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Slap-Boxing With Jesus
Foxy Brown Lost
Before I start this, one quick, unrelated question: why are all the rappers suddenly going on the BALCO diet? It’s bad enough Curtsy, Timbaland and Busta Rhymes look like elongated action figures, but Dr. Dre too? My guess is he's finally tired of getting sucker-punched at various awards shows now.
In any case, for the past few days I’ve been listening to a playlist on my iPod that actually consists of two playlists meshed into one: Yonkers’ exceptionally-talented-but-continuously-losing D-Block, and a team who’s epic downward spiral into obscurity has provided hours of comedic fodder for my cousin and I during our Madden nights: The Diplomats. The frustrating thing about this whole thing is that these two separate camps had the talent and depth to actually become a huge force in East Coast hip-hop only to have their careers derailed by boneheaded decisions, what with The Lox essentially signing away their lives to Diddy then having to beg him on Hot 97 for their manhood back (no, seriously), and the Dips having the foolish notion that a rapper who rocks clothes the color of a hymen could take them to the promised land.
The interesting thing about their respective scenarios, however, is the fact that they’ve been able to retain some sort of relevance in the omnipresent mixtape game. That, and the empty threats to make it a “real hot summer.” Honestly, considering that his butt buddy Jim Jones won’t talk to him but he will talk to Fiddy, both Hell Rell’s and 40 Cal’s album will make about as much money as I do a year (which isn’t much) and nobody’s seen the guy in months, it’s safe to say that Cam’Run lost.
Speaking of losers, it’s nice to see that the progression of the women’s movement in rap has deteriorated to the point where Fergie and Nelly Furtado are the torchbearers of the shit now. I honestly don’t know how it happened, but the fact that female rappers are now more likely to shoot the shit out of their weed carrier, catch drunk-driving charges and do time in the bing than actually deliver an album has got to be one of the more sad things in hip-hop. Think about it: who really wants to be involved in an arena of nothing but guys running around with their chests all puffed out like Kirby’s Dream Land? Rappers down to c-boys talk like homophobes all the time, yet they run around with no shirt on. Um, what?
The latest blow (heh) to female rap is Foxy Brown’s impending prison sentence. Where she was once in line to be one of the best female rappers ever, she’s now been reduced to slugging it out with Chink nail painters over a $45 manicure bill, stealing clothes like Winona Ryder and other random-ass, hood-rat-gone-wild shit usually reserved for those broads I saw on the subways with their inmate boyfriend/baby daddy’s name tatted on their arms. Shit, if it’s that bad Inga, I could have sprung the bill for you; my monthly cell phone bill is more expensive than that shit. Not to sound like a chauvinistic asshole (yeah, right), but maybe if women rappers focused more on their waning relevance than on the slores that get MasterCards swiped down their asscrack in music videos, perhaps guys wouldn’t resort to having them strip in music videos to remain relevant. I’m just saying.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Foxy Brown Lost
Before I start this, one quick, unrelated question: why are all the rappers suddenly going on the BALCO diet? It’s bad enough Curtsy, Timbaland and Busta Rhymes look like elongated action figures, but Dr. Dre too? My guess is he's finally tired of getting sucker-punched at various awards shows now.
In any case, for the past few days I’ve been listening to a playlist on my iPod that actually consists of two playlists meshed into one: Yonkers’ exceptionally-talented-but-continuously-losing D-Block, and a team who’s epic downward spiral into obscurity has provided hours of comedic fodder for my cousin and I during our Madden nights: The Diplomats. The frustrating thing about this whole thing is that these two separate camps had the talent and depth to actually become a huge force in East Coast hip-hop only to have their careers derailed by boneheaded decisions, what with The Lox essentially signing away their lives to Diddy then having to beg him on Hot 97 for their manhood back (no, seriously), and the Dips having the foolish notion that a rapper who rocks clothes the color of a hymen could take them to the promised land.
The interesting thing about their respective scenarios, however, is the fact that they’ve been able to retain some sort of relevance in the omnipresent mixtape game. That, and the empty threats to make it a “real hot summer.” Honestly, considering that his butt buddy Jim Jones won’t talk to him but he will talk to Fiddy, both Hell Rell’s and 40 Cal’s album will make about as much money as I do a year (which isn’t much) and nobody’s seen the guy in months, it’s safe to say that Cam’Run lost.
Speaking of losers, it’s nice to see that the progression of the women’s movement in rap has deteriorated to the point where Fergie and Nelly Furtado are the torchbearers of the shit now. I honestly don’t know how it happened, but the fact that female rappers are now more likely to shoot the shit out of their weed carrier, catch drunk-driving charges and do time in the bing than actually deliver an album has got to be one of the more sad things in hip-hop. Think about it: who really wants to be involved in an arena of nothing but guys running around with their chests all puffed out like Kirby’s Dream Land? Rappers down to c-boys talk like homophobes all the time, yet they run around with no shirt on. Um, what?
