• » Name: Meka Soul
• » Location: Los Angeles, CA
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	July 2008
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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

Du-Rags & Fruit Bags

Before I begin this shit, I must stress once again that I don’t have a problem with both homosexuality and the homosexual community. In fact, nothing is sexier than two women scissoring in some random-ass Round & Brown video I stole off the Internets, but I digress. I mean, if I can watch a chick get BuFu’d by another broad with a strap-on (I’m looking at you Pinky), watching some random-ass dude plow her isn’t too queer, right?

Extra pause no Razor Ramon with a side of Koko B. Ware on this entire blog, just to be on the safe side.

Anyways, hip-hop is supposed to be the most homophobic genre of music in the sense that there would probably never be a top-selling homosexual rapper thanks to the decidedly anti-gay slander of your favorite artists, because we all know if you really want to shit on your enemy’s credibility, the quickest way to do so is to call them a fruit bag. If that’s the case then, why is it more often than not I see some gay-ass shit on the regular? I understand that today’s society is much more tolerant than it was a good ten years ago, but a lot of your favorite artists have been pulling the most random-ass shit that borderlines – or in some cases crosses that line – on Fagitry. I could throw the blame on poor record sales forcing artists and executives to try “creative measures” to attract attention, but I don’t think the TIs would even approve of any of the shit that’s been going on lately.

Someone I’ve always considered rather fruity (or simply touched in the head) was the R&B equivalent of Jerry Lee Lewis: R. Kelly. Despite being able to afford all the legal tang he could eat, what with making songs comparing women to gas-guzzling cars and whatnot, he married Aaliyah when she was a ninth grader, effectively ethering out any past, present and future fantasies I had of her. So by the time he plopped his johnson on Sparkle’s niece’s forehead and used her face as target practice some seven years later, I figured he was simply taking his frustrations out on children because perhaps he was touched by his pops when he was young. Word to Michael Jackson.

But here’s the interesting thing: most of the jigs you see saying or doing some sideways sensitive shit are usually the ones who portray themselves as du-rag wearing goons who’ll pop a kufi off if it’s tilted the wrong way. I’d never imagine someone the likes of Omar from The Wire would have the enormous following he has now. When I went to junior high school with him, Ray J was never the tough, tight t-shirt-wearing schmuck he portrays in public now. Between having Sinbad touch him from the inside between takes of their shitty sitcom and getting jumped everyday after gym class, young Willie Norwood was never the atypical fake-ass thug you see today. In his defense, he somehow bagged Kim Kardashian, but I think that stemmed from the fact that his sister is the only hardbody member of that family, what with her molly whopping some African on the freeway a while back. Then again, the high-yellow jig that got shot by Big Boi on ATL just smashed that last week, so it’s not like Kim’s preserving her sexy or anything.

Although certain regions in the South have higher concentrations of homosexuals than the norm (don’t front), I’d never assume that the "tough guy" rappers there would engage in some flagrantly fruity shit. Funny thing is, despite all of this they’re still making a lot of, if not more, noise. If I were to call myself the best rapper alive and then get caught kissing my surrogate father on some faux Fat Tony shit, I’m pretty sure my record sales and fan base would go down the shitter, yet Weasel F. Fraggle inexplicably gains more fans on a daily basis. Meanwhile, my rapping brother from another mother Donwill posted the “infamous” video of T-Pain running around spewing some wild homo jibba jabba about Willie Norwood’s meat last week, and he has the number three single in America right now. Could it be that because of their quasi-homosexual banter that they’ve gained a new, down-low fan base? I’m just saying.

If this trend continues, I’d actually welcome the rants of some random-ass e-thug threatening to put something hot in my face. Perhaps then I’d get enough comments to convince my overlords to increase the digit I make here per month. But knowing my luck, my career would probably end up like Fat Lip's.

53 Comments             

B.E.T.: WTF?

A couple days ago I caught two surprisingly decent shows on hipster programming-turned-minstrel system, VH1: ego trip’s Illest Minority Moments and The Last Days of Left Eye.  Although the folks at ego trip will be known more for that “reality” show where OG cracka-ass rapper MC Serch made asses of a shitload of other marginally talented cracka-ass rappers by making them race around some random-ass New York neighborhood beating rat-shaped piñatas and what have you, their magazine was also responsible for shaping how many hip-hop publications work today in terms of their forward thinking and, ahem, shit-talking. I really didn’t find Last Days too interesting, but I was a bit stunned for words when they literally showed the final seconds of Left Eye’s life, cutting the footage right when Left Eye’s car began to spin out of control. I even had to rewind that shit a couple times because I didn’t believe it. Needless to say, it was pretty heart wrenching.

