*no thinking cap required

No shots. Not even warning shots. Just saying...


Hip Hop, rap music more specifically, is mad mundane nowadays. That statement alone is one of the reasons Raekwon's 'OB4CL2' & Slaughterhouse's self-titled albums were so well received by the critical public at large. Also, this is why they didn't sell an ass load of albums, either. More on that later...


The Hip Hop fan has grown accustomed to a certain formula. Brainwashed, perhaps. We've graduated from accepting a mediocre beat, if the lyrics were hot (the '90s) to accepting a bland mixture of okay rhymes & so-so tracks (the '00s) to now, the end of 2000's first decade, & rap music is boring as fuck, for the most part. Sans a handful of artists who genuinely craft witty raps without a bunch of unnecessary violence &/or fantasy lifestyle, & it's the same song, over & over again. It's common knowledge that to be a successful rap guy, your chains, your guns, your cars, & your ability to get bitches ranks higher than your song crafting skills. If we get nothing else, that we get. Multiply that complete lack of originality by some trunk-thumpage that the hood rats & socialites alike can shake their tail fur at, & best believe, somebody somewhere will play your shit, loudly & often, however uninspiring it may be.


"Rewindability" is virtually non-existent at present, unless we're talking about DOOM, Slaughterhouse (as a collective), U-God & Ghostface Killa. Ghostface, not so much because he astounds with the verbiage, but because I don't smoke dust blunts. & even with some rewinding, most dudes still have no idea what the hell he's talking about, unless it's his dick. Pause. If I did smoke the leaf that dare not speak it's name though, something tells me he'd be the illest MC ever to grab the mic. I guess Eminem earned a spot in that group as well, but unlike most rap fanatics, I'm willing to admit that somewhere along his audio journey, Marshall Mathers hit me in the brain with so much awesomeness that I'm now hard pressed to be in awe at the majority of his current masterpieces. His genius has leveled off into normalcy, so to speak. He's more Kobe, less Lebron, if you smell my cologne. Once "greatness" has ascended to such an unattainable altitude, we come to expect nothing less than the best. Which, oddly enough, is detrimental to a degree. I guess that's why you don't mack a female with unmitigated A+ game in the first few months. God forbid you two fall in love, & you used all the heavy artillery just to score some trim. When she gets bored, you can't blame anyone but yourself.


Of course there's more than just who's on my preemptive list, but I'm only attempting to scratch the proverbial surface, not take roll call. This is literally a conversation that could last days, & thousands of words, which neither I nor your attention span is willing to commit to.


Now, you have some artists who by all means have the propensity be great, but operate under such a self-defeating agenda that they refuse to let their own light shine. Lupe Fiasco comes to mind, but he's so much smarter than the rest of us that maybe all this is part of a plan, & his plan is coming together like 2 lesbians on a double-edged deluxe gyrating vibrator. Ha! Kid Cudi is cut from that same cloth, also. In a strange turn of events, his quasi-depressing, melancholy approach at Hip Hop music has become his way of life, knocking cats the eff out & getting thrown off of ridiculously lucrative tours all in the name of anti-love. Toss in a Charles Hamilton, & not only do we see the dark side of "the Force" that Kanye West exposed to the world, but also the reason gangsta rap is on life support. Emo-thuggery is running rampant. Skinny jeans may not be able to conceal weapons, but man-bags & Louis Vuitton backpacks can carry guns, as well as plaid ascots & cashmere mittens.


I, for one, miss the days where I almost had to concentrate on rap music to enjoy it. As of late, it's more like having public conversations with some of my terribly less intelligent homeboys, over loud-ass 808 kicks that only muffle their ignorant jaw-jacking, but unfortunately not quite enough to drown them out entirely. There's no imagination, no drive, no real competitive spirit, outside of viral campaigns, tasteless personal attacks, & episodes of 'Candid Camera', with *insert your favorite rapper* doing his best Alan Funt impersonation. Hip Hop has allowed itself to go from two young, amped up tough guys smoking weed & intensely playing Chess, to two lethargic older cats drinking cheap cognac over a game of Checkers, in between nods & space-out moments. Even when they pick up a piece (no pun intended), everyone knows their next move. It's no wonder people get bored & stop watching them play.


Before the hoopla starts, I'm not one of those golden age veterans, who rubs miscellaneous bottles in hopes that I can wish us back to 1992. Hell, in 1992, I was still a virgin, so, yeah. But, I do wish that more effort would be put into making today's rap a sport again. Not a contact sport, because niggas don't fight any more, but a battle of wits, war of words, per se. Legend has it that, in their hey day, MC Ren & Ice Cube would sit in the studio & write against each other, for the same song. Whoever won that impromptu challenge, won the right to pen Eazy-E's verse, in addition to their own. Or, picture Michael Jackson & Paul McCartney working on 'The Girl Is Mine'. Cats may not hit the bowling alley for beer pretzels & White chicks after the studio session, but best believe they pushed one another to do their best, even if their best was only second place. I'll take second place over last any day of the Christian week.