The latest blow (heh) to female rap is Foxy Brown’s impending prison sentence. Where she was once in line to be one of the best female rappers ever, she’s now been reduced to slugging it out with Chink nail painters over a $45 manicure bill, stealing clothes like Winona Ryder and other random-ass, hood-rat-gone-wild shit usually reserved for those broads I saw on the subways with their inmate boyfriend/baby daddy’s name tatted on their arms. Shit, if it’s that bad Inga, I could have sprung the bill for you; my monthly cell phone bill is more expensive than that shit. Not to sound like a chauvinistic asshole (yeah, right), but maybe if women rappers focused more on their waning relevance than on the slores that get MasterCards swiped down their asscrack in music videos, perhaps guys wouldn’t resort to having them strip in music videos to remain relevant. I’m just saying.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Foxy Brown Lost
Before I start this, one quick, unrelated question: why are all the rappers suddenly going on the BALCO diet? It’s bad enough Curtsy, Timbaland and Busta Rhymes look like elongated action figures, but Dr. Dre too? My guess is he's finally tired of getting sucker-punched at various awards shows now.
In any case, for the past few days I’ve been listening to a playlist on my iPod that actually consists of two playlists meshed into one: Yonkers’ exceptionally-talented-but-continuously-losing D-Block, and a team who’s epic downward spiral into obscurity has provided hours of comedic fodder for my cousin and I during our Madden nights: The Diplomats. The frustrating thing about this whole thing is that these two separate camps had the talent and depth to actually become a huge force in East Coast hip-hop only to have their careers derailed by boneheaded decisions, what with The Lox essentially signing away their lives to Diddy then having to beg him on Hot 97 for their manhood back (no, seriously), and the Dips having the foolish notion that a rapper who rocks clothes the color of a hymen could take them to the promised land.
The interesting thing about their respective scenarios, however, is the fact that they’ve been able to retain some sort of relevance in the omnipresent mixtape game. That, and the empty threats to make it a “real hot summer.” Honestly, considering that his butt buddy Jim Jones won’t talk to him but he will talk to Fiddy, both Hell Rell’s and 40 Cal’s album will make about as much money as I do a year (which isn’t much) and nobody’s seen the guy in months, it’s safe to say that Cam’Run lost.
Speaking of losers, it’s nice to see that the progression of the women’s movement in rap has deteriorated to the point where Fergie and Nelly Furtado are the torchbearers of the shit now. I honestly don’t know how it happened, but the fact that female rappers are now more likely to shoot the shit out of their weed carrier, catch drunk-driving charges and do time in the bing than actually deliver an album has got to be one of the more sad things in hip-hop. Think about it: who really wants to be involved in an arena of nothing but guys running around with their chests all puffed out like Kirby’s Dream Land? Rappers down to c-boys talk like homophobes all the time, yet they run around with no shirt on. Um, what?
The latest blow (heh) to female rap is Foxy Brown’s impending prison sentence. Where she was once in line to be one of the best female rappers ever, she’s now been reduced to slugging it out with Chink nail painters over a $45 manicure bill, stealing clothes like Winona Ryder and other random-ass, hood-rat-gone-wild shit usually reserved for those broads I saw on the subways with their inmate boyfriend/baby daddy’s name tatted on their arms. Shit, if it’s that bad Inga, I could have sprung the bill for you; my monthly cell phone bill is more expensive than that shit. Not to sound like a chauvinistic asshole (yeah, right), but maybe if women rappers focused more on their waning relevance than on the slores that get MasterCards swiped down their asscrack in music videos, perhaps guys wouldn’t resort to having them strip in music videos to remain relevant. I’m just saying.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
A Lighter Shade Of Brown
As I may have mentioned here a few times on this site, hip-hop music is quite possibly the most calming element in my life. Usually after a long day slaving away over the coffee filters and copier toners, it’s sometimes nice to come back home and release some tension [||] to the serene sounds of “F.A.Y.B.A.N.”
But a (not so) funny thing happened to me when I returned back home from New York a few days ago. In perhaps the most disheartening thing that’s happened to me since I accidentally reset my iPod earlier this year, my flash drive – the same one that contains the past few years of journalistic work – died, leaving me to scramble around my one-room mansion looking for backup files (and thank God[dess] I had one). So needless to say, DJ Premier’s hard-hitting boom-bap wasn’t going to help my then-frayed nerves in that case.
In between finding my works and the normal shit I do to chill (like talking shit about your favorite rapper), I found myself playing a host of non-rap songs that eventually mellowed me out [1]. So, to get the readers here off to a somewhat relaxing weekend now that the NFL has returned (Philly Eagles, bitches!), I’d like to present a short list of said songs.
Amerie – In an earlier post, I mentioned how it doesn’t make any kind of sense how someone like Amerie – who’s not only prettier, but way more wifeable to boot – gets thrown in the music industry backburner (also known as the overseas market, where 100,000 copies gets you a platinum plaque in the UK of all things, while some Screech-sounding “artist” like Rihanna gets more shine. This rarely heard single (either found on Wendy William’s shitty “mixtape” or the UK edition of her second album) is yet another in a long list of Amerie’s knack of getting the best rap songs nobody raps over.