It’s interesting how once-starch stiff channels are slowly embracing the hip-hop culture, albeit in a sometimes ass-backwards setup. It was hard for me to look at Ludacris seriously on that one Law & Order episode when a week prior he was fighting gingivitis on The Simpsons.  And while 60 Minutes has shown more rap-related content (although it started popping up more often after Ed Bradley was ethered. Coincidence?), I’m not sure if having Cam’Ron explaining the “stop snitching” phenomenon helped matters. Asinine, but progress nonetheless.

So even after all of this publicity, you would think that the original channel for it would be its ideal representation, but sadly that’s not the case. It’s sad how Black Entertainment Television has become the conduit for the more retarded symbols of hip-hop, if not black culture as a whole. I remember College Hill more for the time that one chick got her cranium cracked by her roommate than for the actual people on the show. Replacing their news programming with old, edited episodes of The Wire has definitely got to be one of the dumber moves the network has done. And anybody who refers to the city of Baldwin Hills as a “black Beverly Hills” has got to be out of their fucking mind. For those who are unfamiliar with the city, it’s essentially a few blocks away from one of the roughest neighborhoods in Southern California, a town lovingly referred to as “The Jungles.”

What is sad now is that before Bob Johnson decided to cash out to own that shitty Charlotte basketball team, B.E.T. was probably the most influential channel since MTV. Mixing equal parts music, news, comedy and politics encompassed what hip-hop was about. But once Bob sold the shit to the tall Israelis, all of that went down the shitter, replacing icons like Rachel and Jacque Reid (how fine were they?) with fruity-ass Big Tigger and BET UnCut. In the latter’s defense though, I’ve never laughed so hard in my life, and “What Dat Thing Smell Like” still gets play in my iPod, but I digress. I already knew something wasn’t right when Little Brother – a Southern rap group of all people –  couldn’t get play on that shit, and that channel plays virtually any half-assed shit song. Webbie, anyone?

122 Comments             

The South Lost

Ever since my esteemed Gotdamn Editor gave yours truly a slot on this section of the Internets, I’ve tried to spend an equal and balanced time shitting on your favorite rappers from the South. Unfortunately, most of my admittedly biased jibba jabba has been misconstrued as hate for an entire region. As I’ve said many times here, I don’t dislike the South as a whole; I just can’t stand most of the rap music that comes from there. If I were to ever say I hated the South, I'd also be disrespecting the Civil Rights Movement of the sixties, the jazz, blues, rock and soul legends and most importantly, the women that are from there [1]. I may be a fucked up person, but even I know my limits.

That said, I couldn’t help but notice the ever-widening cracks in Southern hip-hop’s once impenetrable armor. Whereas the worst no-name rappers could finagle their way to at least a gold plaque before, now the marginally talented ones find themselves relying on ringtone sales of all things to keep the lights on. Until recently I couldn’t tell you who the fuck Baby Boy Da Prince was, but after flipping through the latest copy of XXL, he’s sold more ringtones than actual albums. I don’t know what’s more ass-backwards; the fact he couldn’t give his CD away if he wanted to or the fact that a 15-second clip of a craptacular song gave him more shine than the actual song itself.

Even the so-called “legends” in the game can’t catch a break now. OutKast didn’t even go gold with their last joint, T.I.’s new single isn’t doing shit and both UGK and Lil Wayne’s albums have had their wigs pushed back. You know something is really wrong, however, when Mike Jones’ (alleged) sex tape gets more burn than his latest shit sammich. What the hell happened anyways, Texas? “Still Tippin’” was my shit, and Scarface is one of the greatest rappers ever. Now you guys can’t even will yourselves to a plaque?

Ironically, despite all of their sudden shortcomings, I find myself actually liking some of the shit they’ve been dropping [2]. Scottish skirts notwithstanding, the song and video for UGK and Outkast’s “International Player’s Anthem” is surprisingly dope [3], while Weasel F. Fraggle pulled himself out of Baby long enough to jack one of the samples found on that crappy Rhymefest album for his new song “La La La,” which isn’t too bad if you can get past the “I keep crack in my draws” line without chuckling a little.

