Pimp is a memoir by Iceberg Slim, a black man who became a pimp in the United States during the 1930’s. He shares his background of what led up to his pimp life along with stories that took place during his career. While the book contains many useful tips on how to handle women, I wouldn’t call it a pimp manual. Instead, it shines a light on how degenerate modern relationships have become.
The pimp game is essentially seeking out girls with low self-worth who crave an exciting lifestyle. These two factors cause them to fall quickly for a pimp with flashy aesthetics, smooth style, and tight verbal game. After a pimp’s successful seduction, he pushes his new whore onto the streets to earn money for him. Most girls that pimps pursue already worked as a prostitute or decided beforehand to become a prostitute, for reasons that someone raised in a traditional household wouldn’t be able to understand. There is actually very little “turning out” a girl (making a girl go from normal Jane to a streetwalker).
Modern game is a light version of the pimp game, and shares many strategies with what pimps of old used to do. If you read this book, you’ll have many moments where you think, “Hey, I do that!” Women now voluntarily seek out and prefer the behavior of men who share qualities possessed by old-time pimps.
As I walked away I bombed her. I said, “Bitch, I’m splitting when I come out of that crapper. I know your pussy is jumping for me. I know you want me for your man. Some lucky bitch is going to steal me from you. You better toss that bullshit out of your mind . Get straight Bitch, and tell me like it is on my way out. You had your chance. After tonight you don’t have any.”
Most of the slang in the book is outdated so you’ll have to consult with the glossary often.
What had the pimps in the joint said: “You gotta back up from them fabulous pussys. You gotta make like you don’t have a swipe [penis]. You gotta keep your mind on the scratch [money].”
I kicked her rear end until my leg cramped. Through it all she just moaned and sobbed. I was soaked in sweat. Panting, I lay on the bear-skin beside her. I thrust my mouth against her ear. In an icy whisper I said, “Bitch, do I have to kill you to make you my whore? Get up and give me that scratch.”
The pimp’s in the joint had said, “There ain’t nothing more important than what makes a new bitch tick and why. You gotta scrape her brain. Find out whether the first joker who layed her was her father or who. Make her tell you her life story. “If she can remember back in her mammy’s ass, good! Fit all the pieces together. Maybe then you’ll know if she’s a two-day package or a two-year package. Don’t try to play ’em in the dark. Quiz ’em into a crack up if you have to . Wake ’em up from a dead sleep. Check the answers you got with what you get.”
Pimps made sure their whores weren’t talking to other pimps, and would threaten them with ass-kickings if they did. The modern game tactic of being confident of your value and never being jealous is sound in theory, but when there are 10,000 other high value men scratching at your girl’s door (i.e. smartphone), you’ll eventually lose her like how pimps eventually lose all the whores in their stable.
Self-control is one of the most important traits of a pimp. They deliberately control their mental state and horniness. They can’t let a whore show he’s weak for the pussy because then she knows that she can control him. Sound familiar?
“I told you once, do I have to tell you a thousand times? Greenass Nigger, to be a good pimp, you gotta be icy, cold like the inside of a dead-whore’s pussy. Now if you a bitch, a sissy, or something let me know. I’ll put you in drag and you can whore for me. Stay outta my face Nigger, until you freeze up and stop that sucker grinning.”
A good pimp is always really alone. You gotta always be a puzzle, a mystery to them. That’s how you hold a whore. Don’t get sour. Tell them something new and confusing every day. You can hold ’em as long as you can do it.
Pimping ain’t no sex game. It’s a skull [mind] game.
“A pimp is the loneliest bastard on Earth. He’s gotta know his whores. He can’t let them know him. He’s gotta be God all the way.”
Lines that worked back then would probably be called corny today, but the technique behind them is still applicable.
She said, “I don’t drink and besides I don’t know you.”
I said , “You met me in your first hot dream, remember? You know that pretty joker in your little girl dreams that always faded when you woke up wet between the legs. You waited and wished. “You lucky bitch, I’ve stepped out of your dreams. I’m alive and real across the hall from you. Get over here, I’m gonna turn you on .
A pimp lays down ironclad rules and his whore must follow them, or else face the consequences.
“Now that young bitch you got is gone lazy. She’s stuffing on you. That bitch ain’t sick. I ain’t never seen a bitch under twenty that could get sick. Your whore is bullshitting. A whore’s scratch ain’t never longer than a pimp’s cold game. You gotta have strict rules for a whore. She’s gotta respect you to hump her heart out in the street. One whore ain’t got but one pussy and one jib. You got to get what there is in her fast as you can. You gotta get sixteen hours a day outta her. There ain’t no guarantee you going to keep any bitch for long. The name of the pimp game is ‘Cop and Blow.’”
Pimps used social proof on their own whores.
Take that scratch and drive to one of the whore towns close around. Go to Western Union. Send that scratch back to yourself at your hotel. Use some broad’s name as the sender. “That lazy bitch you got will think she’s got competition. Watch the sparks fly from her ass. She’ll try to top that bitch that doesn’t exist.”
Some cities offered better whores than others. A pimp had to be open to re-locating.