"Man Up!" featuring Nas (click here)
The Jeff Lorber Fusion – One of the things I enjoy doing is searching for the original songs sampled in rap. If I had the time (or the patience), I’d supply the masses here with my iPod playlist that’s well into the hundreds just for songs like this. If you don’t know what song used this shit I’m about to provide, please take two of deez and go play in traffic.
“Night Love” (click here)
Stevie Wonder – Do I really need to elaborate on why this guy is the G.O.A.T.? If this song doesn’t inspire you to find happiness in life, you’re probably a pink elephant Republican.
“Another Star” (click here)
Louis Jordan – As a youth, my first introduction to soul, jazz and bebop ironically came from cartoons whose production companies would play things like this to the glee of cracka-ass YTs some 50-plus years ago. So as I got older, I found the song below. Bonus points goes to whomever can tell me what cartoon this was on.
"Is You Is (Or Is You Ain't) My Baby?" (click here)
[1] As well as “acquiring” an album or ten.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
A Bucket Full Of Weenies
As recently as three years ago, I more or less gave three-eighths of a shit about my physical appearance as far as my sense of style was concerned, since being a broke, stressed-out college student, certain aspects were put on the backburner to take care of my priorities, like hoping the rent check cleared for the month, or making sure I sat next to the smart Asian student who was oblivious to see me looking at their test for the answer. So for the most part, I stuck to rocking shirts better suited for Ed “Too Tall” Jones and the finest of Burlington Coat Factory sweat pants all throughout my years.
Around the time I had gotten out of school, most of the general population had traded in their expensive, gaudy throwback jerseys, Burberry- print Air Force Ones and 5XL-sized pink tees for the supposed “grown man” look, which I guess was trying not to look fruity while rocking their father’s blazer over some Jnco jeans. I really never paid too much attention to it, but I did find it funny whenever I’d see a teenager wearing that shit in the dead of summer. Fortunately though, that shit somewhat died down, and it finally looked as if people had developed a fashion sense that wasn’t outrageously retarded.
Or so I thought. After a brief affair with pictures tees (you won't believe how much money I made making and selling those shits. Hell, I still have a few of them in my place if anybody wants one for free), today’s current look is a weird hybrid of skateboarder nerd, pseudo-broke hipster and emo-glam rock star. While I can say it’s kind of nice to see that some guys have realized that a “Big & Tall” set of pants when you’re roughly the size of a rake is plain silly, rocking their sister’s Capri pants, a smedium V-neck muscle shirt and a motorcycle chain leaves little to the imagination of what gender they prefer to tuck them in at night. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course...
Honestly, I’m actually a little elated that the styles of the 80s have made a recent resurgence, in a way of paying homage to the forefathers. And while I don’t see an issue with those who’ve looked like a 50s-era greaser like the Fonz their entire lives, it’s somewhat troubling to see so many cock-hoppers jump on the trend as if they do not have a mind of their own. Part of the growth process (I believe) involves developing your own unique look (which, sadly is nigh impossible nowadays). But simply jumping on the next man’s bozack because they look cool is just wrong.
But perhaps I’m looking into this too much. But I can’t help shake the feeling that if hip-hop continues to mimic the styles of a shitload of losers, who knows what long-term damage it may have. But I’m hoping that in the culture’s fickle mind state, this shit will change.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Dr. Dre, The New “Where’s Waldo?”
While I was in Brooklyn last week contemplating on when and how I should uproot myself from the land of palm trees and Sixties, perhaps the biggest “special press release advance” leaks of the year dropped: Curtis and Graduation. While I probably won’t get a chance to listen to these two “monumental” albums for a while, as I “acquired” five more albums alongside these, I do find it interesting that the hype behind them is bigger than any other rap album this year.
Although I did not bump them once the “transfer process” finished, I skimmed through them as I usually do all my ill-gotten gains. To be honest, neither of them had any songs that stood out in particular, what with Silk Shirts West’s beats becoming more vapid and predictable by the second and Curtsy being nothing more than a mush-mouthed faux-supervillian with rabbit teeth nowadays. Then again, I was only half-listening to them while I was catching up on the vast amounts of porn, nudie pictures and hentai [1] that had been unleashed throughout the Internets during my brief respite, but whatever.
In any case, the thing that did catch my interest was the soundscapes of Fiddy’s album, with many of them sounding like Dre productions. However, aside from one track (which happened to be one of the worst songs on the album) whose name I can’t think of, none of these shits were from the “good doctor,” which (to me, at least) gives off the impression that Dr. Dre really isn’t in control of his own label anymore, as one of my blogging brethren mentioned a while back.
Then again, it’s not like anybody shouldn’t see that though. In between tossing Grandpa Simpson a couple of stale throwaways (though I still enjoy “30 Something”) for his last fuck-up of an album, avoiding and ignoring his former protégé Game like a scorned ex-lover and treating legitimately talented acts like King Tee, Truth Hurts and Rakim as if they were some nappy-headed hoes, it’s not really hard to imagine that the guy who used to run around actually slapping up rough-looking broads against walls and whatnot has become nothing more than Curtsy’s latest yes man. In that sense, I wonder who’s more ahead in rank: Tony Yayo or Dre. My money’s on the guy who got owned by T.I. at this year’s BET Awards, but I digress.
