http://www.datpiff.com/ICONOGRAPHIC_RECORDS_TONY_GRANDS_Grandzilla.m72617.html
I started rapping when I was 13. Doing little shows, making karaoke demos, & finally recording material at a legitimate studio-rapping, as opposed to freestyling with random dream chasers or writing songs instead of doing homework. I come from a generation where the ability to rap was a skill, & whatever was crafted was art. With me, never once was it a money making scheme, a "get rich or die trying" crusade, per se, but a love for words & an affinity for rhythm. It made perfect sense, too, because I've never been that good at basketball, & my nuts weren't big enough to sell drugs.
That link up top is to an album my nigga Esquire (the producer) & I recorded about 5 years ago. Please, download it & enjoy, if you haven't already. If there's something you like, great. Burn a copy for your friends. Use it as a soundtrack to a YouTube video. Or toss it in the trash bin, & accept my apologies for wasting precious time & hard drive space. I couldn't care less. Point is, getting paid for my "art" was never a part of the plan. Very similar to my writing. These things I do out of love, & if others are able to find pleasure it what I do, thats fan-fucking-tastic..
Rappers these days aren't born. There manufactured. Somewhere there's an assembly line, & a couple of times a year, the newest model of audio hustler is unveiled, & unleashed to the public, under the guise of representing an art form, a culture. No dice. These niggas are in it solely for the possibility of getting paid. No more, no less. It's a tad bit sad, depending on your vantage point.
Anybody who remotely follows the music business is fully aware of the crack pipe dreams it offers. The entertainment industry as a whole, for that matter. It's not a real job, so to speak, & while it's is possible to live off of talent, assuming you have said talent, nowadays people with such goals are adamant on becoming uber-mega-superstars, who use $50 bills as toilet tissue & eat seafood 7 days a week. That's an unrealistic minority. The majority is a somber group of people who lack the skill, knowledge &/or "it" factor to stand out, in a crowd of hundreds of thousands. & the 'Net just leveled the playing field, so good luck on your career choice.
I'm not gonna name drop specific artists who I think may be responsible for the less than noble state of Hip Hop music, but I'll blame man's fervent thirst for monetarily compensated under-achievement. & that way, the umbrella covers all parties involved. Money changes things. Fact. Once the flood gates opened on rap music being a somewhat lucrative business, with the opportunity for quick, profitable turnaround, anybody with at least a 3rd grade level of comprehension & access to a recording device decided to dive into the music game, feet first. Once that happened, the art, natural skill & prowess folks once took great pride in, was replaced by greed, gluttony, & an assload of luck. & again, the 'Net just leveled the playing field, so good luck with your career choice.
Saying that everybody wants to be a rapper is an understatement. Here I was wanting to share a "gift" with the world. Coincidentally I learned, quite some time ago, that I'm not built for such a egregious, erroneous, ass backwards, self-serving, cock sucker line of work. I tip my hat to those who have the gumption to stick it out, really though. They know who they are, & so do their fans. I'm sure if I have the opportunity to get back in the studio, I'll jump. But again, my love of words & affinity for rhythm would be the driving force. Not money, or my lack thereof.
I used to take my son to the studio with me. In fact, he's on a couple of songs I did. Albeit as a baby, but even still. Now, instead of saying "Daddy, I'm gonna be a rapper," he's says things like, "I wanna own my own store. I wanna be an astronaut. I wanna be a scientist. Then I can be the president or something, too, huh Daddy?"
Indeed...
Showing posts with label unusual suspects. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unusual suspects. Show all posts
Friday, January 29, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Barack Obama: Deeper than Politics
I'm not much for polit(r)ic(k)s. I get in, obtain the necessary info, then get my ass out of the way. Politicians sling hella mud & mad shit, & fuck getting my shirt stained with rhetoric, propaganda, & empty promises. No dice. I'd rather do what I can, & watch the rest of these lobbyists, opportunists, & agitators make mountains out of mole hills. Not to say that unemployment, the national deficit, & the state of America in general should by any means be reduced to mole hills, but you smell my cologne. We, the people, vote for our president (to an extent-I'm aware of the electoral college), but once he's in office, there's not a whole helluva lot we can do about his choices. Thats why we elect a specific dude, as opposed to having some village democracy, where we're either all in compliance, or burn those who aren't at the stake.
Sure, President Obama hasn't been the perfect president. I think anybody that's not Jesus Christ would fall short of that expectation. But, that's a drop for another day. I'm starting to believe that American's love to love something, just because that way, they're guaranteed to have something to hate later on down the road. I also think that's the dynamic of an abusive relationship. See what I did there?
But, I digress.
There's a pretty good chance that the majority of Obama's work won't get noticed, or acted upon, until after his term has come & gone. I'm cool with that, though. "Running" a "powerful" country can't be as easy as George W. Bush made it appear, with vacations & made-up words & what have you. But, at least he's setting the wheels in motion, really though. There has to be a first Black president to open the doors & windows of America, & humanity alike, in order for non-traditional candidates of the future to ever have a chance at a possible candidacy.