Detroit was the promised land for pimps all right. The town was teeming with young fast whores. The local pimps were soft competition. I was walking , but I was sharp as a Harlem sissy. Anyway, these whores were a different breed than the ones back in the city. They were gullible, and a fellow didn’t have to play his heart out to cop them.
Take your whore out of her comfort zone.
Control is easier and tighter away from the familiar setting. A girl in strange surroundings depends more on her man. She needs his advice and guidance more. Girls copped in smaller towns have to be moved fast.
And here is an example of a false disqualification on a girl who eventually was added to his stable.
“My whores are humping sixteen hours a day in the street. They love it. I don’t figure you got the guts and heart for the street track. Chris, for the rest of my life I’ll be sad when I think of you. I’ll have a lump in my throat when I think of what might have been. Take this saw buck, baby, and the best of luck always. Goodbye, Chris. Please split before I get weak and let you be my whore.” I reached across her and opened the car door. My skull was hitting on all hundred-and-seventy-five cylinders. I was cinching her.
Since no whore will stay in your stable for long, you want to extract the most amount of money from her in the shortest amount of time. Today, guys extract the most amount of sex from a girl before she gets bored and moves on to the next guy.
“Slim, a pretty Nigger bitch and a white whore are just alike. They both will get in a stable to wreck it. They’ll leave the pimp on his ass with no whore. You gotta make ’em hump hard and fast. Stick ’em for long scratch quick. Slim, pimping ain’t no game of love. Prat ’em and keep your swipe outta ’em. Any sucker who believes a whore loves him shouldn’t a fell outta his mammy’s ass.”
One passage that caught my attention is a whore doing her pimp’s laundry. Did any of the last five girls you fuck do your laundry?
She got up and gathered up an armful of our soiled clothing. She went into the bathroom. I heard the water sloshing in the bowl. She was doing our laundry.
What the Western cultural elite has done with feminism and the sexual revolution is “liberate” women to pursue exciting men who use the same type of game black pimps used nearly 100 years ago. Take a look at Fifty Shades Of Grey, one of the best selling books of all time. It’s essentially a white man using pimp game to dominate and control a girl’s mind. The movie would easily hold true if you put Iceberg Slim into the character of Christian Grey after changing the dialogue to match his street slang.
In Iceberg Slim’s day, a normal woman with a stable family could not be turned out—only a girl who has already succumbed to vice would even allow him to approach her. But now we have an entire generation of women who are so broken that they race to an app like Tinder with the hope that a good looking pimp with smooth text game will turn them on for a fleeting sexual encounter. The moral defenses of women have been so destroyed by modern feminism that they mainly respond to men who use a form of game that pimps used not long ago, and this behavior is glorified in all mainstream television, books, and movies that are coming out of Hollywood and New York City.
Even worse, the whores in this book are more feminine and pleasing than what we have today. Yes, you would likely be happier dating a 1930’s ex-prostitute than an entitled “strong and independent” modern woman. There was only one incident in the book about a woman resorting to violence, which I can personally top with my stay in Montreal and other encounters in Washington DC where drunk women threatened to physically attack me. The amount of affection that whores gave to Iceberg Slim appears more than modern women are able to give today. Not only do we have to simulate pimp game to get laid, but we’re doing it on women who are of lower quality that actual prostitutes of old.
If you don’t believe me, here are some pictures of prostitutes before 1970. If they were placed in modern times, they’d easily be the top 10% among all women in terms of beauty, thinness, femininity, and class.
You know things are bad when a reformed prostitute from last century could be a better girlfriend than one you meet at a nightclub this weekend.
The downside of pimping is that you have to scheme every day and keep the pimp mask on. You can never trust a woman. You have to constantly keep your game tight. These problems are nearly identical with modern game.
Pimping also aged the author quickly:
In a pimp’s life, yesterday means nothing. It’s how you are doing today. A pimp’s fame is as fleeting as an icicle under a blow-torch. The young fine whores are wild to hump for a pimp in the chips. A pimp in bad shape can’t get the time of day from them.
Drugs and the pimp game had hardened away my baby face. My hair was thinning. I was turning twenty-eight but I looked forty.
At almost forty I was ancient as a pimp. I looked like a black, fat seal in my expensive threads. For the first time in many years I had rediscovered my appetite for good food. I was slowing down. I spent most of my time reading in bed. The end of my pimping career wasn’t far in the future.
Not surprisingly, the author goes into a life of sales afterwards, which uses many of the same skills as pimping. My only complaint of the book is that the author fancied himself to be a writer, so he goes overboard on the descriptions instead of telling the actual story.
While there was nothing in the book that was new to me from a technique standpoint, it was a vivid reminder of how broken gender relations in 2015 have become. We’ve essentially normalized pimp-whore relationships to become the defacto standard for non-married individuals. Men have to learn a variant of negro pimp game to get a girl sexually excited and women are encouraged to empower themselves by having casual sex with guys who turn them on for the short term.
Black pimping coincided with the fall of the black nuclear family, so we can safely assume that the introduction of “pimp mating” in white people won’t bode well for their societies.
Read More: “Pimp: The Story Of My Life” on Amazon