But if the South continues to falter, what happens to hip-hop’s current downward spiral? I’m not sure, but if even the simplest of raps can’t convince even the dumbest window lickers to buy it, I highly doubt the complex rhyme schemes I prefer to listen to won’t do anything to salvage the situation. As much as I like Pharoahe Monch’s new album (I’m even buying the shit when it comes out officially), I just know he’s gonna sell like eight copies in his first week. Sad, really.

***
Apparently the TIs in Italy have been using yours truly in a commercial without my knowledge. Roughly translated, there’s a part in the commercial that says, “This is a dream come true, it comes in black and white.” I’m actually thinking of changing my blog’s name to that shit now. Extra shout outs go to the Clark Bros. from DC for supplying me with this.

[1] Atlanta women > Los Angeles women. Someone tell me I’m wrong.

[2] I am a fan of shitty music after all.

[3] Does anybody else find it a little unsettling that Pimp C is rocking a fur coat and hat in the middle of a wedding in the middle of hot-ass Texas? I bet you he was tucking one of those Megatron-sized blammers in there. That has to be the only logical explanation.

51 Comments             

Do We Really Need More Fried Chicken In Our Lives?

Before I start off, a few thoughts: has anyone heard from Cam’Ron yet? June 1st was a few days ago and I still haven’t heard as much as a peep from the guy. Not that I’m anticipating anything enthralling, but I’m still cracking up on that “vacation home” video. I’ve even started barking “Get my fuckin’ pool in the back!” when I score during pickup basketball games at the park. But I digress.

Anyways, in case you didn’t realize, June is not only historical since it marks the month where slaves were emancipated and, um, the birth of Tupac, but it’s also Black Music Month. So you know what that means: not only will we see an influx of rappers popping up in commercials during primetime hours (I'm looking in your direction, Clifford), but they’ll be a shitload of corporations telling us to purchase their poisons in the name of this shit, as if they gave a fuck about it in the first place.

And that’s the thing: if the TIs really cared about preserving the music and culture (and we all know they don't), they would do more than offer dumbass contests, as in the case of perennial kryptonite makers KFC [1]. For all the billions that corporation makes pushing off fried chicken, you’d think they’d give more than just a half a day’s worth of studio time and a guest slot on Rap City to the winner. Making millions off someone else’s hard work (albeit a shitty jingle, but hard work nonetheless) while giving them a couple greenbacks is unevenly wrong on so many levels.

And if you really think about it, does the hip-hop community need more of this shit? It’s bad enough there’s beef (e-thugs are running this rap shit now?), gunplay, drug and alcohol abuse, misogyny, Fagitry, underage sex and Lord knows what else running rampant. The last thing I need is a bunch of jigs going around telling me how a fucking bucket of chicken helps increase the peace in the hood. Besides, wasn’t there already a YouTube video for that shit last year?

Bottom line is, if you honestly care about the music that’s shaped generations upon generations as well as generations to come, rapping about KFC, Newports, Budweiser or whatever is about as useful as me going to church and falling asleep during the service [2]; the message falls through the cracks and therefore doesn’t mean shit. Going to one of the many free hip-hop concerts going on throughout the summer in New York and still donating supports the culture more. A ditty about some drumsticks? Not so much.

[1] Those honey barbeque boneless wings be that crack, though.

[2] I’ll save my religious rants for another blog.

37 Comments             

D.A.R.E. To Keep Rappers Off Drugs

Reason number 859 why hip-hop stinks to high Hell now: rampant drug and alcohol abuse. Think about it: most rappers are higher than gas prices every single day. Hell, most rappers are probably getting fucked up as you read this shit. Considering that drugs are known to alter your state of mind, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that they’ll fuck with any rapper’s cognitive reasoning, leading to the audio equivalent of hot garbage.

While in some cases albums are entertaining while said rappers are on some shit (Muddy Waters is quite possibly the best weed – and who knows what else – fueled album ever), if you’re an already shitty rapper, being under the influence certainly isn’t helping matters. After suffering through Da Drought 3, “Prostitute Flange” and a whole bunch of other shit currently swimming throughout the Internets, I’m thoroughly convinced that Lil’ Wayne couldn’t be a decent rapper even if Baby stopped touching him from the inside during their ecstasy-fueled “studio sessions.” Pause. Actually, I kind of hoped that Weasel was popping pills and smoking weed before he got into the booth; the shit he’s been spewing as of late is on some incredibly random-ass shit. “Leave you missing like the fuckin’ O’Bannon’s?” Clean. “I play basketball with the moon?” Not so much.