With Dre giving less and less input in his stable’s acts, I actually wonder if Dre had any say in the shit in the start. But in his defense, he’s too busy trying to keep things together, what with Busta Rhymes going all cream & clear and slapping up actual homos who ask for his autograph and lying to the general public about Detox, Raekwon’s new album and other never-see-the-light-of-day albums, so maybe he’s content with getting a couple royalty dollars from Curtsy, so as to make him feel important. But it’s not like I trusted Dre anyways; whoever thought that the savior of West Coast music would be a guy who used to run around with a fake-ass Arabian prince looking like a dirty, black Scott Hamilton must have been out of their fucking mind in the first place.
[1] Donwill isn’t the only one that knows about that Japanese shit.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Dr. Dre, The New “Where’s Waldo?”
While I was in Brooklyn last week contemplating on when and how I should uproot myself from the land of palm trees and Sixties, perhaps the biggest “special press release advance” leaks of the year dropped: Curtis and Graduation. While I probably won’t get a chance to listen to these two “monumental” albums for a while, as I “acquired” five more albums alongside these, I do find it interesting that the hype behind them is bigger than any other rap album this year.
Although I did not bump them once the “transfer process” finished, I skimmed through them as I usually do all my ill-gotten gains. To be honest, neither of them had any songs that stood out in particular, what with Silk Shirts West’s beats becoming more vapid and predictable by the second and Curtsy being nothing more than a mush-mouthed faux-supervillian with rabbit teeth nowadays. Then again, I was only half-listening to them while I was catching up on the vast amounts of porn, nudie pictures and hentai [1] that had been unleashed throughout the Internets during my brief respite, but whatever.
In any case, the thing that did catch my interest was the soundscapes of Fiddy’s album, with many of them sounding like Dre productions. However, aside from one track (which happened to be one of the worst songs on the album) whose name I can’t think of, none of these shits were from the “good doctor,” which (to me, at least) gives off the impression that Dr. Dre really isn’t in control of his own label anymore, as one of my blogging brethren mentioned a while back.
Then again, it’s not like anybody shouldn’t see that though. In between tossing Grandpa Simpson a couple of stale throwaways (though I still enjoy “30 Something”) for his last fuck-up of an album, avoiding and ignoring his former protégé Game like a scorned ex-lover and treating legitimately talented acts like King Tee, Truth Hurts and Rakim as if they were some nappy-headed hoes, it’s not really hard to imagine that the guy who used to run around actually slapping up rough-looking broads against walls and whatnot has become nothing more than Curtsy’s latest yes man. In that sense, I wonder who’s more ahead in rank: Tony Yayo or Dre. My money’s on the guy who got owned by T.I. at this year’s BET Awards, but I digress.
With Dre giving less and less input in his stable’s acts, I actually wonder if Dre had any say in the shit in the start. But in his defense, he’s too busy trying to keep things together, what with Busta Rhymes going all cream & clear and slapping up actual homos who ask for his autograph and lying to the general public about Detox, Raekwon’s new album and other never-see-the-light-of-day albums, so maybe he’s content with getting a couple royalty dollars from Curtsy, so as to make him feel important. But it’s not like I trusted Dre anyways; whoever thought that the savior of West Coast music would be a guy who used to run around with a fake-ass Arabian prince looking like a dirty, black Scott Hamilton must have been out of their fucking mind in the first place.
[1] Donwill isn’t the only one that knows about that Japanese shit.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Why Barry Won’t Win
In one of my earliest posts here on this small section of the Internets, I briefly entertained the political affairs of the two major presidential frontrunners of the Democratic National Party – Hilary Rodham-Clinton and Barack Obama. Far be it for me to be the go-to pundit when it comes to such discussions – as I barely give a shit about them since I already know my vote is worth about as much as a Chihuahua in a Ron Mexico-sponsored kennel match, and thus will probably be too busy looking at porn to even bother voting - but I originally said that I’d vote for Barry off the strength that he used to snort coke back in the day and, of course, is half monkey (honky?).
Now that I think about it though, I may have jumped the gun too early on duke. While I’m probably better off explaining a Cover 2 defense than this shit, part of my reasoning behind that harebrained decision was influenced because of Barry’s backing by some of your favorite rappers. I highly doubt that receiving the blessings of Common and Talib Kweli means much, especially since the half-honky (hanky?) just isn’t a good candidate to begin with.
After reading about his inexperience and seeing him stumble in a few debates, it doesn’t take much to see that Barry is really not the ideal candidate, no matter how many rappers drop his name in their raps. Similarly, Hilary probably could run things better than Obama, as her rap sheet in New York would suggest, but I honestly don’t think she’d be too good a president also. Not to sound like a chauvinistic pig, as I don’t really care for a female president (or any president for that matter), but let’s face it people: we can’t possibly expect her to run an entire country without making decisions on certain issues she caught feelings for, not to mention she has a pink elephant’s chance in Hell of winning the damn thing to boot, what with there being a shitload of NO MA’AM members running wild in Congress. But I digress.