There seems to be a growing surge of rappers who embrace the basic ethos that separates entertainers from MC's. That's a good look for the culture, plus it's not like folks are running out to drop hard hustled recession dollars on physical albums anyway, even when the record is a genuinely good buy. Ask Raekwon & Slaughterhouse. Might as well give the people what they need, because what they want isn't always what's best for them. Like prostitute sex, regardless how good she looks, she's still a hooker, & we know you can do better than that, mayne.

Talk Is (Not) Cheap

Some douche nozzle rap dude named Brisco (who?) got robbed a few days ago. He was at a "local" barbershop, somewhere in Florida, when 4 masked men rushed into the establishment, fired a few rounds & relieved him of roughly $40,000 worth of cash & jewelry, & took the keys to his leased Range Rover after (supposedly) pistol whipping him. No more than 2 days later, the rapper releases a song aimed at the criminals, saying that there's now a bounty on them for acts committed.

Fucking idiot.

First of all, the guys had him in the ultimate position of submission (i.e. at gunpoint), & for all intents & purposes could've bodied him right there, just off the strength of green-eyed monsters & hatred. So, how does he pay them back for ONLY taking some material possessions & not his life or his manhood? By threatening their lives, in a "song" for the whole world to hear. After the police were notified, that is. So, not only will his threats fall on the ears of these random, obviously blood thirsty jackals who he probably can't identify in a police line-up, but if something necessarily negative were to happen to the goons, he'll be the first one the authorities contact.

Not to say one should ever be appreciative for being robbed, but I've been robbed before. At gunpoint. I was grateful that the nigga didn't get all LAPD on me. If (& when) ever I find myself at the business end of a handgun, & happen to survive the ordeal, pride is the only thing that stops me from telling the dude "Good lookin' out on not cappin' me, bro". What Brisco did is the equivalent of "na-nanny-na-naa", with a twist of "watch ya back, bitches!". Silly me, I stopped teasing bullies when they graduated to felonious activity.

Fucking idiot.

[tony's note: slick rick NEVER got robbed. just saying.]

In the same vein, rapper Joe Budden has been beefing with quite a few dudes this year. Yeah, you may not have heard of this rapper either. His last foray into the "beef" department was with a more legendary MC named Method Man. Sans the underwhelming details of the root cause of conflict, they had choice words over the last couple of months. At which point, members of Meth's entourage (Wu Tang Clan) decided they'd had enough of this guy disrespecting their brother. Now, here's the tricky part....

The confusion between Joe & Meth was supposedly quelled 2 weeks ago, at a concert series known as "Rock The Bells". Although by now, several other Wu-affiliates had taken up residence on Joe's back. But, after the truce was declared, Joe Budden pulled one of those sneak disses; second cousin to the Backhanded Compliment. Something to the effect of, "& the next nigga who say something, I won't be so nice".

Funny how some dudes just refuse to leave well enough alone.

This weekend (Saturday, August 8), at an extension of the same RTB venue, Joe's words finally caught up with him. Raekwon, one of Method's group members, who entered the "beef" to assist him, had a guy, who knew a guy, who brought a guy to the concert, & said guy punched Budden's in the face. Live on the 'Nets, for all who saw to see. What will come of this, who knows. But, I doubt it will escalate too much more. In most cases, a swift jab to the side of the head clears up any misconceptions. Word to Joe Budden. Then again, these rap cats avail themselves to such a distorted view of reality, anything's possible. I predict the Youtube/WorldStarHipHop onslaught is beginning as you read this.

Now, I don't bite my tongue too often because it hurts, so I can empathize wholeheartedly, but at some point, silence is just the wisest option. & not to sound like a bitter, anti-climactic antagonist, but what is it about being a rapper that makes one assume that every life-situation is a cock-measuring contest? If Brisco so happens to be discovered in some swamp with a bullet hole in his temple & his silk Versace boxers stuffed into his mouth, society will blame Hip Hop. Not the dumb decision making of one peacock, but the entire movement will be (once again) thrown under the (tour) bus. Same with Joe. If he allows his ego to return fire on whoever he deems opposition, again, Hip Hop will be the reason for the violence. As opposed to blaming the overgrown crybaby, who some dude(s) finally decided deserved his proverbial spanking. Nothing says 'you're talking too much' like being blindsided with a haymaker.

"Mouth almighty, tongue everlastin', Ya ain't satisfied until somethin' happens...." - (c) Whodini, "Big Mouth"