To make things worse, weed carriers are getting picked off a la Duck Hunt more frequently than usual. While part of it has to do with the fact that most people view them as expendable roaches – let’s face it; one jig gets his kufi popped off, and two more take his place – I think that it’s more or less jealousy for the fact they get paid and tang just for doing nothing but holding their bosses’ stash for a living. In that sense the animosity towards them is understandable, but what about those that carry for a boss that can barely make the rent? Fat Joe – who already ganked a no-name rapper for his rhyme book [1] – hightailed it out of the country when two of his own piff pocketers got ethered while damn near sitting in his lap. I don’t know what makes less sense: the fact that the shooter picked off two random-ass Mexicans, or the fact he missed Fat Fucking Joe when he lit up their Escalade. I’m just saying.

I believe that today’s rap probably wouldn’t stink so much if the rappers themselves weren’t fucked up all the time. Perhaps they should find other things to spend their money on, like silk shirts with the chest all out or some Louis Vuitton driving shoes. Shit, Kanye West does it, and he’s been tricking the general public into thinking he's a great artist for the past 4 years now [2].

[1] He could have at least stolen Pun’s. I mean it’s not like he needs it anymore.

[2] I guess yoking Daft Punk for their catalogue is that crack now. I just know that someone's gonna jack the loop for "One More Time" soon.

56 Comments             

25 Ways To Die

With all the rap lists that popped up over the past few weeks (mine included), I can honestly say that this is the best one I’ve read. Without further adieu here’s my Central American blogging brother from another mother, Belize...

Your ears are important! Did you know that your ear not only detects sound, but it also is the main factor in the sense of balance and body position? Ill shyt huh? So I feel sorry for all the poor souls that lose that important niche in their life, simply because they bought an overly promoted wack CD. It’s a fucking crime I say! Fuck a Cam’Ron, I'm snitching! The corruption of eardrums has reached its peek and I must do a Hiro and fix this shyt - or die trying. Werd!

Many writers recently contributed to giving their Top 25 albums, in fact a group of bloggers recently united to create a Top 25 list (although I call them fuckin' cheaters for not sticking to the one artist rule, but whatever).
Well, my list is different. These albums signify the ideal term of Garbage a/k/a Trash a/k/a Fuckin’ Terrible (You get the point right?). So, here it is - if you want to prevent early hearing loss, loss of balance and bad positioning- leave 'em on the shelf. Please, it’s only for your best interest.

*BTW, if an album fucked up your eardrums, please feel free to let me know so that fellow readers can be warned - in advance.

25. The Love Movement (A Tribe Called Quest) - Classic group. Classic albums. Yet they decided to part ways with a grand finale CD, instead I got this. Perfect way to end a classic career huh? Still waiting on that reunion album Tip... still waiting...

24. Nastradamus (Nas) - I remember it like yesterday, Nas was on the cover of XXL magazine, burning the shyt out of The Source. His album I Am just came out and it was banging - hard (nhjic). I opened the CD pamphlet and saw the Nastradamus ad. First thing I thought was - " WoW! Another one, already?" I was geeked for months. When the CD dropped I thought I was gonna be listening to sum NY State of Mind type shyt- Negative homes. I still got nightmares of this shyt.

23. Kiss Tha Game Goodbye (Jadakiss) - Let me first say that I am a Lox fan. I love Jada! That's why when I bought this CD I kept bumpin' 7 tracks. Then I realized that there were 21 cuts, and the best song was a skit. Shyt, unless you like wasting money- stay away. I bet nobody had the desire to listen to this shyt in years. I bet...

22. Tha Doggfather (Snoop Dogg) - The hype was great. The stakes were high. Pac dies, Dre left. Time to show and prove Snoop. Can we say pre-Dirk Meltdown?

21. Brothers From Another (Young Gunz) - If you own this CD - jump off a bridge.

20. 534 (Memphis Bleek) - Jay-Z retired. Beans is in jail. M.A.D.E was solid, yet The Carter Administration's plan was not to create classics but to kill eardrums. The nerve!

19. 10 (LL Cool J) - I gave LL credit until this album because before this shyt sandwich, he at least had one street banger. I guess pussy can do that from time to time (c) #11.

18. Young & Thuggin ' (Turk) - Every Hot Boy fan cringed at this release, especially since cats were arguing about who was better - Turk or Weezy...

17. Last Temptation (Ja Rule) - Some unknown rapper from Queens starts to call you pussy, matter of fact he makes a song about pussy and uses our name as the hook. Niggaz is starting to question your machismo, and what do you do? Well, you all know by now.

