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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

Fat Joe Lost

It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that one of the reasons hip-hop stinks to high hell right now is because there’s a lot of bullshit that goes on behind the scenes. Corporate politics, company mergers, shitty budgets and an overall lack of fresh, creative talent are forcing TIs and rappers alike to take drastic measures just to stay afloat.

One of the taboos in music (next to grown men BuFu’ing their “adopted” protégés behind the scenes. Pause.) has always been the “ghost” process. While many up-and-comers see ghost producing and ghostwriting as a means of establishing themselves in an already congested arena, most fear that their original concepts will be ganked by their higher-profile counterparts, and without the proper financial abilities, they’ll be helpless to stop it. Where it’s not held in such a low regard in R&B (that’s primarily how today’s current stars got their start), it’s considerably worse in hip-hop, where ghosting is essentially a cardinal sin (not unlike grown men BuFu’ing their “adopted” protégés behind the scenes. Pause.). But let’s be honest: Hip-hop is known for people snatching other people’s shit and claiming it as their own without giving the proper credit. If it weren’t for Gilbert O’Sullivan suing the hell out of Biz Markie back in the day, rappers would still be pilfering shitbag samples without getting approval.

You kind of have to feel sorry for Fat Joe. No matter how hard he tries, he can never seem to make it. Starting off by carrying Diamond D’s records and hash as a member of the Diggin’ In The Crates crew, Joe was eventually able to afford his own maracas holders, the Terror Squad, which just so happened to have one of the gulliest lyricists ever, Big Punisher. Unfortunately Pun OD’d on pork rinds and most of the members bounced, forcing Joe to move down to Miami and get in bed with his Muslim DJ The Great Khali (pause) to make ends meet.

Now word has hit that Joey Crack doesn’t even write his own raps. I originally thought that he had robbed Pun’s estate for his rhyme book, but apparently that isn’t the case as it now looks like he just bullied some random-ass rapper from Virginia named Face Dirty into writing “Lean Back” and didn’t pay him. The sad thing about this is that I remember an old episode of MTV Cribs where he lived in a mansion with about four cars, and he got his rocks off by licking the bottom of an Air Force One shoe he’d never worn (which is quite possibly the most impotence-inducing visual I've ever seen. Extra pause.), which suggests he easily could have afforded to pay Face and continue on with his façade. But the fact that he tried to steal some unknown rapper’s rhymes is not only wrong on all levels, but proof that the rap game isn’t what it used to be anymore.

If he had the space in his coffin to do so, Pun would be turning in his grave.

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