Reporter Lauren Bans opens the profile with Kreayshawn shit-talking fellow musical hate object Lana Del Rey: "What is this depressing shit? I'm going to slit my ankles," she says when she hears a Del Rey song.
But Kreayshawn's best shit is her literal shit. Three hours before a shitty stage performance, Kreayshawn kicks all male members of her entourage out of her hotel room so she perform her signature shitting method: The Prairie Dog.
As soon as the door shuts, she yells: "I have to POOP," like a proud potty-trained toddler. This has clearly been on her mind for some time-when I'd originally asked if I could hang out in the room while she got dressed, she'd responded, "Are you going to write about how I pooped, ate nachos, then pooped again? Men won't like that." Her girlfriends are instantly behind her in this effort, no pun intended. Lady Tragik encourages, "C'mon, girl. Poop thug life," and throws up the West Coast sign. Avian starts pumping her arm, in a sports-stadium chant: "Number two! Number two! Number two!" Kreay pumps her arm too, like an athlete encouraging the cheers. Then Avian puts on a mock-serious tone: "You prairie doggin' '?"
Kreayshawn cracks up. I ask, "What's 'prairie doggin'?" Just trying to be a good reporter. She stops before the door to the bathroom: "You know how a prairie dog kind of pops his head out and then pops it back in?" She bends her spindly arms up like prairie-dog paws and demonstrates with her head bobbing up and down. "That's what my shit is doing." The bathroom door slides only halfway shut.