16. Ridin' High (8Ball and MJG) - All I gotta say is Track 9 made me ashamed to be a 8Ball/ MJG fan....

15. World Party (Goodie Mob) - Just look at the cover... did you expect a classic?

14. Midwest Cowboy (Bizzy Bone) - As far as lyrics go, Bizzy is spittin... but the beats are like hearing Michael Jackson's inner thoughts at a day care center. Scary.

13. Infamy (Mobb Deep) - Let me take you back. Jay-Z ethered Prodigy, onstage and on wax. The single came out and cats were loving it - then this CD dropped, which made everybody forget how great Murda Muzik was.

12. Blueprint 2: The Gift & The Curse (Jay-Z) - Save your money, cop the much slimmer 2.1 version.

11. Electric Circus (Common) - Yes, even great MC's get pussy whooped.

10. Year Of The Dog, Again (DMX) - Retired. Came back. Left Def Jam. Resigned to Columbia. What do you get? The equivalence of Garbage Water.

9. Loyal To The Game (2 Pac) - The way Eminem butchered these Pac classics are damn near unforgivable. However, if your a Pac fan and your one of those "I gotta have every CD", just know that DJ Quik, Scott Storch and Red Spyda save the day. Those beats make Eminem look like the beat making amateur that he really is.

8. Born Again (Notorious B.I.G.) - Not even 2 hot singles could save this disaster.

7. Tical 0 (Method Man) - The only good thing I can say about this CD was that it gave Meth the spark needed to make 4:21.

6. Split Personality (Cassidy) - I wouldn't recommend this CD to my worst enemy.

5. Killa Season (Cam’Ron) - Which was worse? The DVD or this? Even DipSet fans regretted this shyt-of-a-mess.

4. Thoughts Of A Predicate Felon (Tony Yayo) - Curtis's favorite album of all time.

3. Can-I-Bus (Canibus) - Read my old post, and realize how much a fuckin’ disappointment this album was. Matter of fact... I'm... done... yeah... I'm done talking about this... gettin' pissed now...

2. Double Up (Ma$e) - I guess when Ma$e said double up, he meant trannies.

1. Opposite Of H2O (Drag-On) - Hot label? Check. Hot mentor? Check. Hot cameos? Check Hot Single? Check.... Hot Album?? Negatives, this my friends is the worst 12 bucks I have ever spent. Avoid this at all cost! Your ears will thank you.

And that's my list... Read...Learn... Thank me later...

41 Comments             

Black Women, An Endangered Species

This past Memorial Day weekend, I took a trip to Tijuana, Mexico for the first time. While I found the city be nothing more than an overrated cesspool of underage drinking and titty bars, I noticed something interesting while indulging in piss-poor beer and surgically altered breasts: all of the strippers are shaped liked black women.

For all the flak they catch on the daily, black women are quite possibly the most bitten species in the world today. From the way they talk to their physical shape to even their complexion, the melanin-thick woman is perhaps the most ripped off thing today, probably even more than hip-hop culture.

My question is, if black women are copied so much, why is it they’re constantly being styled on by men? You would think that despite all the carbon copies out there, most of us would prefer the original thing, but apparently it’s not the case.

Before it became cool to splash them with Cisco in music videos, most broads in music videos were about as flat and pale as a piece of paper. I don’t know about you, but the women in those old-ass Poison and White Snake joints sure as shit didn’t give me a chubby. Pause. I’m not sure exactly when it became the norm, but my first times seeing a thick-bodied chick were on the cover of Ice-T’s Power album [1] and a couple random-ass 2 Live Crew videos. But while rappers were pulling every big-assed-large-hootered woman out of the woodwork, mainstream (read: cracka-ass cracka) America failed to take notice until Jennifer Lopez made it cool. To this day she’s still considered the ideal prototype for a woman’s shape, which I call bullshit on since she hasn’t been thick since she did those flicks with lumberjack palefaces Matthew McConaughey and Ben Affleck.

Now it seems like no music video, commercial, BET television show, workout video, infomercial, strip club or porno is complete without the omnipresent cola-bottled woman. Yet oddly enough, it’s usually a PAWG, Latina or some high-yellow chick. Could it be that while the mainstream wants to adapt the black woman’s shape, they don’t want to accept the baggage that comes along with it? I understand that their attitudes and “independent woman” ideals may scare a couple jigs, but in all honesty who wants some subservient tramp? I may be a biased hater, but I’d at least like a woman who I won’t use as a welcome mat.