Obama's promise/premise, before he was elected, was "Change we can believe in." I'm not sure even he realized the deep double-meaning of that simple phrase. He may not change the national debt, or the ban on gay marriage, or the status quo of nationwide happiness, but what he did change, immediately after inauguration, was what it meant to be a Black man in America, especially through the eyes of young, Black Americans. Think about it.
For all the novelty attached, being the first Black anything is a big deal. But, the first Black president is the biggest of deals (even if he's just a figurehead, he's THE figurehead...). Media coverage, the proverbial free world at his feet-so to speak, accolades & accomplishments that would be considered great regardless of the overachiever's pigmentation. He just so happens to be Black (African-American). At a juncture where athletes & musicians are idolized & martyr'd, here came a man who, by hard work & determination, literally changed the game. Not the basketball game, or the rap game, but the game of life, & how far it's limitations can actually be pushed. When I was a kid, the only young people who said, with any seriousness, "When I grow up, I wanna be the president!" were nerds & social outcasts whose parents forced them to learn to play piano in between chess club meetings. The problem wasn't their ambition, or inhibition, but the fact that such a dream was just that-a dream, of MLK proportions. & unless you live on Elm Street, dreams & realities can not co-exist. Until...
Little Black children worldwide look up to Barack Obama in ways they don't even understand yet. A child's aspirations have no governor, except for their own imagination. But when said imagination can be shifted to real-time achievement, it's like taking the red pill in the Matrix. An entire generation of babies has been unplugged, simultaneously, whether or not Universal Healthcare gets passed into effect. Whereas Dr. King has been more or less relegated to a life to be memorialized, & a holiday to be enjoyed, Barack Obama is the now. Right now. Turn on your TV & somebody, somewhere, is talking to, about, or for him. & the kids see this. They see a Black man without boundaries, without a microphone or a basketball, & this becomes their attainable, achievable reality.
To the willing recipient, the "change" comes in the form of pride. A pride that can't be provided by an NBA championship, #1 hit record or blockbuster movie role. A pride that made grandmothers cry in happy disbelief, & grown people here & there pick up their jaws, as they, WE, witnessed history being made. Grown-ups are so quick to get caught up in the odds, ends & implications of matters at hand, that we often lose sight of the bigger picture. Thank God children are the future. Now, their future seems a little bit brighter.
I thank you for that, President Barack Obama.
Sure, President Obama hasn't been the perfect president. I think anybody that's not Jesus Christ would fall short of that expectation. But, that's a drop for another day. I'm starting to believe that American's love to love something, just because that way, they're guaranteed to have something to hate later on down the road. I also think that's the dynamic of an abusive relationship. See what I did there?
But, I digress.
There's a pretty good chance that the majority of Obama's work won't get noticed, or acted upon, until after his term has come & gone. I'm cool with that, though. "Running" a "powerful" country can't be as easy as George W. Bush made it appear, with vacations & made-up words & what have you. But, at least he's setting the wheels in motion, really though. There has to be a first Black president to open the doors & windows of America, & humanity alike, in order for non-traditional candidates of the future to ever have a chance at a possible candidacy.
Obama's promise/premise, before he was elected, was "Change we can believe in." I'm not sure even he realized the deep double-meaning of that simple phrase. He may not change the national debt, or the ban on gay marriage, or the status quo of nationwide happiness, but what he did change, immediately after inauguration, was what it meant to be a Black man in America, especially through the eyes of young, Black Americans. Think about it.
For all the novelty attached, being the first Black anything is a big deal. But, the first Black president is the biggest of deals (even if he's just a figurehead, he's THE figurehead...). Media coverage, the proverbial free world at his feet-so to speak, accolades & accomplishments that would be considered great regardless of the overachiever's pigmentation. He just so happens to be Black (African-American). At a juncture where athletes & musicians are idolized & martyr'd, here came a man who, by hard work & determination, literally changed the game. Not the basketball game, or the rap game, but the game of life, & how far it's limitations can actually be pushed. When I was a kid, the only young people who said, with any seriousness, "When I grow up, I wanna be the president!" were nerds & social outcasts whose parents forced them to learn to play piano in between chess club meetings. The problem wasn't their ambition, or inhibition, but the fact that such a dream was just that-a dream, of MLK proportions. & unless you live on Elm Street, dreams & realities can not co-exist. Until...
Little Black children worldwide look up to Barack Obama in ways they don't even understand yet. A child's aspirations have no governor, except for their own imagination. But when said imagination can be shifted to real-time achievement, it's like taking the red pill in the Matrix. An entire generation of babies has been unplugged, simultaneously, whether or not Universal Healthcare gets passed into effect. Whereas Dr. King has been more or less relegated to a life to be memorialized, & a holiday to be enjoyed, Barack Obama is the now. Right now. Turn on your TV & somebody, somewhere, is talking to, about, or for him. & the kids see this. They see a Black man without boundaries, without a microphone or a basketball, & this becomes their attainable, achievable reality.
