A&M’s Exclusive Interview with the Rap Chipmunk

Disclaimer: Other than being really funny, obnoxiously good looking and hung like fucking wooly mammoths, there’s one other really obvious characteristic I’m sure you’ve noticed about Magglio and I: we’re really, really white. I mean, really, really, ridiculously white. Magglio is so white his nipples look like sunspots. I’m so white that when it snows I disappear like Chevy Chase in that one movie with Darryl Hannah where he disappeared. Magglio is so white that plain white t-shirts are considered an “accent color” for him. I’m so white that when people call me an albino, albinos get offended. A bowl of rice, 50 Cent's K-Swisses; open up Microsoft Word, see the color of that blank document? That’s how white we are.

With that said, maybe we aren’t the typical reporters (hey stop laughing, you fucks!) to break the lid on a huge, huge scandal in the rap game, but on the other hand, maybe we are, maybe we’re the types of people they’d never see coming (figuratively and literally). Maybe only someone of our stature and shade could have been granted the access that we received or been trusted the way we were with this huge, huge story. The truth behind this lie can only be found in the truth, and that’s exactly what we’re going to give you. The world’s longest preface will now come to an end; as soon as I finish this sentence; with the “.” after I type the final word of this rambling preface. Period.

Now, like most of you, we’ve noticed a very strange theme in the rap game. From Common to Kanye, from Snoop to Jay Z, from Da Pickled Peppa to Condamint, there’s been an odd development in the beats and backgrounds of some of the biggest rap songs out there: a weird chirping sound that’s kind of like an old lady on helium. If you want to hear a sample of this, listen to the Kanye song “A Good Life." What is that noise? Why did it seem to be in every song? Was it one beat being played over and over? Was this an inside joke being played on us by the rap community (see how white I am? Who else but a skinny white kid would call it a community?)?

Well, as it turns out, it was all of these, yet none of these. After sending a series of emails and leaving hundreds of voice mails at rapper headquarters (a mystical place white people only hear about, the home of the LBC and answers to white people questions like “why does Larry Johnson make a vagina with his hands after every touchdown?”) – we received the following, cryptic email:

If U keeps sniffin'
U keeps whiffin'
U want da reals
U gots 2 make deals
‘Cause I’m Da Munk
Cover yo bitch in spunk
Lift my tail, kiss my furry butt
I run dis game
And will do anythin for a nut
If U wanna know who
Meet me tonight at HQ

Tens of readers, how strange was this development? Being the intrepid reporters we are, we pushed harder, grew more daring and ultimately went farther than any white man has ever ventured inside the fortress.

Calling on all of the time we spent listening to Gin and Juice as fourteen year olds and everything we’ve learned about black culture from watching Randy Jackson on American Idol, we replied thusly:

Yo, dog, yo, your email confused us
Like a six grader reading Confucius
I want to player love and not player hate
But going to HQ makes me lactate
I put the Vanilla in Vanilla Ice
I’ve seen Alanis live thrice
I want to solve this mystery
But like walking, can you feel me, G?

Ten minutes went by, and we got this:

U ain’t comin in
U 2 white and 2 thin
Meet me at da oak in da back
I’ll give U da scoop
U bring me a sack

A sack? Hmmm…weed? Is this how information is transacted inside the fortress? I wanted to be sure.

Cool, munk, count me in 4 tonight
Just to check, you meant pot, right?

No sooner had I pressed send that I got this message back:

No, you skinny white clown
Not how I gets down
I’m talkin’ Planters or Emeralds
Dat’s my kinda cough
Make dat shit unsalted
Or I’ll bite yo muthafuckin’ face off

Peanuts? What kind of transaction was this? What kind of information was I buying here? You know the old saying, “be careful any time a black guy wants you to show up at midnight in the back of rapper headquarters with a bag of peanuts?” Well, this was the literally the epitome of that old saying.

But the whole time I was thinking about you, tens of readers, how would you pass the time between shopping at QVC.com and pretending to write an email to that jag off customer if I didn’t sack up and get a sack? So I did it. What I found was both harrowing, horrifying and several other long words that start with “h” and end with “ing.” The story is too long to give you every detail, but here’s a quick summary.

The chirping sound you hear in the back of almost every rap song, the high-pitched, repetitive twirp that sounds like a chipmunk, is actually a chipmunk. Yes, you read that right, a real, honest to God, talking, walking, gangsta rap chipmunk. Known in the game as “Da Munk” the rapping chipmunk is the result of a horrible experiment gone terribly wrong.

Around 5 years ago the presidents of the rapper headquarters, Jay Z, P Diddy, Russell Simmons, Dr. Dre and Timbaland, put their heads together and came up with a brilliant scheme for complete world domination. Based on the success of talking animal movies like Madagascar and Happy Feet, they decided to create a rap group comprised of talking zoo animals. This is not animated mind you, this is real. They hired the world’s most renowned talkalogist, Dr. Jade Ploddington, and gave her all the resources she needed to create this super group. Part “Making the Band” part “Island of Dr Moreau” – Dr. Ploddington built a machine she named “Da Gangsta Izer” that would change any normal zoo animal, to a bad ass, sticky icky loving, gangsta-rapping zoo animal.

The presidents of the headquarters had huge plans for this group, which they named Da Zoo. A reality show, an album, a world tour, even a theme park that was aimed at being the world’s first Gangsta Petting Zoo. They even had gangsta names picked out for each member: G. Raff, PlattaPuzz, Kare A Boo, KoMo Draggin and the one girl in the group, Aunty Lopes.

Dr. Ploddington was working day and night on Da Gangsta Izer and after two years of work, the machine was ready. The results were disastrous. G Raff, Aunty Lopes and KoMo were killed instantly. Kare A Boo was shrunk to the size of a thumbtack. PlattaPuzz survived the experiment but refused to rap, he just kept going on and on about nuclear physics and the inherent limitations of cross-functional material transformation, he was mercifully put down.

An epic disaster. The project was shut down, Dr. Ploddington was paid off and shipped away and the presidents swore to never speak about the project again. But then, one year later, one of the upcoming protégés at rapper headquarters, a young gangsta named Chippa Dip was wondering around the facility checking out the different buildings when he found his way down to the boarded up Da Zoo wing. A curious motherfucker, Chippa Dip, waded through the boards and entered the facility. Finding Da Gangsta Izer, Chippa walked inside to see what it did. Unbeknownst to him, at the same time Chippa flippa da switch, a chipmunk that had been living in the musty room ran into the machine with him. When the dust settled, the two had merged into one. Chippa the man was transported into this little chipmunk.

Trust me on this one, tens of readers, as shocked as you are at this revelation, the presidents we’re at least 745% more shocked. Not only had they lost their next superstar, they now had a rapping, gangsta-ass chipmunk running around who could expose their once devious plan at any minute. So they struck a deal. In exchange for total silence and a promise never to go to the press, the presidents offered free range over the forest in the back of the headquarters, an endless supply of peanuts and a steady stream of “chippy bitches” and a guarantee that he could sing background vocals on at least one song on every CD released between 2004-2010.

Chippa, now known as Da Munk, accepted immediately and has lived in the forest and on every CD ever since. So there you go, mystery solved.
Not as personally horrifying as breaking the news that Sean Alexander has a talking vagina but this story obviously has much larger, global implications.

Well, folks, another groundbreaking story from the A&M News Team. This one wasn’t pretty, but then again, journalism isn’t meant to be pretty, it’s meant to be real.

Apples and Moustaches, read by tens, loved by Shaun Alexander’s vagina, trusted by Da Munk.