The worst part about this is now that black women aren’t as accepted as their whiter versions, people are more inclined to shit on them about their other aspects as well. While I was... err... “researching” the “Beauty & Brains” section of this site, one of its featured women, Wahidah Fowler, was ripped to shreds in the comments section, while Joanna Shari – her Italian counterpart – was “lauded” by most of the humps here. While part of me wants to believe that this is due to the mental programming the TIs have used to convince society that unless your ancestry was tainted by centuries of gang-rapes from white slave owners, thick black girls are about as valuable as a Ugo on cinder blocks, I more or less think that it was due to Ms. Fowler’s name, which on the surface wouldn’t really strike anyone as “sexy,” and her long locks, which are the opposite of the atypical permed-and-burned mane straight from the back of Barbaro’s dead ass, more so than her body. Call me crazy, but I’d rather take a black woman whose moniker is Muslim for “unique” (or “exclusive,” depending on where you look) and is curvier than an autobahn over her paler opposite any day of the week. And while I don’t have any particular preference when it comes to women, I definitely have one when it comes to the woman’s shape, and I’d choose the original over its imitation.

[1] Darlene could still get it to this day. Fuck CoCo.

69 Comments             

T.I. Is The New MC Hammer

For all the shit-talking that goes on over here about Lil Wayne and his sub par rapping skills, quasi-homosexual relationship with his surrogate bunk buddy and apparent prostitute fetish [1], not too many people have “discussed” that other weak-ass rapper from the South, T.I. Granted, while our “newest” addition to our blogging circle [2] wrote some random-ass jibba jabba about him yesterday, I was emailed a while back from one of my female fans (albeit without a picture and/or phone number, but whatever) to talk about MC Rotisserie Chest, but at the time he wasn’t doing anything too grating other than popping up next to Dale Earnhardt, Jr. in those retarded Chevrolet commercials.

I’ve never understood the public’s infatuation with T.I. While I’m amazed that he’s become one of the few rappers that’s stayed in the public eye for the better part of this decade, I’ve never bought that whole “King Of The South” bullshit for a second, especially after I saw him doing the Kid ‘N Play dance with Beenie Man in that goofy-ass video for “I’m Serious.” Even after his first shit sammich went double plastic wood grain, he managed to stick around long enough to put out three more abominations, each one sounding worse, yet inexplicably selling better, than its predecessor.

Back in the day, everybody harped on MC Hammer’s decisions to promote poison like Taco Bell and Pepsi, when what they failed to realize was that Hammer was onto something back then that is more prevalent now than it’s ever been: there’s more guap to be made in Hollywood than there is in rap. Ironically, a few years after Hammer faded into obscurity, Method Man, Redman and Snoop Dogg were pushing off bum wines like St. Ides, while Mack 10 and Fat Joe were trying not to pass out while squeezing their fat asses into the red and yellow lions for that Sprite take on Voltron. Hammerman was the predecessor for shit like Andre 3000 and David Banner’s dumbass cartoons. In that sense, T.I. should thank the Funky Headhunter for being rap’s media pariah, because if not for him jumping off buildings and using his parachute pants to float down, the paleface TIs that run corporate America wouldn’t have been dumb enough to pay a former crack peddler to endorse their gas-guzzling wares to our demographic. On a semi-related note, why the fuck do I always see that commercial during an episode of Soul Train or some shit? I never see NBC playing that dumb shit during Heroes or Dateline. The only other time I do catch it is when I see modern-day minstrels like King Booker on WWE Smackdown!, but I digress.
 
I will give Clifford points however for Charles Oakleying the fuck out of that other shitbag rapper’s career, Lil’ Flip. If he didn’t go to his hometown, slap the ever-loving shit out of him in front of his friends and then make records about it with DJ Drama, we probably would have had to suffer through another bullshit song like “Sunshine.” And he was partly responsible for bringing the whole “make it rain” movement to the public eye. Had his bottom bitch Philant Johnson not gotten ethered on the highway last year (in probably a Chevy nonetheless), we may have not seen some hilariously fucked up shit like “Pacman” Jones throwing $81,000 at a stripper, then smacking the flames out of her ass when she got the gall to pick the money up in Las Vegas a few months back.

