incredible,” said Dr. Edward Finkelstein, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Aubrey just came in here for a routine cleansing of his delicate vagina, when he began to weep a little harder than usual.”

“We went ahead and ran some tests on the little guy, and it turns out he’s in a league of his own. Aubrey is made of a previously unknown element that is literally softer than anything you can imagine: a baby’s bottom, a fluffy pillow, Play-Doh, ice cream – you name it, Drake’s softer! I’ll put it this way: as far as hardness goes, Aubrey is to a normal human being what Jell-O is to a diamond.” It was a damning comparison. Jell-O is much, much softer than a diamond.

RapNewz was stunned to hear the news, but being the exclusive source on this remarkable discovery, we felt a responsibility to dig deeper: How is Drake able to function if he is so utterly fragile that simply sleeping on a pillow poses an existential threat?

“We wondered the same thing,” said Dr. Finkelstein. “At first we were shocked he made it past infancy…we thought of Drake as a water balloon in an outside world composed entirely of Punji sticks and acupuncture needles: destined to pop eventually. Only later did we discover that Aubrey produces abnormally high amounts of estrogen, which in turn chemically reacts with his body to make him slightly more firm. We don’t quite understand it, but it explains why he’s so fucking emotional, it explains the incessant crying, and, you know, the whole vagina thing.”

Adds Dr. Finkelstein, “So when Aubrey says he ‘started from the bottom,’ we understand what he means. He’s talking about Rockwell’s hardness scale.” RapNewz asked where he was on the hardness scale today. “Now he’s here,” said the professor, pointing to the bottom. “Same place he began.”

Soulja Boy Loses Freestyle Battle To A Carrot

23-year-old rapper DeAndre Cortez Way, better known by his stage name Soulja Boy, suffered a devastating blow to his already-questionable reputation this week, after a video surfaced appearing to show the rapper decisively losing a freestyle battle to a carrot.

The embarrassing footage, which first appeared on Worldstarhiphop.com on Tuesday, appears to show Soulja Boy challenging a carrot to a rap battle and then losing miserably and conclusively. In the video, an inebriated Soulja Boy – who hasn’t put out a song anyone gives a shit about since 2008 – is shown approaching the carrot in a dimly-lit alleyway. It is unclear why the confrontation was filmed or what the rapper hoped to gain from the encounter.

Several other carrots, along with two beets and one potato, surround the Vitamin A-rich vegetable that Soulja Boy singled out. To any normal human being, the curious assemblage of discarded food looked like a spot where someone had accidentally spilled some groceries. To Soulja Boy – who famously and tragically lost the ability to turn his swag back on in 2012 – it looked like a prime opportunity to showcase his nonexistent skill set.

When only several feet separate the fallen food items and the talentless rapper, Soulja Boy makes the first move. Facing his orange nemesis, Soulja Boy yells: “Bet you won’t!” an exceptionally vague phrase apparently meant as a challenge. The posse of veggies remains motionless and silent – an ancient pastime of lifeless objects. The pacifism only serves to enrage the rapper. “Aww shit, it’s on naoh!” Soulja Boy yells, stomping towards the group of inanimate edibles as if he were King Kong trying to register his force on the Richter scale. “Get that nigga, son!” yells an unidentified male in the rapper’s posse. “I think homeboy carrot wants a battle!” another off-camera voice exclaims. Improvised beatboxing begins. “Aight,” the rapper begins, “it’s a battle.”

The freestyle that follows seems to go south before it begins. The first bars of Soulja Boy’s rap are as follows:

Carrots tryna flex but they got no muscle/

Stick one carrot in my ass, better make that shit a double/

The beatboxing suddenly stops. The veil is slowly being lifted for Soulja Boy’s crew, who begins to suspect that their leader isn’t entirely well. “What?” says one voice behind the camera. Soulja Boy immediately realizes his unforced error, and shoots a panicked look back at the camera. “Holdup. I mean,”

Carrots got swagga out the ass…but I don’t/

I think it’s cuz I stick em in my ass – wait, no! wait no!

By the end of Soulja Boy’s last line the camera view has become a chaotic, upside-down whirlwind of indecipherable alleyway imagery. Heavy breathing and the sound of people running away from the scene is all we hear as Soulja Boy’s posse apparently abandons him with extreme haste.

While two beets and one potato were found at the scene the proximate day, no carrots were ever recovered. 

