All I Need in This Life of Sin Is My Talking Master P Doll Friend


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All I Need in This Life of Sin Is My Talking Master P Doll Friend

There is No Limit to what a Big Boy I am with my Master P doll.

Some days you wake up and it feels like the world has taken a shit in your face. And then other days you wake up, see that a guy's selling a vintage Master P doll on Facebook, and three hours later own a vintage Master P doll. According to science, this is the equivalent waking up and taking a shit in the world's face.

A talking Master P doll is not the sort of thing I would have ever assumed existed before I owned one, but on the other hand, knowing Master P, I'd never assume a talking Master P doll didn't exist. Though these days we think of DJ Khaled as the ultimate hip-hop self-promoter, he didn't have shit on Master P––born Percy Miller––back in the late 90s, whose iconic No Limit label spawned movies (I'm 'Bout It, I Got the Hook-Up), the No Limit Sports management agency, the No Limit Gear clothing company, the No Limit Communications prepaid cell phone service, the MP Realty real estate company, the No Limit Soldiers pro wrestling team, a comedy special starring Eddie Griffin, and amazingly, a 1-900 No Limit phone sex line.


And unlike Khaled, a big part of No Limit's popularity had to do with P's skills on the mic––from 1996 to 1999, he released three Platinum-selling solo records as well as two Platinum albums alongside his brothers C-Murder and Silkk the Shocker as TRU$, and appeared as a guest rapper on all but five on No Limit's 50 releases during that same period. To fully give you a sense of No Limit's popularity in the late 90s, consider this: In 1997, No Limit put out eight albums, five of which went Platinum and Gold. The next year, they put out 23––a whopping 12 of which went Platinum or Gold. (Another, Soulja Slim's classic Give It 2 'Em Raw, nearly went Gold.)

Like any good entrepreneur, P's still going––as I was researching this article I inadvertently discovered that Master P owns a stake in a trio of pay-by-the-month auto repair shops, two of which are located in Maine. And his knack for branding certainly hasn't gone anywhere. Two of his sons are named Hercy and Mercy, which should be a lesson to all expectant fathers out there that if you ever at a loss for what to name your kid, just give them your name and change the first letter.

Anyways, back to this doll: it's incredible. It's about a foot tall and looks like Master P. Apparently it originally came with Versace sunglasses and a teeny-tiny No Limit chain, but my doll's accessories seem to have been lost in the sands of time. He's wearing a camo suit because he's a No Limit soldier, and you can make him say "UHHHH!" if you squeeze him because he's Master P.

According to this MTV article from 1998 (who even knew MTV had a website in 1998?), the talking Master P doll was meant to be No Limit's entrée into the toy market. At the time, nobody knew what to make of it. "Down the road, I'm not sure the kids who are into [No Limit] now will want to reconnect with [the label through] toys the way KISS fans want to," said Brian Kellogg, a music collectible expert and certified hater who was extremely incorrect about the potential importance of a collectible Master P doll. Still, not every member of the music collectible cognoscenti were as bearish on a talking Master P doll as Brian Kellogg was. "I'm just an old white guy, but I think it sounds cool as hell," Jacques Vroom, a chill-ass old white guy, told MTV.

The MTV article says that No Limit Toys made 6,500 of these bad boys, meaning I officially own 0.015 percent of the company's total output. To celebrate this, I went over to my friend Nolan's house and we had oodles of fun posing Master P in all sorts of fun positions. Some random toy nerd is probably going to get mad at me for taking my talking Master P doll out of his box, but given the sheer diversity of Master P's hustle in the late 90s, I think we all know you should never put the Ice Cream Man in a box. I hope you enjoy these pictures; they were taken for you. Future Days is a weekly column by Drew Millard. If you agree or disagree with what he writes, feel free to text him at 828-675-8574.  Drew used to work at Noisey, but now he doesn't, so now he has this column. He lives in North Carolina with his dog and his talking Master P doll. Follow him on Twitter.