The main reason why I know Barry won’t win? His so-called affiliation with the hip-hop culture, which in reality is nothing more vapid as Oprah’s excuse for liking rap music because she plays “In The Club” every once in a while. But with everybody blaming hip-hop for damn near the death of Black Jesus, that same co-sign could lead to his downfall, because you know that his opponents will spin that shit in the worst way possible. And hip-hop has never been represented fairly in the public image anyways, punctuated by the likes of Cam’Ron and Damon Dash defending the shit on The O’Reilly Factor a few years ago (which has got to be the funniest moment in television ever). But, who knows; maybe he can pull that shit off. Bill Clinton did it, and he secretly hated the shit [1]. Word to Sister Souljah.
[1] I can't believe he tricked the Black public into thinking he loves them with that Aresnio Hall bullshit. Black people stay losing.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
New York Shit
Enjoy.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Jesus Turns 100
So in between loading up the printers at my job with paper and praying that I don’t get attacked by a zombie crackhead when I go home one faceless April day, I received an email from one of my esteemed overlords searching for writers for this fledgling section they’re creating on this section of the Internets. Needless to say, I replied back, and the rest, as you can say, is history.
Throughout the bigoted rants, racist banter, homophobic jibba jabba, snide comments and overall fucked-up shit I’ve spewed here, I’ve reached a plateau I thought I’d never attain, what with me assuming I’d get bored with writing (again), or I’d get cut loose for saying everything short of “Fuck Buddha!” in my posts. But here I am, a hundred blogs deep, and I’ve not gotten tired of this shit yet.
The main reason I’ve continued to write even during the most strenuous of times is due to the inspiration I derive from my fellow torchbearers here. So, to celebrate this particular occasion, I’d like to run down a shorthand list of said muses.
Andreas’ willingness to take a(nother) chance on me. Most of you don’t know that I started my journalism career here back in late 2004. Unfortunately, thanks to a combination of the pressures of entertainment politics (having to write shit to appease your advertising bottom line will fuck with your conscience) and the fact I’d been through six shitty jobs in eight months, I shut down and didn’t pick up a pen for two years. Oddly enough, despite the fact I hadn’t written anything in so long, I still received opportunities. Starting over from scratch is a tough road, but at least one person was dumb enough to stick with me for so long. And who knows: if it weren’t for Dre recharging the battery in my back, I probably wouldn't revel in the negative attention I receive in that little section below this shit.
J-23's infamous Reginald Dennis interview. The tipping point of DX. After reading this exposé, I made it a personal mission to shake J’s hand for this shit whenever I got the chance, and I was fortunate enough to do so three weeks ago at Rock The Bells.
Brillyance’s blunt honesty. In my opinion, this is the best columnist on this site. Mixing a philosophical sense on life with hip-hop ideals, Brills has the makings to be one of the best hip-hop writers today. Where the fuck are those Friday unheard artist posts, though?
Shake’s never-ending knowledge of music. If you think you know a lot about music, you’ve obviously never met the walking Wikipedia that is Shake. In the two days we hung out, he put me on to so many sounds that I actually felt like an idiot for not knowing them. Not to mention, duke has one of the flyest chicks in the game wearing his chain.
aliya's lesbian relationship with hip-hop. Honestly, if you haven’t read this piece, take two of deez and go play in traffic. It’s nice to know that there are women who are as passionate about the craft as their male counterparts. Speaking of which...
The fashion sensibilities of Soopa Starr and A.H.L.O.T. These gear innovators are part of the reason I’m trying to get the fuck out of the land of Chucks and khaki pants. Honestly, Los Angeles needs to step their game up, because a grown-ass man rocking a pair of Dickies and a conk all day hasn’t been dope since Snoop Dogg shot the shit out of his weed carrier 12 years ago and got away with it.
Donwill's Lessondary Radio show. This is basically the only radio show I’ll tune into. If more stations were like this one, we probably would have a lot more smarter, virgin teenagers today. Not to mention, I've been blasting "Ode To Tanya" for the better part of this year regularly.
J. Burnett’s humor. Opinions reminds me so much of me, it was easy to see why we got into it [||] earlier on. Apologies for not being able to help out on your Speaker Mag project, though; when you essentially work two jobs it’s hard to find time for it unfortunately.
William Ketchums’ hustle. While it’s glaringly obvious that Ketchums and I prefer to stay in our respective lanes, I will say that I do respect the man’s drive and grind. Besides, beefing with a co-worker of sorts can never be good for hip-hop in the first place.
If there’s anybody I forgot, know you that you have my props & respect regardless. DX is the past, present and the motherfucking future. Act accordingly.