To the willing recipient, the "change" comes in the form of pride. A pride that can't be provided by an NBA championship, #1 hit record or blockbuster movie role. A pride that made grandmothers cry in happy disbelief, & grown people here & there pick up their jaws, as they, WE, witnessed history being made. Grown-ups are so quick to get caught up in the odds, ends & implications of matters at hand, that we often lose sight of the bigger picture. Thank God children are the future. Now, their future seems a little bit brighter.
I thank you for that, President Barack Obama.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Snickers vs. Twix
One of the main things I miss from my alcoholic days are the conversations I had with my fellow bottle huggers. Birds of a feather & what not. To a room full of sober people, a drunk dude is just rambling about pseudo-metaphysical aspects of life that equate to ambient jibber jabber. But, a gaggle of booze hounds, espousing about the wonders of the world, is a think tank unlike any other. How many things do you think were invented by some drunk ass guys just pontificating about nothing in particular. Like aluminum foil. That has "sloshed" written all over it. & the vacuum cleaner. You can't tell me liquor played no part in somebody thinking, "well, how 'bout we just suck it up?"
I'd always said I was going to videotape one of our clubhouse meetings, but then I'd get drunk & forget. The closest I've gotten to those caliber conversations post-addiction was in the breakroom at rehab. Really though, shit got hella heavy sometimes. Had the free coffee been caffeinated, it may have turned bloody once or twice.
Back to my couch.
Although debates over Halo or NBA Live were enthralling, all it took was for a chick to walk past the house, or even appear on the TV, & that became the day's topic of choice. Mainly, what's better, a skinny broad & a thickums? Again, drunkards tend to think outside the box, so needless to say, these exchanges often lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Or until my wife got home. Whichever came first.
Personally, I prefer a lady of the healthier persuasion. I've always equated girth with womanhood. Child bearing hips, ample, succulent breasts, a little arm fat, thighs that give the jeans something to hold on to, all scream "adult female." With a skinny chick, I'm always taken back to the days of elementary school, when the male/female physical attributes were about even. Pointy elbows, bird chests, flat asses, etc. Of course there was always the girl or two who'd developed early, but that anomaly was looked at as more freakshow, than freak show, if you smell my cologne. I believe women are works of art, regardless to specifications. But, when I see chicks who appear to have missed a meal, before I can admire their femininity, I have to get past the urge to offer them a cheese burger. Or a peanut butter sandwich. Where as, a skinny girl looks like she could use a meal, I know for a fact that not only will a thickums not go hungry, but she'll feed my yellow ass in the process. To my heart through my stomach, indeed.
When I say "skinny", I don't mean model anorexic. That's not skinny. Thats morbidly malnutritioned. Ain't shit natural about a woman weighing 97 lbs, unless she's 11 years old or Vietnamese. No shots. That's an eating disorder, or a disease waiting to put you in the earth, & either way, I'm not into bag ladies (word to Erykah Badu). I mean skinny, like "one-too-many-trips-to-the-gym-in-one-week" thin, which is not realistic in today's society of stress, fast food & busy lifestyles. Not being curvaceous & voluptuous doesn't take away from one's feminism, per se, it just doesn't appeal to me. & I consider myself an average joe.
It could be because of my family. The only skinny female relatives I have are that way because of drug addiction (pain pills & alcohol included). I grew up around the type of women who cooked, all the time. & if you appeared to be losing weight, before any of them would inquire about your health or sober status, they tried shoving a pot of gumbo & half a fried chicken down your gullet. I'll be the first to admit that this wasn't the healthiest situation, but what could I tell them that their diabetes medication hasn't already? I grew up under the impression that it was "normal" for a woman to have some meat on her bones, thus, that's what I've always been attracted to. I've even bypassed adorable skinny chicks in my days of chubby chasing, & knew exactly what I was doing.
& don't get me started on sex. That's kinda a no-brainer. Sure, I like a good Karma Sutra marathon like the next heterosexual male, but slim jim bonin' versus chubby lovin' might be one of the few times in life where it's quantity over quality. Cushion for the pushin', so to speak; the more of it, the merrier. I'm not an expert on skinny girl sex, but I'm pretty sure that a semi-exposed rib cage or spine protrusion wouldn't help my erection very much. But a cup that slightly runneth over? 'Nuff said.
Usually, by the end of our Snickers vs. Twix debates, it was a 50/50 split as to who preferred what. Which is probably the outcome in the real world as well. But I'll tell you what; the only season of 'America's Top Model' I ever watched was the one when Toccara won, & I think I voted for Jordan Sparks on 'American Idol', so, yeah.
I'd always said I was going to videotape one of our clubhouse meetings, but then I'd get drunk & forget. The closest I've gotten to those caliber conversations post-addiction was in the breakroom at rehab. Really though, shit got hella heavy sometimes. Had the free coffee been caffeinated, it may have turned bloody once or twice.
Back to my couch.
