It's Friday night.

I'm riding down the Long Island Expressway to New York City in my girl's new '05 Trailblazer, channel-surfing her factory-installed XM satellite radio. I'm suddenly caught by the seductive sound of smooth-as-molasses shout-outs over orchestral strings and melodic percussion. My fingers stop.

My mesmerist speaks, "I'm gonna stop talking and let the beat get to walking." The voice extols the virtues of dig-in-the-crates classic R & B artists like Leroy Hutson and Erma Franklin, Aretha's sister, as he plays their tunes. And then the revelation: "This is Snoop Dogg, and welcome to Da Chuuch."

There I was, caught up in Snoop's ever-expanding web of alter egos, contradicting personalities and business ventures. This time it was his monthly radio show (with encores each week), on which he spins an eclectic mix of classic soul and contemporary hip-hop and R&B. And the way corporate America has embraced him, next time it could be who-knows-what.

From Hollywood to Madison Avenue, Snoop, aka Calvin Broadus, has reincarnated himself from a self-described gangster and purveyor of the pimp-and-ho lifestyle to rapper to movie star to million-dollar Main Street pitchman, appearing in ads for T-Mobile, AOL and Nokia, among others. Then there are the movies, the MTV comedy show, a shoe line with Pony, and future plans for a Snoop DeGrill (yes, barbeque), restaurants and an animated series.

Snoop, Inc., is a booming business, and he's not alone. A growing band of rappers, including Lil Jon and Nelly, hang their careers on lyrics that often demean women and videos that border on pornography--with half-naked sisters who gyrate, pop it and generally drop it like it's hot. The rappers then parlay that success into business ventures, marketing opportunities and lucrative endorsements. Meanwhile, record-label executives--mostly middle-aged White men desperate for a surefire way to pimp the artists in a struggling market--sell us hard, jiggling backsides and all, to boost the frighteningly popular testosterone-charged playa rep that loyal fans--mostly young White men--seem to want. Execs like Jimmy Iovine, chairman of Interscope Records; Steve Gottlieb, president and founder of TVT Records; and Lyor Cohen, chairman and CEO of Warner U.S. Recorded Music Group, bank million-dollar salaries and multimillion-dollar bonuses, while artists take home their exponentially smaller cuts, and most video vixens go home with, at best, $1,000. Together they are fashioning a legacy that does immeasurable damage to the global perception of Black women because these images are broadcast worldwide. Welcome to the new hustle. At its crux are Black women, legs open, hips shaking.

The driving force behind the new hustle is the confluence of the business of hip-hop and corporate America's quest for the hottest and hardest-to-reach consumer demographics--men and teens. More than half of all rap is purchased by males, and more than half of rap's buyers are teens and college-age, according to Isaac Josephson, who heads up music research for NPD Group. That compares with only 25 percent of rock and only 17 percent of country music being purchased by that same young, hot market. In fact, ESSENCE research shows, young, affluent White men buy more rap music than their female counterparts and their Black male and female counterparts combined. So in the world of how-do-we-get-to-that-advertising promised land--18-to-24-year-old men and teens--Snoop is the messianic messenger du jour, leading advertisers, retailers and moviemakers to salvation: urban trendsetters and the suburban White teens who follow them. Snoop's got that group on lockdown, and he, and the advertisers, know it.

In this climate, it's not hard to see why a company would go with somebody like Snoop. The only other proven way for advertisers to reach men is the Super Bowl or Monday Night Football. Teens, who have the most disposable income in this country, have overwhelmingly made rap their music of choice. So who cares if too many rap lyrics are about bitches and hos? On the contrary, many brand names seem to be saying, "The next time you whip out dog chains for women, can you emblazon the chains with my company logo?"

"Some companies don't care what an artist has said to become so popular. It's just can he say it holding the company's phone, wearing its clothes, or driving its car?" says Jackie Rhinehart, former senior vice-president of marketing for Universal/Motown Records. "It's all about the money."

In effect, these companies are giving the corporate go-ahead to the denigration of Black women. And multiplatinum rap artists such as Snoop have the ultimate bargaining chip--millions of young fans. The top-ten-selling rap artists make up 29 percent of rap sales, while in rock music the top ten sellers account for only 11 percent of rock sales, according to NPD Group. "Rap is unlike rock in that a few high-profile artists dominate the industry," says Josephson. For an advertiser, it's a cost-saving no-brainer--pay one chart-topping rap artist to reach millions of young people or pay five or six rock artists to reach the same number of people. Says Rhinehart: "If an artist can reach 20 million people and command their attention, a company is not going to tell him to change the message or style that got him there in the first place."

Granted, beautiful women have been used for years to sell everything from sports cars to aftershave, and now that society's mores have hit new lows, sex is also used to hawk toothpaste and breakfast cereal. We know sex has sold music for generations. But hip-hop has fallen out of balance. Somewhere along the way, it took Black women from eye candy to cheap tricks. Want a hit record? Sure, you need a catchy beat. But what you really want to do is throw a few "bitches" and "hos" in your lyrics, brag about their performing sex acts, and make a few obligatory references to ways to keep a woman in check. It certainly worked for Snoop. His latest album, R&G (Rhythm & Gangsta): The Masterpiece, features the solipsistic, chart-topping hit "Drop It Like It's Hot" along with tracks like "Can U Control Yo Hoe": Can you control yo hoe? ... / Listen you've got to put that bitch in her place, even if it's slapping her in her face ... / This is what you made me doll really didn't want to put hands on you. And it wasn't so long ago that Snoop paraded at the MTV Music Awards with scantily clad women on dog leashes.

It's hard to hate on the get-rich part of this game. That rappers are becoming more astute businessmen, branching out into multiple industries, is a good thing. "Rap music was making a lot of money for the corporate world, and artists realized that they'd rather pimp themselves than be pimped," explains Bryan Leach, vice-president of A&R (artists and repertoire) at TVT Records, Lil Jon's label. Okay. But why step on sisters in their rise to the top? Perhaps it's because they think we have no juice. "The Black woman has never been afforded the respect she deserves in the marketplace," says Carol Motley, Ph.D., a marketing professor at Howard University's School of Business.

I asked T-Mobile, a multibillion-dollar telecommunications company, quite simply, "Why Snoop?" This answer came from Jim Goodwin, vice-president of Integrated Marketing for T-Mobile USA: "We wanted an eclectic set of personalities that, when connected through the Sidekick II, made strange bedfellows and would evolve into fun dynamics to be enjoyed by the youth audience and all demographics." Hmmm. Where's the "fun" in people who promote pimping and gang violence and putting women on leashes? Well, at least he got the strange bedfellows part right: Perhaps he's seen Snoop's porn series, produced by Larry Flynt's Hustler Video, in which Snoop peacocks in outrageous outfits presiding over sexual festivities.

The message is clear. We already knew it was, "What you say about and do to Black women is inconsequential as long as you make money for the record company." But now it's also, "Our company rates a 'cool factor' for being associated with you."

"Everyone has bones in his closet," says Killick Datta, who, as owner of Pony, inked the sneaker deal with Snoop through his company, Global Brand Marketing. "But Snoop transcends hip-hop." And obviously corporate values too. (By the way, the first shipment of Snoop's Doggy Biscuitz shoe line sold out in most stores nationwide in three days.)