***
I guess I should mention that this is my last post for the next couple days, as I’ll be taking a well-deserved break from reality in New York (oh my God (Danger!)) until Monday (hence, the unusually early post). If anyone out East is interested in getting insulted face-to-face by, building with and/or impregnated by me while I’m there, feel free to hit me on the email addy below my all-seeing eye.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Stop Skeemin’, And Lookin’ Hard
While I was marking my territory in the opinionated realm of the women’s movement last week (which I’ve come to realize as a moot point, since I could write a dissertation on why women are superior than men and have the shit shot down all because I have a pair of nuts at my waist), the most telltale response I noticed regarding men was that because they’re determined to the world how “independent” they are by yelling it out a window and such, those women believe that – in their own magically delicious world – the majority, if not all, men out there are nothing more than either lazy bumfucks who constantly knock women up then dip out come child support time, or fraudulent super thugs that push more weight than Kelly Price before the diet and get their rocks off slapping nappy-headed hoes through windows.
"I swear to God I'm going to pistol whip the next person that says ‘shenanigans’"...
I could go on and easily correlate that inane theory to the fact that any woman who honestly believes that is not only single, but also fucked up in the head and in dire need of a self-esteem boost, but then I’d probably just end up shitting on whatever dwindling attractiveness women have for me. And I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen.
It doesn’t take rocket science to realize how asinine and wrong this train of thought is. While it’s true that more women are “manning up” in the work and family forces, it’s somewhat depressing to see that the improvements and progressions of the male species are pushed aside almost to a point of irrelevance, which is wrong on a variety of levels. I think I can speak on behalf of the Adam’s Apple-having contingent that for every hard-working, strong-willed woman running around in this society, there is an equally proficient man who did not have to resort to drug sales and petty thug theatrics to become successful as well. I know I’ve never had to pop a cannon or sell some crack to get to where I am today (although there were those couple times I gave blood to pay for my college tuition, but I digress), and while I’m no big-shot executive (I can’t even run a triangle offense in NBA Live, for fuck’s sakes) I’ve done pretty well for myself.
But perhaps that misguided reasoning stems from the mental brainwashing men and women receive from today’s media. When I stayed home because of a cold a few weeks ago, I couldn’t help but notice the over-abundance of caricatures on the so-called channel for the Black people, BET, where either the average guy was a six-pack exposing, greased-up pretty boy with a waxed chest, or a muumuu-wearing, crack-dealing soldier with more chains around their neck than Kunta Kinte had in his prime. While it’s laughable to think that these images are an accurate depiction of today’s man, it also came to me that the CEO of Bojangles Entertainment Television is a woman. Knowing that this person is essentially in charge of all programming on the shitbag excuse of a network, it makes me believe that either she is a scorned old hag, not unlike Terry McMillan (boy is she pissed!), determined to make all men feel the wrath from her failures in finding the right man to stuff her monkey properly by primarily showing visuals that make guys look like fools, or an underwear-with-the-dickhole-wearing lesbian who wouldn’t know what a real man was if he plopped his junk on her forehead. For my future’s sake, I pray I’m wrong this time.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Stop Skeemin’, And Lookin’ Hard
While I was marking my territory in the opinionated realm of the women’s movement last week (which I’ve come to realize as a moot point, since I could write a dissertation on why women are superior than men and have the shit shot down all because I have a pair of nuts at my waist), the most telltale response I noticed regarding men was that because they’re determined to the world how “independent” they are by yelling it out a window and such, those women believe that – in their own magically delicious world – the majority, if not all, men out there are nothing more than either lazy bumfucks who constantly knock women up then dip out come child support time, or fraudulent super thugs that push more weight than Kelly Price before the diet and get their rocks off slapping nappy-headed hoes through windows.
"I swear to God I'm going to pistol whip the next person that says ‘shenanigans’"...
I could go on and easily correlate that inane theory to the fact that any woman who honestly believes that is not only single, but also fucked up in the head and in dire need of a self-esteem boost, but then I’d probably just end up shitting on whatever dwindling attractiveness women have for me. And I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen.
It doesn’t take rocket science to realize how asinine and wrong this train of thought is. While it’s true that more women are “manning up” in the work and family forces, it’s somewhat depressing to see that the improvements and progressions of the male species are pushed aside almost to a point of irrelevance, which is wrong on a variety of levels. I think I can speak on behalf of the Adam’s Apple-having contingent that for every hard-working, strong-willed woman running around in this society, there is an equally proficient man who did not have to resort to drug sales and petty thug theatrics to become successful as well. I know I’ve never had to pop a cannon or sell some crack to get to where I am today (although there were those couple times I gave blood to pay for my college tuition, but I digress), and while I’m no big-shot executive (I can’t even run a triangle offense in NBA Live, for fuck’s sakes) I’ve done pretty well for myself.