Although debates over Halo or NBA Live were enthralling, all it took was for a chick to walk past the house, or even appear on the TV, & that became the day's topic of choice. Mainly, what's better, a skinny broad & a thickums? Again, drunkards tend to think outside the box, so needless to say, these exchanges often lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Or until my wife got home. Whichever came first.
Personally, I prefer a lady of the healthier persuasion. I've always equated girth with womanhood. Child bearing hips, ample, succulent breasts, a little arm fat, thighs that give the jeans something to hold on to, all scream "adult female." With a skinny chick, I'm always taken back to the days of elementary school, when the male/female physical attributes were about even. Pointy elbows, bird chests, flat asses, etc. Of course there was always the girl or two who'd developed early, but that anomaly was looked at as more freakshow, than freak show, if you smell my cologne. I believe women are works of art, regardless to specifications. But, when I see chicks who appear to have missed a meal, before I can admire their femininity, I have to get past the urge to offer them a cheese burger. Or a peanut butter sandwich. Where as, a skinny girl looks like she could use a meal, I know for a fact that not only will a thickums not go hungry, but she'll feed my yellow ass in the process. To my heart through my stomach, indeed.
When I say "skinny", I don't mean model anorexic. That's not skinny. Thats morbidly malnutritioned. Ain't shit natural about a woman weighing 97 lbs, unless she's 11 years old or Vietnamese. No shots. That's an eating disorder, or a disease waiting to put you in the earth, & either way, I'm not into bag ladies (word to Erykah Badu). I mean skinny, like "one-too-many-trips-to-the-gym-in-one-week" thin, which is not realistic in today's society of stress, fast food & busy lifestyles. Not being curvaceous & voluptuous doesn't take away from one's feminism, per se, it just doesn't appeal to me. & I consider myself an average joe.
It could be because of my family. The only skinny female relatives I have are that way because of drug addiction (pain pills & alcohol included). I grew up around the type of women who cooked, all the time. & if you appeared to be losing weight, before any of them would inquire about your health or sober status, they tried shoving a pot of gumbo & half a fried chicken down your gullet. I'll be the first to admit that this wasn't the healthiest situation, but what could I tell them that their diabetes medication hasn't already? I grew up under the impression that it was "normal" for a woman to have some meat on her bones, thus, that's what I've always been attracted to. I've even bypassed adorable skinny chicks in my days of chubby chasing, & knew exactly what I was doing.
& don't get me started on sex. That's kinda a no-brainer. Sure, I like a good Karma Sutra marathon like the next heterosexual male, but slim jim bonin' versus chubby lovin' might be one of the few times in life where it's quantity over quality. Cushion for the pushin', so to speak; the more of it, the merrier. I'm not an expert on skinny girl sex, but I'm pretty sure that a semi-exposed rib cage or spine protrusion wouldn't help my erection very much. But a cup that slightly runneth over? 'Nuff said.
Usually, by the end of our Snickers vs. Twix debates, it was a 50/50 split as to who preferred what. Which is probably the outcome in the real world as well. But I'll tell you what; the only season of 'America's Top Model' I ever watched was the one when Toccara won, & I think I voted for Jordan Sparks on 'American Idol', so, yeah.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Trina: Baby Momma Drama
"With the current state that Haiti is in right now; I personally feel like donating monetary and physical possessions is a enormous and vast donation...however I would like to contribute on a higher level for more personal reasons in addition to being ready to raise/nurture a child; by being involved on a day to day bases. The tragic and untimely list of events that have happen in Haiti even before the recent earthquake have made me realize how blessed I am as a individual and I want to share that with a child...in addition to adding on to my immediate family circle. I am in the financial position to adopt; therefore I am taking it into deep consideration at this time, I have always admired other individuals for adopting children not so much for their celebrity status but more so because of the 'nurturing' and invaluable change and joy it will bring to a child’s life. Lastly the fact that I am considering adopting a child from Haiti is even more significant to me seeing that a great deal of adopted children that come into the United States are from larger countries such as China, Russia and Africa. I also have family members that are of Haitian descent." - rapper Trina, via HipHopDX
What a tool. Perhaps the entertainment industry has an annual award for pretentious assholes that the public at large isn't aware of. Of course, us average joe's wouldn't get a memo about the elite attempting to one-up each other in terms of being a douche nozzle. Seems Trina's getting a leg up on the competition early. No pun intended. Well, maybe a little.
This is the mentality that chicken heads nationwide have, that just because they're alive & capable of buying a Happy Meal, they'll be an asset to some unfortunate kid's meager existence. No dice. Parenting takes more than an "I think I can" attitude & a bejeweled purse full of strip club dough. She's probably one of those "god parents" that takes that arbitrary title way too seriously. Pictures of her god kids in her wallet & what not. Rap music & fiscal success aside, Trina feels as though she has what it takes to be somebody's mother, all of the sudden, & it only took an earthquake that killed 200,000 people, in another country, for her to realize that. Are there no needy children in America that would love to have a mother? This would appear to be a clear-cut case of stepping over the homeless people outside of your building on the way to help the one's in front of a camera, even if it's all the way across town. Self sacrifice is the Holy Grail of face time. Maybe the life of a Z-list rapstress is too full of blunt smoke & bbq's for her to have noticed any of those commercials about kids who need love, followed by a phone number to a local foster care facility. Hell, I don't doubt that she's spent time in the foster system; she just reeks of needing to be "loved."