Obama’s “Turn Down For Physics” Education Campaign A Massive Failure

Whether you agree with his politics or not, few people doubt that Barack Obama is a goal-setter: a man of actions, will, and determination. I mean, come on, he’s the first black president, after all! When he wants something done, he figures out how to do it and he does it. Ask Osama bin Laden. A two-time Ivy-League graduate blessed with debate skills that are legally considered deadly weapons, Obama’s no dummy, either.

And yet, on Tuesday, the President did something so wholeheartedly moronic we here at RapNewz are formally endorsing his impeachment. Mr. Obama, in an effort to get America’s youth jazzed up about science, held a rally at Woodrow Wilson High School in Washington, D.C., called “Turn Down For Physics.”

That’s right. It was called “Turn Down For Physics.”

Obama, under the pitiful delusion that the title was clever and hip merely because it referenced the DJ Snake/Lil Jon club banger “Turn Down For What,” was trying to jump-start a revolution in American academics that re-emphasized science and math as the exciting, job-creating fields of the future. But the second-term President – who can write a bill and finish The New York Times crossword before he’s done with breakfast – failed to understand the fundamental connotation of “turning down.” The fundamental connotation of “turning down,” Mr. President, is, quite simply, “not something that is cool to do,” for future reference. I mean, fuck. It’s pretty simple.

Obama also arrogantly assumed that the Woodrow Wilson High School students would want to attend the rally regardless of subject matter, simply to glimpse what a big-swinging-dick he was. Thus, out of hubris, he allowed attendance at the “Turn Down For Physics” rally on Tuesday to be voluntary. These kids live in D.C., Mr. President. They see you all the fucking time. I mean, just last week you stopped by the school to promote some lame-ass hip-hop artist called “Mathta P,” who rapped about algebra and the real-world applications of geometry for two full hours. Have you suffered a complete mental breakdown?

Mental breakdown or not, the dumb-as-fuck event name coupled with Mr. Obama’s desperate attempts to be cool and the voluntary attendance policy combined to create one of the saddest moments in Obama’s political career, and perhaps life. During second period on Tuesday, the most powerful man in the world stood awkwardly on a poorly crafted podium at the 50-yard line of a high school football field, speaking to empty bleachers about the mysteries of black holes and the wonderful world of dark matter. A single member of the media, RapNewz correspondent Blaze Treeze, managed to make it to the event, but only after we threatened to fire him if he refused to go. There he witnessed the dejected President walk off the stage after a rambling 10-minute speech in which he promised to tell those in the nonexistent audience what they would turn down for.  

“Is it physics?” asked Blaze, as Mr. Obama sauntered down a creaky set of wooden stairs made in a 10th grade arts and crafts class just hours before.

The President glared at our correspondent is if he had just insulted the chief of his Kenyan tribe. “Fuck you,” he said, and then stormed off into his helicopter.

Next time you want to talk about physics, Mr. President, have it look more like this. 

Poll: Chris Brown Slightly Less Popular Than Hitler



A poll of 100 esteemed world historians revealed that pop sensation, woman-beater, and full-time asshole Chris Brown, as it stands today, is a slightly less popular historical figure than Adolph Hitler. The last time Hitler – the maniacal dictator of Nazi Germany, responsible for the deaths of more than 11 million Jews and other oppressed minorities – wasn’t the most unpopular man in all of history was in 1998, when Carrot Top claimed the top spot.

RapNewz spoke to one of the historians surveyed in the poll, who wished to remain anonymous. “Listen, Chris Brown’s a very talented guy, don’t get me wrong: He can sing, he can dance, and he can beat the fuck out of a woman with the best of ‘em. As a matter of fact, he’s my neighbor, and I must’ve seen him beat the shit out of a couple dozen women in the last week alone. He’s got a helluva backhand…it’s remarkable how fucking stupid and terrible he is, but hey, that’s Chris. He’s just the worst. ”

We here at RapNewz wholeheartedly agree that Chris Brown is the scum of the earth. We can’t deny that the world would be a better place if he died of Ebola tomorrow and rotted in Hell with a dick in his mouth for all eternity…but wasn’t Hitler worse?

“Oh, yes, far worse,” the historian continued. “Any man who can summon such hate as to attempt genocide while trying to take over the world has gotta be one of the worst humans beings to ever grace the planet.”

“But remember, it came down to the issue of popularity: Who would you rather have over for barbeque and a beer? We’re historians, for Christ’s sake! We’d love to have Hitler over to a cookout and pick his mentally ill brain. As for Chris Brown, we know everything there is to know about him: he’s a prodigal dancer, singer, and pop icon whose mother should have had an abortion or tossed him in a trash compactor. No thanks, Chris, I think we’ll ring up Hitler for BBQ and beers if given the choice.”