But perhaps that misguided reasoning stems from the mental brainwashing men and women receive from today’s media. When I stayed home because of a cold a few weeks ago, I couldn’t help but notice the over-abundance of caricatures on the so-called channel for the Black people, BET, where either the average guy was a six-pack exposing, greased-up pretty boy with a waxed chest, or a muumuu-wearing, crack-dealing soldier with more chains around their neck than Kunta Kinte had in his prime. While it’s laughable to think that these images are an accurate depiction of today’s man, it also came to me that the CEO of Bojangles Entertainment Television is a woman. Knowing that this person is essentially in charge of all programming on the shitbag excuse of a network, it makes me believe that either she is a scorned old hag, not unlike Terry McMillan (boy is she pissed!), determined to make all men feel the wrath from her failures in finding the right man to stuff her monkey properly by primarily showing visuals that make guys look like fools, or an underwear-with-the-dickhole-wearing lesbian who wouldn’t know what a real man was if he plopped his junk on her forehead. For my future’s sake, I pray I’m wrong this time.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Dog Fighting vs. Dove Hunting
With Michael Vick’s plea today, effectively ending his spectacular fall from grace, Mighty Casey hit me up to share his thoughts. And in my never-ending quest to change the world, I completely forgot about the racially charged situation of the Jena 6. If you haven’t hit up J. Burnett’s blog and done something about it, click the link below, sign the petition (which I did last week) and help stop the bullshit. Hip-Hop has more power than you think...
http://www.colorofchange.org/jena/
I know in previous blogs I’ve criticized our young Hip-hop generation and put us partially to blame for a lot of the media scrutiny we endure. I’ve never denied that the government is much worse than the state of hip-hop regardless of the crack selling coonery that masquerades itself as hip-hop, any negative influence it has on the country is minimal compared to the Iraq war and Bushes other policies that have incarcerated, undereducated and generally oppressed. This is not to justify hip-hop’s behavior I remember at time when Hip-hop would criticize the violence, materialism, and arrogance of the government rather than emulate it. Rappers like 50 Cent and TI have pointed their finger at the government when confronted on the negativity of their lyrics just as Don Imus pointed the finger at hip-hop when confronted on the negativity of his comments. Given the number of high profile young black males in the spotlight for negative activity, Michael Vick, Pacman Jones, Barry Bonds, every other rapper. One might think that White House Boy genius Karl Rove has used his power over the media to use young big scary looking black guys as scapegoats to distract the American public, never mind the millions dying in Iraq, black males in the USA are taking steroids, fighting dogs and we have good information from British intelligence that they are…making it rain.
Which brings me to Bushes brain Mr. Rove himself. While still controlling the Republican Party he has unfortunately retired from the Bush administration. Up 1st on his agenda after leaving office, apologizing for the war? Nope dedicating life to public service? Nope. Dove Hunting. Not a misprint. Those innocent white birds that are meant to be a symbol for peace, the bird Noah sent off the ark to find land, the bird Ozzy Osbourne bid the head off, Karl Rove kills them for fun. Ironically enough the same day that it was revealed the MC Rove enjoys smoking nice white doves for his enjoyment Michael Vick was indicted for dog fighting. While Michael Vick has caused a media maelstrom with his tangential association to dog fighting, Karl Rove is free to kill little innocent peace loving Doves without even a murmur from the media. Never mind the irony and symbolism of the architect for the Iraq war killing the international symbol of peace for fun, like a James Bond villain, how can Karl Rove get away with killing innocent animals with a gun, while Vick can’t enjoy two dogs who would fight regardless maul each other. Maybe because of the strong history of manly American men killing animals like Bambi’s mother. Then again how manly is it to kill a Dove? If Rove really wants to be manly he should try and hunt Vicks pitbulls. That would put a little pressure on him to actually hit them 1st cuz if you miss when you shoot a pitbull your pretty ass out. Maybe if Rove wanted to hunt and feel manly he should do NYC a service and hunt all the rats in the subway, no one likes rats I’m sure PETA wouldn’t even fuck with him. Speaking of PETA how come they aren’t picketing outside Karl Rove’s house? Its cool to kill doves but watching dogs fight oh god no. Its amazes me that people actually protested Michael Vick as if humans aren’t dying for no reason everyday and not even entertaining anyone. Where do they cross the line will they picket outside my house cuz I stomped a roach or 2 (or 3 or 4), will they subpoena my computer because I YouTubed "lion attacks" a couple times.
If we can watch humans beat each other into a bloody pulp on UFC and the occasional good boxing match, why can’t we watch pitbulls fight? Its not like they wouldn’t be fighting if we weren’t there. Maybe if we’d allowed more pitbulls to fight each other, they wouldn’t be out killing 2-year-old girls and Ving Rhames' gardener. Its funny how the media tries to play pitbulls as a black, hip-hop thing. I’m sure pitbulls were originally bred by white people to keep black people off their property, now that black people have them they want to take away our fun. The fact that Vick allegedly bred pitbulls is no worse than the rich white people who breed poodles, and all sorts of other weird looking dogs for their personal decorations. Maybe it’s the warrior in me but if I were a dog, I’d rather die fighting living as one of Michael Vick’s pits, than suffer the humiliation of living as Paris Hilton’s little decorative poodles.