Even beyond the posturing it takes to publicly announce that you plan to adopt a child from such a desolate place, there's a certain douche bag tenacity in opting to grab a child & run, versus trying to help the country as a whole. Assuming one can afford to do such a thing. I'm sure there's dozens of people who have big money, & chose to give a sizeable amount to the Red Cross, without saying a word about it to anyone. Trina, on the other hand, is treating the news coverage as a brochure, or a catalog, as if bringing a Haitian kid back to Florida with her is going to help ease the pain & suffering of millions of people. She probably wants a cookie, too. I say this not to demean Trina's efforts at making a difference, but at the very least, this isn't the type of statement you make to the world. Hip Hop or otherwise. If she feels that their catastrophe was a maternal catalyst, cool. Do what you gotta do, sis. But don't start stroking your nuts & rehearsing your acceptance speech for "Humanitarian of the Year" just yet. I'd much rather see you exposing the itty-bitty's & complaining about what a nigga can't do for you instead. For the amount(s) of money she claims to have, she could adopt an entire neighborhood over there, personally funding it's regrowth & rehabilitation. You want to impress me, aside from form-fitting skivvies & shirts that look like bras, then adopt some adults, who are undoubtedly in just as bad a predictament as the kids. Haiti is in epic need of help, fiscally, physically, spiritually, politically & beyond, so pardon me if I don't call you Mother Theresa for picking a child to love, then flying back to your mansion.
I wouldn't call this a publicity stunt, as much as I would say it's just a bad decision. At the least, one of her weed carriers should've been the one being interviewed, then it wouldn't appear so self-serving & shallow. This type of information always comes across more passionately when conveyed by a third party. No matter how sexy one may look in spanx & pasties, patting yourself on the back is some jerk shit. Don't talk about it, be about it, so to speak.
I figured that Haiti's misfortune would bring the vultures down from the trees, but not even my cynicism would've expected this type of nigganometry. Not even from the chick who had people saying "nann nigga" for an entire summer. She has an album due out soon, called 'Amazin'. Coincidence? You be the judge.
What a tool. Perhaps the entertainment industry has an annual award for pretentious assholes that the public at large isn't aware of. Of course, us average joe's wouldn't get a memo about the elite attempting to one-up each other in terms of being a douche nozzle. Seems Trina's getting a leg up on the competition early. No pun intended. Well, maybe a little.
This is the mentality that chicken heads nationwide have, that just because they're alive & capable of buying a Happy Meal, they'll be an asset to some unfortunate kid's meager existence. No dice. Parenting takes more than an "I think I can" attitude & a bejeweled purse full of strip club dough. She's probably one of those "god parents" that takes that arbitrary title way too seriously. Pictures of her god kids in her wallet & what not. Rap music & fiscal success aside, Trina feels as though she has what it takes to be somebody's mother, all of the sudden, & it only took an earthquake that killed 200,000 people, in another country, for her to realize that. Are there no needy children in America that would love to have a mother? This would appear to be a clear-cut case of stepping over the homeless people outside of your building on the way to help the one's in front of a camera, even if it's all the way across town. Self sacrifice is the Holy Grail of face time. Maybe the life of a Z-list rapstress is too full of blunt smoke & bbq's for her to have noticed any of those commercials about kids who need love, followed by a phone number to a local foster care facility. Hell, I don't doubt that she's spent time in the foster system; she just reeks of needing to be "loved."
Even beyond the posturing it takes to publicly announce that you plan to adopt a child from such a desolate place, there's a certain douche bag tenacity in opting to grab a child & run, versus trying to help the country as a whole. Assuming one can afford to do such a thing. I'm sure there's dozens of people who have big money, & chose to give a sizeable amount to the Red Cross, without saying a word about it to anyone. Trina, on the other hand, is treating the news coverage as a brochure, or a catalog, as if bringing a Haitian kid back to Florida with her is going to help ease the pain & suffering of millions of people. She probably wants a cookie, too. I say this not to demean Trina's efforts at making a difference, but at the very least, this isn't the type of statement you make to the world. Hip Hop or otherwise. If she feels that their catastrophe was a maternal catalyst, cool. Do what you gotta do, sis. But don't start stroking your nuts & rehearsing your acceptance speech for "Humanitarian of the Year" just yet. I'd much rather see you exposing the itty-bitty's & complaining about what a nigga can't do for you instead. For the amount(s) of money she claims to have, she could adopt an entire neighborhood over there, personally funding it's regrowth & rehabilitation. You want to impress me, aside from form-fitting skivvies & shirts that look like bras, then adopt some adults, who are undoubtedly in just as bad a predictament as the kids. Haiti is in epic need of help, fiscally, physically, spiritually, politically & beyond, so pardon me if I don't call you Mother Theresa for picking a child to love, then flying back to your mansion.
