After the multi-platinum sucess of the 'hip hop' ditty bearing the same name Master P, eschewing the conventions of the genre, decided to make the turn to the operatic arts. The opera, in fourteen (14) acts is a classic in it’s genre, though admittedly said genre is a small subset of the total set of operas of the 20th century.
We open in No limits studio, a converted chalet in Centre Parcs in which five or six hale looking young men sit playing ‘Mastermind’ (the board game). The music, swirling around a fixed set of nodes representing the possible states of play (color, position, time) builds to a demi-climax which is rudely interrupted by the rinnging of a telephone. The following conversation, regarded as cannonical from its inclusion in the 7” single version is repeated in full, although extended in duration by use of the dramatic pause to the cnclusion of the act over 7 minutes later:
- No Limit Studios, whassup?
- Who dis is? Who dis is?
- Nigga, this Rappin 4-Tay, who is this?
- Oh dis P
- P?! [said with disbelief]
- Yeah dis P!
- P?! (Yeah) Well if this P lemme hear ya say ungggggggggggh
- UngnGNGYAHAHgngnnghh [voice cracking]
- This ain't no motherfuckin P!
- Man, hang the phone up
Next we see the entry of Master P, dressed as a camped up action man. The boys are off to a fancy dress party tonight, and ‘P’ just can’t wait to get involved. He’s already bouncing around happily, and has a can of ‘Skol’ in his hand which he has obviously been drinking from. P makes sure that while he is ‘stepping on his cold’ there are no ladies around to note his actions. The act is ambiguos. Is ‘P’ a camp pierrot, clowing around before us, or a misconstrued figure of modern masculinity, unable to see the sgnifigance of his actions?
- Nigga, I'm the colonel of the motherfuckin tank
- Y'all after big thangs, we after big bank
- 3rd Ward hustlas, soldiers in combats
- Convicts and dealers, and killers with TRU tats
- Never gave a fuck bout no hoes on our riches
- And niggaz come short, I'm diggin ditches
- M.P. pullin stripes, commander-in-chief
- And fools run up wrong, nigga I'm knockin out some teeth
- I'm down here slangin, rollin with these hustlers
- Tryin to get rid of all you haters and you bustas
- Steppin on cold, break a niggaz nose
- In the projects niggaz anything goes
- Breakin fools off cause I'm a No Limit soldier
- At ease now salute, this pass me the doja
After P’s confused soliloquy one of the gentleman of the Chalet – Fiend – stnds up and beings the third act. Often referred to by scholars as ‘the unknown’, his act has defied any attempt at interpretation. Fiend, though dressed as a missionary, immediately tells the assembled crowd that he is disinterested by their mission and begins to apeclate as to the nature of light, revisiting the controversy between Newton and Hooke over the nature of light. Fiend brings out a prism and begins to aggrandise his achievements in the field of optics, comparing his analysis of green-spectrum dynamics to such sure at hand facts as the usefulness of staples like cornbread and cabbage. At this point a sub motif is introduced suggesting Heidegger’s tool-analysis; it repeats itself in other works by ‘P’, but occurs no longer in this work.
- Fiend exercisin this right, of exorcism bustin out the expedition
- Bullets choppin haters business to about the size of prisms our mission
- They heard we scary, No Limit mercenary
- No tellin how bad it get, because the worst'll vary
- I heard you make em worry, that this for the loot
- They intimidated by the rounds that the tank shoot
- Tank Dogs salute! Every robbery in store, cause they know
- everything Fiend know, mean mo' money mo'
- Little Fiend still want the greens, the cornbread and the cabbage
- In your hood, remindin you bitches of who the baddest
- Definitely the maddest, so the crime gon' stick em up
- My UNGGGGGGH went twice (ungh, ungh)
- And ended with nine, get em
Slikk the shocker comes into the opera and announces to the cast that he has freshly returned from the dissolution of the monestaries. After harsh questioning of he validity of his statement based on the known laws of time and space he begins a lengthy diatribe about entropy and proclaims himself ‘The Master of all Fates’. He analogises his position to that of a wealthy light-switch, a device which he – quite cogently – claims to have the previously incompossible qualities of being simeltanously in two opposed staes, while at the same time having the propert of having real bank behind him. His refusal to ennunciate the ‘g’ at the end of many wrods is blamed on his having had a nasty trip as a child. After a breif dream sequence in which he fights Hiemdallr in a boxing match for the chance to advance over Bifrost (sadly truncated before the climax of the contest) he speaks movingly of his transcndence of his harsh childhood and his rise to a middel management in the bookmaking chain ‘William Hill’. Finally, after being charmed by P’s enthusiam for the fancy dress party, he dons a ballerina’s tutu and begins to prance around the stage. All this suffices to do is to wake the sleeping elderly coupl in the adjacent challet:
- P gon' make ya say UNGGGGGGH, I'ma make you say OWWWWWWWW
- I'm not Eric B but guaranteed to Move this motherfuckin Crowd
- I stay on like light switches, money, cause I like riches
- Hittin nothin but tight bitches, call me, I might hit ya
- Nigga make em say nah-nah-nah, don't trip
- After I bust yo' shit, then after that say na-nah-nah-nah
- I hang with niggaz, I do my thang with niggaz (unggggh)
- They wanna know if I gangbang, cause I hang with a whole gang of niggaz
- So when, we connect bitch better respect this, I step quick
- Cause I got a, vicious right hand but ya know what? My left is quick!
- Silkk, you the type of nigga that promotes violence? You might be right
- cause I'll step in the club and say somethin
- to get that motherfucker start to, fightin!! (Bout it!!)
- Bad as vogues, I'm cold, extra see through
- ?P-G? never fuckin knockin niggaz cause I make em all see 3-D
- And P-D's the game that I spit, No Limit Soldiers got my back
- I run this motherfucker, TRU niggaz
- And I, betcha y'all niggaz ya say, "Bet!"
Rather than get angry with ‘the boys’, Mia X, the lady in her late 50’s currently staying next door chooses to regale them with stories of the greatest escapades of her youth. She begins by telling them the tale of one particularly notable water fight held on such a balmy summer’s day that the only constraint on the competitors was the heat.
- We capitalize and monopolize on everything we see keep pistols drawed
- and cocked, we got the industry locked, we can't be stopped, too hot
- Check the spots that we got, on Billboard
- This Tank can set up roadblocks, we fadin all you hoes
- Want some mo? Then let's go, stretch you out like elastic
- Zip that ass up in plastic, have ya folks pickin caskets
- We drastic, our tactics is homegrown in the ghetto
- So feel the wrath of this sista, it's like you fightin 10 niggaz
- Forget the baby boys, it's the biggest mamma Mia
- The Unlady Like diva, lyrical man eater, believe her
- Or see her, and get that ass embarrassed
- If you're a decision maker, guaranteed you'll get carried away
- So stay in yo' place, when ya hear mamma speakin
- Cannon spray, clear the way, when ya see The Tank creepin
The Colonel’s notes are unclear from this point on – they keep reiteratin’ and doubling their bets. There is one expression one can discern, but before we reveal it, we have to sing the praises of monkey nuts. They are a great nut; amongst nuts, such as the walnut, the brasil, the cashew, the Belgian, the hazelnut, the Monkey is a great. Hail monkey.
As a matter of respect and fortitudinous froth, we need to reveal our desire to please the rectitude and deliverance of our most loyal Gamekeeper. He keeps our game and he loves it to bits (with a high powered rifle).
The expression that stands out: "Go pipe yourself”