If the media would scrutinize the government the same way they scrutinize young black males (both in sports and music) maybe they might’ve been able to stop this shitstorm of a policy we call the Iraq wars. Maybe assholes like George Bush, Dick Cheney and Karl Rove would actually have to face some accountability, if the media as Barry Bonds, Michael Vick and Snoop Dog as closely covered them. , Maybe the American public would realize what evil, dishonest greedy dove killers these so called freedom loving Christians actually are. Where mainstream media outlets like Fox news have made it their niche to criticize black athletes and rappers, their corporate funded blind eye to the various Bush administration scandals, like Katrina, Abu Ghraib, Valerie Plame, shows a high level of media hypocrisy. I think in order for us to progress, people who know about Hip-hop and are a part of the Hip-hop community should be criticizing what’s wrong with amongst ourselves, and the media which is supposed to enlighten people to what’s going on in the world, should be letting the world know what’s going on specifically what assholes our leaders are and how they fucked up the world, and leave Lil Wayne and Michael Vick to Hip Hop DX and ESPN. I know a lot of the white house scandals aren’t as simple as Hip-hop’s drug, guns and sex crimes (nice), I think we have one now these motherfuckers kill DOVES people DOVES. You can’t get anymore clear-cut than that; these people kill peace-loving animals for enjoyment.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Mixtapes > Albums
So, dig this: I'm taking a sort-of backseat for the next two days, as a couple of my brethren wanted to share their thoughts with you all. Kicking things off is the proprietor of the best blog you humps should be adding to your bookmarks, Dah Shyt's own Belize...
Aside from a list I made previously, I have never properly introduced myself to you. The name I go by is Belize (a), proudly representing the immaculate country I was raised in. I am quite humble to be able to post on not only HipHopDx, but especially Meka’s section – gotta respect his grind. So before I proceed I wanna send a short kite to any blogger, commenter or anybody else that has given me any form of respect in the past - respect is given back homie.
Ok, now that I got that out of the way, I want to pre-warn you that this post may be a lil long - but smoke with me and follow my lead (no Boo-Boo).
When I state that mixtapes > albums, I am not saying that I won’t purchase a CD, shyyyyyt, I’m bout to go buy that new UGK right now (b). What I’m saying is that the substance and importance in Hip Hop music has been lost and now CD’s are not a source for food right now. You see, the industry has changed so much that many people forget that adapting to your environment is a necessary tactic. Before MP3’s were able to be sent via the internet, most artists were able to show their skills through mixtapes, but their ability to make an album was usually evaluated through an EP (c). With the spark of the digital age, many artists turned to mixtapes, especially after many witnessed how Fifty was able to use it to his advantage. Now presently, yes there is an over saturation of mixtapes, but if you isolate the average “mixtape” that contains a conglomerate of underground and mainstream artists, you will see that the freedom in hip hop is now seen in artist developed mixtapes.
One of the first arguments I get from people is: “I’ve heard that beat before.” Ummm…so? If an artist is able recreate a piece of work and make it into something better (d), then does that not make you appreciate their craft? If they do it for no profit, that should make you love Hip-Hop.
The second argument I get is production. Ok I understand, but learn to pick mixtapes. If you got a mixtape from an unnamed/unsigned artist, of course its not gonna be the best quality- that why their trying to get signed! Advance money is for you to create the best product possible (under a budget), not for you to show the world how to ball. Do you want to be the next Cap-One? Didn’t think so. If you want quality mixtapes, look at the DJ and the Artist. If its DJ ImGonnaBlow, his “best of” tape is probably hosted by the artist; however if it’s a Green Lantern, Clinton Sparks, etc...etc.., chances are that they don’t want to be seen in the realm of bad production (e). Basically, be a smart shopper.
A downside to albums, for me, is the lack of creativity. Many artists do not have the freedom to say or develop a song the they want to, after all it’s a job, and if your employer wants you to do something required in your job (in this case, selling cd’s), making a corny song may be the only way to keep food on your baby’s plate. Unfortunately, I am not a sucker. Days of me buying a CD based on singles, are over- I am going back to “word of mouth“ (nhjic). If you go buy something and you’re getting less than your value every time – what do you do? You scratch that spot off your list. Going back to the store to get hustled is not cool – its called being a crackhead – and nobody wants your cheeseburgers. On the flip side, on the mixtape scene you can be as political (f), gangsta (g), or you can just teach these company’s how to run their shyt (h). Sometimes it’s the only album we get(i).
Now before I head out and let Mek get back to what he does best, I want to say that if you see an unknown artist’s mixtape – don’t ignore it. Usually they are free and just a hungry artist trying to survive in a game that can appear to be a maze. You never know you may find a gem, just imagine if nobody picked up Infinity by Eminem. (j)
(a) I didn’t not chose the name, if that is your first perception, but since us Belizeans are rare to find in any state other that MIA, NYC, LA and TX, my friends could never remember any other name but the place I rep. Contrary to popular belief I am not ignorant, I just smoke a lot.
(b) And I think that’s it this year unless I get that new Wu…I don’t trust you artists no more.
(c) While I’m on that subject... remember those singles in the stores that you would buy before the CD? Yup, those are ring tones.
(d) Better lyrics, better hook, better delivery. Nuff said.
(e) Some of them are trying to be producers themselves.
(f) Imagine if Immortal Technique didn’t have mixtapes?
(g) Imagine if Children Of the Corn never had a mixtape?
(h) Rap Phenomenon 1 > Any BIG posthumous CD.
(i) R.I.P. Stack Bundles, BIG L.
(j) Remember, Mixtapes are the new EP’s
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.