He talks about the other ways Rastafarianism has changed him. “I used to answer hate with hate. Like if you hate me, I hate you more. But now I answer hate with love.” What about your attitude to women? Was there hate in the lyrics of early songs, the bitches and the hos? “Yeah, because I was making music for me, speaking from my perspective. I was taught that a bitch is a ho and a ho was a bitch, so my music represented that, until I got to the point where I wanted to show love and appreciation for the woman.”
He’s staring at the screen again. “She is fine. She got tush. You know when they got body? If you go to Taco Bell, right, order something to eat, and the bitch looks good in them slacks, imagine what she going to look like when you put her in a skirt.” I’m beginning to feel as if I’m in a Tarantino movie.
The more Snoop smokes [pot] and the more he focuses on the screen, the easier his words come. Blimey, I say, how many of these do you smoke a day? “Today is a bad day.” Does that mean lots? “That means I’m going low. Because I keep getting asked questions so I got to make sure I’m on point. On a bad day 5-10. On a good day 25-30.”
Is it true that he smokes with his older son, Corde, 18? “Yeah, he deserve it.” Isn’t he a good sportsman? “No. He’s a good smoker. His brother’s a good sportsman. He took on my smoke side, his brother took on my sport side.” He turns back to the TV. “Hey, that’s Sheila Frazier. Super Fly’s girl. Sheila Frazier! Show that bathtub scene!”
As he talks, I notice the semi-clad girls at the back of the room. “Snoop,” I say, “the ladies here don’t have many clothes on.”
You can’t make this up. Not even if you were Tom Wolfe.