I wouldn't call this a publicity stunt, as much as I would say it's just a bad decision. At the least, one of her weed carriers should've been the one being interviewed, then it wouldn't appear so self-serving & shallow. This type of information always comes across more passionately when conveyed by a third party. No matter how sexy one may look in spanx & pasties, patting yourself on the back is some jerk shit. Don't talk about it, be about it, so to speak.
I figured that Haiti's misfortune would bring the vultures down from the trees, but not even my cynicism would've expected this type of nigganometry. Not even from the chick who had people saying "nann nigga" for an entire summer. She has an album due out soon, called 'Amazin'. Coincidence? You be the judge.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
T.I. should meet my uncle.
Can you imagine how many rappers wish they were in T.I.'s position right now?
No shots, but Mystikal, Mr. "Shake It Fast," served a little over 5 years for some unsavory business etiquette towards a female member of his entourage. As successful as he was pre-"Bitch betta have my money (or else swallow throat lotion!)," dude comes home to little fanfare whatsoever. The few fans who were excited about his return, are lost in the message boards of articles & blog drops about his release. Lost, as in a "Mystikal's back!" is met by 25 commentors calling him a criminal, & throwing around words like "extortion," & "rapist." I'm not a judge, so I don't condemn. I just hoped he learned something, aside from how to live with nothing but men for years at a time. Point being, many people don't even know he's home. Of those they do know, most don't really care. His ship has long since sailed unfortunately, & not even the great Percy Miller himself can undo that. Shit, P can't even keep his own brother out of jail, so good luck with him relaunching a rap career that's long been dead in the water. "Watch yaself," indeed. It'll be interesting to see if Mystikal jumps into the viral ring, or fades into absolute obscurity. How much you wanna bet that he's set on putting 'The NEW, New No Limit' back on the map. No dice. & I don't think it's so much that we, the fans & heads & afficianados, turn our backs on artists during trial & tribulation, so much as it's just that niggas have better shit to do. Any man who believes life will stop for him is a fool doomed to failure by his own stagnation. I'm almost positive he wishes he was in T.I.'s position.
Again, no shots, but Prodigy of Mobb Deep, is in a curious situation. Mind you, I'm a Hip Hop Head from the early 80's, & still, if I had to name a rapper who I could quote verse for verse, song by song, it would be Prodigy, before NaS, or even Redman. There was a period in my life where I had a BIG ASS poster of 'The Infamous' album cover on my wall, over my bed. No homo. Call me a stan, but I'd prefer you call me a Tony (ha!). Sorry, that was corny. A lot of people may not know that P has sickle cell anemia, a blood disease that affects people of color, that can cause death. The girl I lost my virginity to had it. That shit is no joke. It almost seems unbelievable. I know all to well how it can affect a person. Yet & still, this nigga wants to be a thug. Carrying guns, fighting people, going back & forth to jail, where he sits now, as what remains of his music career sits in limbo. Not to mention, the apex of his career came & went while he was still free, so now what? Dude's gotta be at least 30-something by now. The number of people who probably don't even know who he is greatly outweighs the amount of people who anxiously wait for his release. Saddest part is that 50 Cent (Whaddup MDub!!) seems to be his only remaining tie to rap music at this point. Good luck with that, P. I put him in a category I call "When Keepin It Real Goes Right," because apparently these dudes want this life. Mistakes are one thing, but repetition is insanity. I'm pretty sure he wishes he was in T.I. position.
Which all brings me to my point about T.I.'s position. As a rapper, boundaries are set as to what you can or can't do, lest you be wished into the cornfield by the public at large. The nay-say is loud & plentiful, but the truth is that T.I. is arguably the most successful rap dude of 2009. Success, in terms of popularity, record sales & media attention. Dude held a press conference last year. Now, I don't remember what it was about, but what rap nigga does that? & wasn't the police chief or somebody there with him? This guy got a television show, based around a crime that he only served about 8 months for. If that's not "success" in some variation or another, feel free to correct me. Unlike most young, Black felons, he has the chance to come home, & make a difference, especially on a worldwide scale. The same difference he made when he began his arbitrary reality show, which to me, was a pretty good idea. Who would you take sound, sage advice from; your grandfather, or some nigga who lives a life you wish you did? Just saying.
I'm not one to recalibrate another one's moral compass, but it would be nice to have a high-profile celebrity bring some positive energy to a culture that seeks instant gratification, yet ignores any repercussion. The listening world knows all about what T.I. has done to harm his impending society, so why not be an asset, in the public eye, to reverse the detriment? I always say society loves a rehabilitated convict with a story to tell. That trumps a "feel-good movie" any day of the week. Now's his chance to be a role model, at a time when we really don't have any left. Again, just saying.
