Gucci strikes again! The more this dude is around the more I like him. He's hilarious. So apparently Gucci Mane told a judge he's crazy so he wouldn't have to go back to jail. Peep TMZ break it down:
The 30-year-old rapper -- real name Radric Davis -- appeared in a Georgia courtroom yesterday after filing a "Special Plea of Mental Incompetency" ... in which he explained he was in no state to "intelligently participate in the probation revocation hearing."
Gucci is accused of violating his probation by reportedly getting in an altercation during a November traffic stop.
According to the document, the judge ordered Gucci into custody -- and immediately committed the rapper into a mental health treatment facility pending an evaluation of his mental condition.
We're told Gucci is currently at the treatment facility.
Now any nigga with an iced out Bart Simpson piece on his neck who names himself after a clothing line, raps about colors like a kindergartener and might be known to punch a bitch on stage from time to time might be considered crazy, but not for this. That nigga been to jail before, and he knows he doesn't want to go back. So why not take a vacay in the loony bin for a minute, eat cookies and rub a furry wall until somebody prescribes some meds and releases you to drop a record inspired by the event, like "Schizo-Swag." The beat changes every 30 seconds and the mood of the song swings wildly from extreme to ext...matter of fact let me stop writing down the blueprint before I get pissed off that somebody takes the idea and makes millions off it. But I digress.
This all begs the question to me, of how far would or should you go to avoid jail? Like not the drunk tank for the night or a quick trip to central booking, but a bid. Like general population. Like racial gangs, homemade weapons and butt rape. How would your friendly neighborhood Blog Killa handle it.
1) Would I pretend to be crazy like Gucci Mane? Hell yeah! I'm an actor, I'll do some shameless miscellaneous foul shit like drop a deuce in the courtroom just to prove it. Or pack my ass crack with peanut butter and then take a handful like the guy they talk about in Training Day, I don't give a shit. I'm 5'7" at best. Guys like me become girlfriends behind bars. And since nobody, free or incarcerated, wants to be skeeted on against their will, the other surefire way to make people think you're crazy is to start beating off in front of them. Just beat off in public from time to time, or maybe right there in the courtroom. Just make sure no kids are around when you do it, cuz nothing pulls the emergency brake on the pussy train faster than a sex offender tag. And that you will go to jail for, and you will be at the front of the line at the rape party, downward dog and not for yoga.
2) Would I flee the country? Hell yeah! And I'd go somewhere with no extradition, like a random ass African country where no one would care to look for me except my own African family. Or maybe Mexico would do the trick. I took enough Spanish in school. "But C4, how are you gonna get there?" Greyhound my nigga. I hate this bus line with every fiber of my being, but one thing I do know about them is that they have been providing fugitives with anonymous travel options for decades. The In fact, Greyhound is probably the #1 recommended means of interstate travel for felons. T.I. should be their spokesman since he lost all his other endorsements. Idiot.
America I have learned my lesson this time, and another inspirational song with an R&B singer is on the way to prove it.
Sidenote: One time in college me and Big Mike were trying to get back to Philly from NYC and we had to hop a 2:30am bus. I noticed in front of me a tall white man, 6'4", medium build, nothing special about him really, except that he was cut up and covered in blood. Like he had just finished killing somebody. I'm talking cut ear, gash in his face, blood all over his shirt. Of course New Yorkers are unimpressed, and I don't say anything cuz I'm right behind him and I don't want to be the next victim. Then the bastard was right in front of me on the bus ride too! Cut to 5am in Philly and the nigga asks where the hospital is. Really fam? Crossing state lines and THEN going to the hospital? You're a murderer.
3) Would I snitch on somebody? Good question. All depends on whether or not I had actual involvement. If I too am guilty and am only trying to save my own ass and throw my boy under the bus, then no, I couldn't do that, that's foul. But to simply report a crime when I am being wrongly accused? That ain't even snitching, that's fact correction. You can only be mad at that if you're a criminal, in which case, kick rocks.
But enough about me, Nappy Friends. What would you do?