If T.I. and Lil Wayne are supposedly the best things the South has to offer to hip-hop, their detractors won’t have to be complaining about their musical taste for too long. If anything, Clifford more or less resembles a younger version of Grandpa Simpson today: middling rhyming skills, but the inane ability to appear in advertisements for cracka-ass companies. Hell, if he could do cheerleader moves on roller skates in ATL and run around with a waxed turkey-looking torso in that new shitty video of his, I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw him in the future gyrating in some Doc Martens and zebra-print Speedos a la “Pumps And A Bump.” Pause to all of that of course.

[1] I wonder if he was talking to Trina - or at least a woman - on that song. And exactly what the fuck does a “flange” have to do with the song? Southern rap these days...

[2] Exactly how many bloggers do we have now?
 

42 Comments             

Critical Beatdown

A few weeks back, the Internets were in a nostalgia-related tizzy, creating lists of what they felt were the greatest rap albums of all time. When my Central American blogging brother from another mother Belize (who unfortunately holds the title of “the most overlooked and slept-on blogger”) suggested that I should create my own list, I thought about it for a moment, but realized I couldn’t since so much more music inspires and piques my interest in hip-hop. I couldn’t add Illmatic without throwing in the Heath Brothers, nor could a laud about Like Water For Chocolate without acknowledging the contributions of Bobby Caldwell and The Family Stand [1].

Despite this state of confusion, I subsequently followed with a list of timeless songs by otherwise craptacular rappers. Unfortunately it was not well received, as once again I got a shitload of e-attacks for my choices. Not that I wasn’t surprised of course; anybody who honestly believes that Pimp C isn’t a shitbag rapper has got to be out of their fucking mind. He looks like someone who humps ottomans in the off-season, but I digress.

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t hate or have a problem with hip-hop (just the schmucks in it). And while I refuse to listen to music that makes me want to lean like a cholo on the 405 Freeway [2], there are many other sounds that I wholeheartedly support (read: illegally download from the Internets). Without further adieu, I’d like to present a shorthand list of those favorites. In an effort to combat coastal discrimination yet again, I’ll drop one song from each relevant coast (West, East, South and Midwest). Feel free to suggest your own as well.

Federation, “Donkey” (click here): I try not to venture up north too much for music because let’s face it, nothing has set the movement started by the Black Panthers back worse than a bunch of jackasses having epileptic seizures while on the hood of their moving hooptie. Every once in a while however, they’ll pull some incredible shit out of their ass (pause?), and this Rick Rock-produced heatrock is no exception. The braying in the background is fucking priceless, and if there were more videos like this I’d probably respect the hyphy “movement” more.

J-Live, “One For The Griot” (click here): Although the original concepts of New York-based lyricism has regressed into a horrible mish mash of nursery rhymes over shitty Casio beats, there are still a few artists out there that still read a dictionary from time to time. In a song inspired by the movie Memento, the artist formerly known as Justice Allah takes storytelling to another level.

DJ Hi-Tek, “Keep It Moving” (click here) While too many people are thoughtlessly referring to Tooda as the “new Primo” in hip-hop, they’ve also apparently forgotten about the Midwest beatsmith responsible for Rawkus Records’ backpacker renaissance. Honestly, I had a tough time choosing this joint out of about eight others, but it was the soulful cooing, ridiculously ill falsetto [3] and a re-energized Kurupt and Q-Tip that did it in for me.

DJ Premier, “Doobie Ashtray” (click here) and Polow Da Don, “Get Buck” (click here): Speaking of which, not a lot of people know that Chris Martin was born in Houston, then emigrated east. Whereas Tooda has a somewhat annoying tendency to needlessly ad-lib over someone else’s beat to garner some attention, rappers always find their comfort zone within the snares of Premier’s compositions. And as much as I hate to admit, I have a guilty pleasure listening to songs such as “London Bridge” and “Buttons,” thanks to the beats from the King Of The White Girls. “Get Buck” is the best G-Unit song I’ve heard since “Heat” - which has my favorite Dr. Dre beat of all time - thanks to its Grambling Tiger Marching Band-inspired production.

[1] That album would never make my top 25, but follow me for a second.

[2] That shit is slowly replacing “Teabag Dat Hoe” as my favorite worst song ever.

[3] This is how a falsetto should be done. Pharrell should take notes.

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Allow Me To Reintroduce Myself

“It's your honesty that people have a problem with, Meka.” - DX commenter (and good friend) ReyTheHussein

A while back one of the faithful c-boys on this site (what up LOL) suggested that yours truly should write a post on the anatomy of a “hater,” which is a word I can definitely do without in my vocabulary. For a minute I seriously contemplated doing one, but then I realized there’s no way for me to stretch out a relatively moot subject into at least 400 words. Plus, I had to get up early for work the next day.

