It doesn’t take a guy a long time to figure out that Los Angeles is a city that despite its natural beauty, perfect climate and beautiful women is a city with a serious problem. I’m not talking about the smog, the traffic, the wannabe famous losers from all over the world crowding the valley, the fake tans, the botox, the bad tat’s or the fact that going to a Dodger game has become like being jumped into one of South Central’s deadliest gangs.

You visit any other major American city and you will notice one thing L.A. just doesn’t have. It’s called public transportation. Sure you can take your life in your hands and ride the Metro bus and shit, it will only take you two hours of reading the graffiti carved into your seat to get from the Westside to Downtown. Or how about the new trains that nobody ever rides that don’t start or end anywhere you want to be after dark.

Big friggin’ deal most dudes think – it’s better to drive your own car anyway and plus… “chicks dig sweet rides.” I hear it all the time – guys thinking that a car is the key to spreading the legs of that girl they don’t have enough game to bag on their own. Chumps with no self-confidence that have been reduced to modern day peacocks, using a car logo as a tail feather hoping to attract a mate.

Let me tell you all one thing. If a girl drops her panties because she likes your car she’s not going to be your girl for too long. Why? Because in L.A. someone is always going to have a better car than you. Someone that, like you, suffers from the disease I like to call, “my cock is small and my last resort is emptying my bank account to buy a ride I can’t afford.”

We all know who suffers from this terrible sickness. Like the guy who has a $750 a month car payment for his Land Rover who shares an apartment in Reseda with 3 other dudes and pays $525 a month for rent? Or how about the dude that buys a Honda Civic for twenty-two grand and then spends another thirty g’s on rims, fenders, nitrous and a muffler that makes his fifty thousand dollar car sound like a fifty thousand dollar piece of shit?  And don’t forget the 909, the meth heads with the crew cab trucks raised as high as physics will allow with the huge tires and the bad boy sticker on the back window? Any of these ring a bell?

There are many faces to this disease and before you yourself fall prey slow your roll, take a deep breath and save your damn money. You see, the key to bagging the hot babes, my friends, lies in one simple truth – “treat the princesses like bitches and treat the bitches like princesses” and heed the very valuable advice handed down from my close friend Ice Cube:

I tell a girl in a minute yo, I drive a bucket

And don’t think nuthin’ of it

She can ride or walk, either leave it or love it…