August 15, 2007 | Tags: none
Major epiphany of the week number two: today’s hip-hop could be responsible for a lot of bitchmade people and activity in the hip-hop society.
Think about it: the wimpy behaviors of some of your favorite cRappers could be held accountable for this current influx of soft-ass knee grows (and hyper-sensitive, false YT c-prophets) as of late. Whereas being considered an “Average Joe” rapper used to be limited to that section of “intelligent, backpack” hip-hop, it now appears that the shit is starting to hit the supposed “thugged-out” artists also, albeit in a hilariously ass-backward way.
I never thought of this idea too much, but after reading my overlords' feature on tough talking weenies, it had me pondering: when exactly did it become cool to be such a bitch in hip-hop? Back in the day, rappers had to damn near Fat Man a church full of children to get any sort of street credibility. Now it just seems like gargling on some Dimetapp or rocking a v-neck muscle shirt and their sister’s skinny jeans will suffice.
While it’s understandable for an artist like Common, Lupe Fiasco or even Kanye West to run around like they used to shower with their socks still on after gym class (remember that?), as they never pushed themselves as gun-toting über-thugs in the first place, seeing some random-ass hump posing in a flagrantly fruity manner a la Curtsy in
GQ is now becoming the standard in hip-hop. But it’s not like anybody shouldn’t have seen this coming: once the gangbangers started running around in Nadeshiko Pink, I knew that all bets were off.
In a sense though, I should be relieved that most rappers prefer to talk shit and act like bitches, than talk shit and actually back it up, especially since the last couple peoples to get ethered in hip-hop were nothing more than weed carriers, and we all know expendable they are. At the same time, this scenario is proving the underlying theme of hypocrisy in today’s hip-hop, making today’s prominent shitbag artists come off as liars. I mean, who’d be shook if some random-ass, tatted-up goon in a Hanes Her Way halter-top tried to style on them with an unloaded biscuit?
At the same time, I can’t help but feel a little perturbed about the younger generation growing up to worship these assclowns. It’s already been proven that without a prominent male role model in their lives, little boys will start doing some suspect shit early in their lives like, say, p-popping on YouTube, as if that’s the thing to do. If the youth don’t bother with a “regular” rapper telling them it’s alright to be yourself – or at least some tough-talking rapper who can back up his words - I fear that said generation will grow up to be a bunch of no-backbone-having, bitchmade meatwads. Hopefully by then though, this rapidly-deteriorating globe would have taken me out by then, so I don’t have to be a witness to that sad-ass shit.
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Speaking of my superblogging status, I may/may not go on hiatus for a bit, thanks to some random-ass food bug I caught at a dive last night. As much as I hate to not do one (you humps don't realize how much I love doing this shit), there are times when I realize I'm not Blak Supaman. Damn you, Percy.
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