The reasoning behind the whole thing - from what I understand at least - is that if one’s opinions differ from those of the general consensus, said opinions are simply passed off as hate-filled negativity, while the individual is considered nothing more than a single, sex-deprived homosexual who should kill themselves for thinking such asinine nonsense. Pardon my Nigerian, but that has definitely got to be the most ass-backward piece of shit logic I’ve ever heard, and this is coming from a writer whose life has been cyber-threatened countless times [1] since I got here because I don’t think that Weasel F. Baby is one of hip-hop’s premier lyricists [2]. What many of those humps fail to realize is that a person’s beliefs are nothing more than that: their personal outlooks. If every member in this hip-hop society felt the exact same way about everything remotely related to the culture, the entire shit would truly be dead the way Nas yapped on about it last year. As I’ve said before, hip-hop is a fighter’s music, and while some of that fighting has been damaging to the culture, our difference in attitudes is one of the reasons why it is still going strong some 30-plus years after Kool Herc unwittingly introduced it to the world from his house parties on Sedgwick and Cedar. Opinions are like assholes; everybody’s got one.

Since I’m on the topic of assholes (pause), it shouldn’t be a surprise to any visitor that I’m the “local one” on this section of the Internets. While it’s simple to jump to that conclusion, as I’ll admit that I have a tendency to paint your favorite rapper in a rather unflattering light, I find it hilarious when I see how most of those hoppers here are quick to call me a “hater” at the drop of a dime. I’ve never been one to initiate or indulge in any sort “e-beef” [3], and it certainly isn’t my fault that most of the things I spit here tend to fly over heads here. I, like all my fellow bloggers, am here to offer my own criticisms based on my own personal values, and if I believe that your “producer du juor” is an overrated, half-‘tard twit who creates the audio equivalent of fecal matter, nobody can, will or is going to convince me otherwise nor can I do the same, and I refuse to switch my style just to appease a couple schmucks. On the other hand, I’m more than willing, ready and able to smack the kufi, ottoman, Pelle Pelle jacket and/or ever-loving shit out of anyone if I feel they’ve stepped out of pocket and insulted my intelligence [4]. Cheap jabs are meaningless if they don’t knock your opponent out [5].

As such, there’s been a few instances where my thoughts have been misconstrued as “shocking,” yet another word that is quickly becoming a loathsome bother to me [6]. The last time I checked my driver’s license I was well into my twenties and a couple years removed from receiving my college degree, so if any reader (or blogger for that matter) considers my opinions appalling, I figure they’re either still attached to their mother via the umbilical cord or they’ve not stepped into the real world and faced its harsh realities. With all the bullshit that’s played on the radio, paraded on television screens and downloaded from the Internets, the problems of society stemming from an overly corrupt government, wrongly imprisoned change makers and political activists, well-intentioned but clueless soldiers getting ethered in the Middle East for nothing and insane religious fanatics ready to blow themselves up for their God(dess), the last thing my own personal thoughts should ever be considered is “shocking.” There’s a reason why my shit is entitled Slap-Boxing With Jesus , not Spooning With Xenu.

Hip-hop is an incredibly beautiful culture that has spread from the basements of the Bronx to touch the lives and souls of billions of people across the globe. Yet many conformists still tend to nitpick the thoughts of a lone individual, which is not only a complete waste of energy and time, but is essentially fucking up the culture itself. If those same sheeple spent that same energy fixing the rapidly increasing problems in hip-hop, I’m pretty sure nobody would be bitching about the South’s musical sense anymore.

I’m just here to provide my views - and possibly clarity - on hip-hop. But if I have to crack a cranium or two to get my point across, so be it.

[1] Seriously folks, my sisters frighten me more than “random e-thug #10.”

[2] And he’s not. Quit fooling yourselves.

[3] And contrary to what my Midwestern blogging brother from another mother Willie Ketchum thinks, I don’t have the “penchant” or time, nor do I really care to start shit on the Internets. “E-beef” is childish, and I’m quite grown.

[4] Don’t be the next contestant on that Summer Jam screen. Nystradomus just got off easy.

[5] And yes, broke bastard and all, I’d still catch the next red eye to your place and smack the flames out your ass in front of your moms for your chain. But only if the correct buttons were pushed, however.

[6] Right next to “subliminal,” “swagger” and, of course, “hater.” It’s like people just learned these shits and are saying it to impress their friends now.

54 Comments             

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