Listening to T. Pain’s “Can’t Believe It” last night (hey, thanks Pandora!), I was struck by what appeared to be his money-is-no-object determination to get it on. So today, I broke it down. It turns out that some of the things that T. Pain mentions are much more affordable than he makes them sound. I’m not saying T. Pain isn’t serious about you, but if he promises certain things, I think it’s a good idea to have a closer look.
I can put you in a log cabin, somewhere in Aspen
(Log cabin: $3,000/night in the low season. This is probably more than T. Pain will need, but the master bedroom has a Jacuzzi, a fireplace, and a door to a private outdoor hot tub. Which, I think, is how T. Pain would like you to think he rolls.)
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Put you in a mansion, somewhere in Wisconsin
(Forget that “mansion” and “Wisconsin” don’t rhyme, not even if you affect a flat Midwestern accent like T. Pain. The somewhere really matters. You can get a truly legit mansion (7Bd, 6Ba, spiral staircases, home gym, 4-car garage) in Green Bay for less than $1m. If T. Pain is buying, I’d go with this $2.9M crib in Milwaukee. It’s more expensive, but I think the whole point of this song is that T. Pain thinks you’re worth it.)
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I put you on the front page of King magazine
(Let’s ignore the fact that King Magazine folded last spring, that typically, magazine people would refer to the front page as the “cover,” and that even the Illest Men’s Magazine Ever will not sell its cover to the highest bidder. Probably. So, two options: 1. a full-page ad in King used to run an estimated $16,500; 2. Or, T. Pain could just buy King Magazine. How much would that have cost? Well, Andrew Fox just made a $40 million bid for Maxim, which is like King for white fratboys, circ. 2.5 million. King’s circulation before it closed was about 173,500, so figure $2.8 million? Depending on which one T. Pain picked, you could have a pretty good idea how much he likes you.)
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I could put you in the condo, all the way up in Toronto
(This is not that good an offer. A condo? In Toronto? Even if it’s one of these 4,200 square-footers ($6.9M, Canadian), you will get very lonely, because T. Pain is from Florida, where it is warm, and it gets very cold in Toronto. This is not a present that says “I love you.” This is a present that says “I don’t want to see you very often.”
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Baby put you in the furcoat, riding in the Murciélago
(Is this a good present? The Lamborghini Murcielago goes like a bat out of hell, and a fur coat, like the right pair of blue jeans, will make your ass look phenomenal. But T. Pain isn’t buying the car for you, he’s just saying you can ride in it. So he’s getting one of the world’s hottest sports car, and you’re getting what? A fur coat? Please.)
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I put you in the beach house right on the edge of Costa Rica
(Costa Rica beach house rental: $1,000/night.)
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Bonus: Lil Wayne promises to take you to the Cayman Islands, where he explains that you will be having sex in front of other people on the beach. As far as I can tell, the only place you can really do that without getting arrested is at Hedonism, which is in Jamaica. But if LW and your hearts are set on Cayman, figure a couple hundred for bail.
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A note on the methodology: It’s pretty sloppy. A lot of google searching, basically. Also, I assumed that in Aspen and Costa Rica, which have vibrant tourist communities, T. Pain would be renting, while in Wisconsin and Toronto, he would be buying. That might be an error and undoubtably skews the math. Ultimately, I think it comes down to your personal connection with T. Pain, the love, trust and respect that you share for each other, and the kind of future you can imagine. Whatever you choose, wanting your name on the title does not make you a prostitute, not even a little bit.
