Behind the Music, Y’all

Dancer, model and aspiring musician Kevin Federline, a.k.a. Mr. Britney Spears. (Mark Davis/Getty Images)

Kevin Federline, for those lucky enough not to know, is a part-time model and former backup dancer for musicians including Justin Timberlake, Michael Jackson and Christina Milian. He married pop princess Britney Spears in September 2004; they have two children together, Sean Preston and Jayden James.

Federline is also an aspiring hip-hop star. His debut album, Playing with Fire, is available in stores now. These are its imagined — unauthorized — liner notes.

Intro
Whassup, y’all? This is K to the E to the I to — awww, snap! My bad. It’s been a wild morning. Wifey — Mrs. Kevin Federline, ha ha — says I bogarted the sheets last night (400 thread count, holla!), so she woke up early and flushed my stash! Britney missed a li'l sumpin’ somethin’ I hid in the do-rag hamper, though, so let’s just say I’m excited to be putting pen to paper right now.

This album is me. My life. My struggle. (PopoZao was only jokes! Seriously.) Peep these news clips I sampled for my intro track: “According to sources, Federline’s marriage to pop superstar Britney Spears has reached its last straw.” ... “Does the Fresno, California native really have what it takes to be a successful rapper?” ... “In other recent news, Federline has been criticized for being a poor father.”

That’s how I’m living. Haters on every channel. Well, f--- that noise. This is K-Fed, son. Real hip hop! Ya heard?

The World Is Mine
Brit-Brit said I should stick our duet up here, but I knew I had to come strong with the two spot. This album ain’t some soft Nick Lachey-type shit: my music is GANGSTA! You can tell by the way these vocals sound so different than my speaking voice, all rugged and raw, like I’m not.

Do I remind you of Young Jeezy? I bet I do.

America’s Most Hated
My ex, Shar, says lyrics like “This marijuana got me heavily sedated/I’m Kevin Federline, America’s most hated” will — quote — “Not help your skinny ass at divorce court, Kevin.” Whatever. Britney and I are hanging tough ’til death do us part. Same as Sid and Nancy.

Snap
Does this sound like a Neptunes track to you? Because it’s supposed to. I must have sent Pharrell 400 text messages asking to gimme a beat, but I guess he was too busy to type back. That’s aight. Once this album blows up, I’m sure Chad and him will come correct for my followup, Right Said Fed.

Lose Control
When I got writer’s blocked about this song (picking words that rhyme is WORK, y’all!), I bunkered down in our home theatre with my 8 Mile DVD playing on loop. A long, lost weekend later, I finished Lose Control: “I’ve never been a digger but I rock ’em nuggets/One earring cost more than your budget/And I ain’t here to brag, I’m just here to pop tags ...” Em, call me!

Dance with a Pimp (f. Ya Boy)
It’s HARD out here for a pimp, yaknowhaimssayin’? Sometimes when Sean Preston and the other one are screaming their heads off — Brit too, because she ran out of Red Bull again — I go down to the basement, throw on some Fat Boys (old school!) and just DANCE. That’s how players do.

Privilege (f. Bosko)
I wanted 50 Cent to guest on this joint, but Bosko is my boy, so you know I couldn’t play homie like that. He got tight for a minute when I said I could only pay him $50 for the verse — diapers are expensive, y’all — but we peaced it out. (OK, I promised to stop krumping when he comes over to watch football.)

Crazy (f. Britney Spears)
B-b-b-b-b-B-Unit! Everyone says this is Britney doing charity, blessing my album with some vocals so her fans will pick it up, but let’s face it — wifey hasn’t had a hit in a while now. When Playing with Fire goes multi-platinum, it’ll be me buying her a Ferrari. I know, CRAZY!!

A League of My Own
Miss Lynne, my moms-in-law, calls this track “Kevin’s Madonna Moment.” I don’t get what she means, but it’s all good. We’ve been BFF since I surprised her with that Cinnabon from the mall.

Playing with Fire
This is me dropping mad science, y’all. Check it: “You try to copy Kev, surprise you can’t trace him/Federline, pure Patron, you can’t chase him/Built like a souped-up engine, you can’t race ’im/And you can’t clone me, nobody, there’s no replacement ...” Boo-yah!

Caught Up
Dim the lights, y’all, ’cause I got real personal with this one: “Breakup to makeup is all we do/For the past five years, it’s been all ’bout you/I ain’t even been able to do my do/’Cause all day and night, my mind been on my boo ...”

Britney always says, “Kevin, we need to talk” when I pump this at the crib, but I’m not trying to hear that. We cool. I swear.

Kept on Talkin’
Did y’all see my sketch on WWE the other night? Getting body-slammed was a blast, but you know what was my favourite part? After the show, John Cena pulled me aside and said, “Yo, K-Fed, that track of yours, Kept on Talkin’? That’s hot, dude. Don’t tell nobody, but I listen to it on my iPod when I’m working out.” Ohhhh yeah.

Middle Finger (hidden track)
Elliott Wilson, this one’s for you and your clown writers at XXL. Mr. Big Shot Magazine Editor, calling me “a joke”?! I got two birds pointed right at you, chump. CHIRP, CHIRP!!!

Matthew McKinnon writes about the arts for CBC.ca.

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