I have an uncle, who served 7 years on federal drug charges. Dude got home early last year. When I was growing up, this cat was rich. Literally. In a White people way. He moved from Compton & Firestone to Rancho Cucamunga, & had unnecessary luxuries as far as the eye could see. I loved going over there, looking for shit to steal, even though he would've given it to me if I asked. Dude was so heavy in the street that every time I rode with him, we got pulled over. Here I am, a kid, being treated like a man because my uncle's a known drug dealer. Everybody knows a hustler, or the neighborhood dope man, but this cat was far removed from all that. With all sincerity, 'Scarface' was very, very similar to his life story, except the ending. Anyway, he came over yesterday to pick up some mail. In his work truck. He drives for some meat-packing [||] company, delivering dead animals to businesses for food consumption. A humbling job, to say the least. To the multitude of kids he has (yes, MULTITUDE), he's a hard working cat, trying to provide the best way he can. Only his oldest daughter is of an age where she could slightly recall when this guy was ridiculously paid. Albeit by poisoning the community, but paid nonetheless. All the others know is that daddy's finally out of jail. Point being, he touched down with the intention of doing the right thing(s), by his kids, if nobody else. That's the least he can do. It's imperative that the kids see that, especially with the stories of their father they undoubtedly have heard about. You know kids stay eavesdropping. One of the first things he did when he got out was to check on me, hearing about my run-in with death via alcohol. He had some very wise advice, too. It was obvious he'd thought long & hard about the life he lived, & for all the evil he'd exposed me to, as a kid, he was know shedding much needed positive light on me, as a man. That's that real shit, fuck the fake.
It would be nice if T.I. employed that same attitude for the thousands, upon thousands of young folks who look up to him. He's blessed with the opportunity to help, from the inside out, & us positive Black men could sure use the manpower, really though.
No shots, but Mystikal, Mr. "Shake It Fast," served a little over 5 years for some unsavory business etiquette towards a female member of his entourage. As successful as he was pre-"Bitch betta have my money (or else swallow throat lotion!)," dude comes home to little fanfare whatsoever. The few fans who were excited about his return, are lost in the message boards of articles & blog drops about his release. Lost, as in a "Mystikal's back!" is met by 25 commentors calling him a criminal, & throwing around words like "extortion," & "rapist." I'm not a judge, so I don't condemn. I just hoped he learned something, aside from how to live with nothing but men for years at a time. Point being, many people don't even know he's home. Of those they do know, most don't really care. His ship has long since sailed unfortunately, & not even the great Percy Miller himself can undo that. Shit, P can't even keep his own brother out of jail, so good luck with him relaunching a rap career that's long been dead in the water. "Watch yaself," indeed. It'll be interesting to see if Mystikal jumps into the viral ring, or fades into absolute obscurity. How much you wanna bet that he's set on putting 'The NEW, New No Limit' back on the map. No dice. & I don't think it's so much that we, the fans & heads & afficianados, turn our backs on artists during trial & tribulation, so much as it's just that niggas have better shit to do. Any man who believes life will stop for him is a fool doomed to failure by his own stagnation. I'm almost positive he wishes he was in T.I.'s position.
Again, no shots, but Prodigy of Mobb Deep, is in a curious situation. Mind you, I'm a Hip Hop Head from the early 80's, & still, if I had to name a rapper who I could quote verse for verse, song by song, it would be Prodigy, before NaS, or even Redman. There was a period in my life where I had a BIG ASS poster of 'The Infamous' album cover on my wall, over my bed. No homo. Call me a stan, but I'd prefer you call me a Tony (ha!). Sorry, that was corny. A lot of people may not know that P has sickle cell anemia, a blood disease that affects people of color, that can cause death. The girl I lost my virginity to had it. That shit is no joke. It almost seems unbelievable. I know all to well how it can affect a person. Yet & still, this nigga wants to be a thug. Carrying guns, fighting people, going back & forth to jail, where he sits now, as what remains of his music career sits in limbo. Not to mention, the apex of his career came & went while he was still free, so now what? Dude's gotta be at least 30-something by now. The number of people who probably don't even know who he is greatly outweighs the amount of people who anxiously wait for his release. Saddest part is that 50 Cent (Whaddup MDub!!) seems to be his only remaining tie to rap music at this point. Good luck with that, P. I put him in a category I call "When Keepin It Real Goes Right," because apparently these dudes want this life. Mistakes are one thing, but repetition is insanity. I'm pretty sure he wishes he was in T.I. position.
Which all brings me to my point about T.I.'s position. As a rapper, boundaries are set as to what you can or can't do, lest you be wished into the cornfield by the public at large. The nay-say is loud & plentiful, but the truth is that T.I. is arguably the most successful rap dude of 2009. Success, in terms of popularity, record sales & media attention. Dude held a press conference last year. Now, I don't remember what it was about, but what rap nigga does that? & wasn't the police chief or somebody there with him? This guy got a television show, based around a crime that he only served about 8 months for. If that's not "success" in some variation or another, feel free to correct me. Unlike most young, Black felons, he has the chance to come home, & make a difference, especially on a worldwide scale. The same difference he made when he began his arbitrary reality show, which to me, was a pretty good idea. Who would you take sound, sage advice from; your grandfather, or some nigga who lives a life you wish you did? Just saying.
