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URB x Lil Wayne's '08-'09 NBA Preview :: Weezy's lyrics provide the guide to the new season

By Brandon Perkins   Photography by Mayo

10/27/08 :: URB web

Lil Wayne’s manager told us this week that the rapper-atop-the-world likes sports more than music these days. His ESPN.com column racks up more hits and comments than Bill Simmons’ 20,000 word essays do. His athlete name drop game is nearly unmatched, as it’s not just limited to Kobe and Phelphs, but lesser tiered stars like tennis star Roger Federer (“there’s no competitor”) and Plaxico Burress (“red Giants jersey number 17”). With the NBA season starting this week, URB.com decided to wrap our preview around Weezy’s raps. He may disagree with our 13 predictions, but he’ll be wrong.

“I’m eatin’ like I got a tapeworm in my tummy”
How hungry can the Celtics still be? Last year, they piled another trophy onto Boston’s recent gluttony, beating the long-hated Lakers in the process. Paul Pierce proved himself as one of the organization’s greatest players, but this summer he admitted that the ring vaulted him among the league’s “elite players,” perhaps losing that chip on his shoulder in the process. Kevin Garnett proved himself a winner, but could easily settle into a complacent defensive stopper type role. Rajon Rondo occasionally proved himself to be a championship point guard, but the subsequent shine could easily blind him a bit. Doc Rivers proved himself (at least) competent, but was it really just a lucky streak built around player-coach-type veterans that’s bound to run out? Losing James Posey—the dude who always seemed to come up with the loose ball or the big shot in the most important moments—doesn’t help any either.
Bottom line: Despite all that and more improvements to the Eastern Conference, expect the C’s to be back in the Finals.

"Giddyup as the white stallion bucks/And kicks me in my nose until my face busts/Fuck."
Welcome to New York, Mike D’Antoni. The coach with three first names takes his run-and-gun offensive mindset to a team without the tools he left behind in Phoenix. The Knicks could have any number of Lil Wayne lyrics about bloated salaries and the lethargy of money (or sexual antics), but it’s not polite to talk about another man’s spending habits. D’Antoni will push that “seven seconds or less” mentality until Stephon’s Starburies spontaneously combust and Eddy Curry collapses into a fetal-positioned, heavy-breathing behemoth.
Bottom line: Chris Duhon is not Steve Nash…and if you believe that Knicks GM Donnie Walsh is an agent of change, than you’ll probably be voting for McCain next week.

“I don’t spit/I vomit/Got it?/One egg short of the omelet”
For the second consecutive year, the Rockets had an impressive off-season. And unlike the quieter moves of 2007 that yielded Luis Scola and Mike James, Houston snagged the always-controversial Ron Artest this summer. A defensive stopper, unconventional offensive force and instigating head case, Artest certainly provides help for Tracy McGrady and Yao Ming…but at what cost? The Rockets are a team of veterans and scrappy role players, so it’s unlikely that the wily forward will be a distraction, but Artest is anything but predictable. And his addition hardly makes Houston a lock for a ring, as T-Mac and Yao are notoriously brittle…and the latter with Olympic mileage on his wheels.
Bottom line: Artest is enough to get T-Mac out of the first round of the playoffs for the first time in his career, but not any further.

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