• » Name: Meka Soul
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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

Somebody’s Gotta Defend It

You know, for all the talk about hip-hop dying in the sense that everybody would either run around looking like the rap version of the Ambiguously Gay Duo or munch on tree bark and rock Jansports while whining and bitching about the overly apparent lack of dense lyricism instead of delivering potent product that lasts longer than the snippet used in a ringtone and caters to all crowds, nobody really wants to mention the plain fact that most rappers are straight-up jackasses that could give three-eighths of a shit about any of their fans even if they’re shining their knob while simultaneously purchasing three copies of their newest shit sammich.

With all this drug abuse, violence, misogyny and all kinds of random-ass quasi-Fagitry (not that there’s anything wrong with that...) sprouting up more often than not, it’s gotten pretty difficult for anybody who genuinely loves this shit (such as yours truly) to get up an defend the shit. Whereas there seemingly was an equal balance of intelligence and hopelessness in rap before, most humps would rather indulge in their faux-drug kingpin fantasies than inspire others to read a book. In their defense though, I can respect someone who actually has the balls to go out and pwn some hump personally than either rap about doing it – or worse – get one of their ganja moolies to slap up someone. In the latter scenario though, I’d much rather be the one catching a two-piece and a biscuit than be the schmuck who hires somebody to beat me up. Think about it: hiring some goons to jump someone else when you could very well do it yourself is on some straight-up “I don’t want to mess up my manicure” shit. You get no wins en mi casa on that shit.

It also doesn’t help that there aren’t any proper role models any more. Anybody who truly believes that a greased-up, ‘roid-raged shitbag excuse for a rapper can be the voice of the ghettos across the nation has to be out of their fucking mind. The worst part about this is that cracka-ass media conglomerates grab the closest inbred artist the can find and have them make a fool of themselves on an international level trying to debate – and then superbly failing in the process – with the likes of Anderson Cooper or Neil Cavuto. You’ll never see some tatted-up battyman waxing legitimate poetics about the Darfur situation today, so long as there are no hip-hop-related ramifications.

I suppose I should take some sort of pride that there still a small section of diehard fans, though their sometimes-unnatural (and quite frankly unhealthy) allegiance to artists raises my eyebrows. I’ll lean more towards certain rappers than others like the next man, but when I see some random-ass schlub like comments section whipping boy cheezydodo claim he got the reacharound from the Dirt Angel himself (ayoooo...) something definitely isn’t right with that picture at all.

The way things are spiraling out of control now, it’s a wonder everybody comes out of the woodwork to blame rap once they drop the dreaded n-word or “nappy-headed hoe.” With its idiotic representatives running around thinking shit is too sweet (pun intended), I’m surprised that the entire genre hasn’t been banned yet.

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