I'm not one to recalibrate another one's moral compass, but it would be nice to have a high-profile celebrity bring some positive energy to a culture that seeks instant gratification, yet ignores any repercussion. The listening world knows all about what T.I. has done to harm his impending society, so why not be an asset, in the public eye, to reverse the detriment? I always say society loves a rehabilitated convict with a story to tell. That trumps a "feel-good movie" any day of the week. Now's his chance to be a role model, at a time when we really don't have any left. Again, just saying.
I have an uncle, who served 7 years on federal drug charges. Dude got home early last year. When I was growing up, this cat was rich. Literally. In a White people way. He moved from Compton & Firestone to Rancho Cucamunga, & had unnecessary luxuries as far as the eye could see. I loved going over there, looking for shit to steal, even though he would've given it to me if I asked. Dude was so heavy in the street that every time I rode with him, we got pulled over. Here I am, a kid, being treated like a man because my uncle's a known drug dealer. Everybody knows a hustler, or the neighborhood dope man, but this cat was far removed from all that. With all sincerity, 'Scarface' was very, very similar to his life story, except the ending. Anyway, he came over yesterday to pick up some mail. In his work truck. He drives for some meat-packing [||] company, delivering dead animals to businesses for food consumption. A humbling job, to say the least. To the multitude of kids he has (yes, MULTITUDE), he's a hard working cat, trying to provide the best way he can. Only his oldest daughter is of an age where she could slightly recall when this guy was ridiculously paid. Albeit by poisoning the community, but paid nonetheless. All the others know is that daddy's finally out of jail. Point being, he touched down with the intention of doing the right thing(s), by his kids, if nobody else. That's the least he can do. It's imperative that the kids see that, especially with the stories of their father they undoubtedly have heard about. You know kids stay eavesdropping. One of the first things he did when he got out was to check on me, hearing about my run-in with death via alcohol. He had some very wise advice, too. It was obvious he'd thought long & hard about the life he lived, & for all the evil he'd exposed me to, as a kid, he was know shedding much needed positive light on me, as a man. That's that real shit, fuck the fake.
It would be nice if T.I. employed that same attitude for the thousands, upon thousands of young folks who look up to him. He's blessed with the opportunity to help, from the inside out, & us positive Black men could sure use the manpower, really though.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Rain
Ugh.
It's raining in Los Angeles. I hate the fucking rain.
Fuck that, "It washes away our sins," bullshit. Jesus' blood did that for me. Worst thing about the rain is the darkness. The confinement. Unless, one happens to like being damp & wet for no reason. I like specific parts of my body wet, for the intended purpose(s). Yes hetero.
The rain has me thinking about something. Haiti. Man, those folks really got screwed. First the political axis of the entire country got kicked & beat to death. Next poverty & famine got comfortable, no thanks to America & Europe. Then this earthquake shook them up terribly so, in which case they weren't even prepared for a mild shaker, much less something about the size of the quake that leveled a healthy portion of Northridge, California when I was younger. Now, disease, despair, death, renegades & vigilantes, politics, destruction.
After they pull through this, which they will, nobody will be able to take their resilience away from them. The moral determination one needs to forge ahead, through such gloom, is the defining line between man & animal. Life & death. I pray for them fervently, but I wish I could do more.
I was watching footage on the news, & thought to myself, "what can I possibly complain about?" Although we all have circumstances that demand our attention, how bad can they be, compared what the Haitians are going through? Unfortunately, it takes someone else's misery to make us appreciate our own. Well, kudos life. Mission accomplished. I saw footage this morning taken inside of an orphanage as the quake hit. Not only were these children living a life rife with variables, but to complicate that, their literal lives were now being turned asunder, in real time, while I watched. Needless to say, I didn't fuss at my little man today for not finishing his Frosted Flakes. I did, however, talk to him about the importance of appreciation, & how life is never really yours to begin with, like money.
A friend & I were talking about the similarities between Haiti & Hurricane Katrina. I said the only real comparable aspect is the unexpectancy of it all. Sure, people can always do more, but by the time that realization is formed, it's usually too late. Which seems to be the schedule of life. No matter how informed we are, there's no such thing as "totally prepared." It didn't help matters any that Haiti has no building codes, which sucks, but not as much as how the country has been treated over the last couple hundred years in general. Haiti's history, which I've learned about extensively over the last week or so, thanks to Dallas Penn & Combat Jack, is an awesome remainder that sometimes in life, you get the shit kicked out of you, only to stand up & get kicked, again. & again. For the most part, there's no legitimate reason that life won't continue to piss in your scrambled eggs, daily, until you die. If that doesn't happen, & by the grace of God you find yourself somewhat happy on this planet, be thankful. Some motherfuckers never experience that.
Come to think of it, I'm complaining about rain, while people walk past corpses. Kinda mate's my whole reason for writing this. Or maybe I just needed to write.
It's raining in Los Angeles. I hate the fucking rain.
Fuck that, "It washes away our sins," bullshit. Jesus' blood did that for me. Worst thing about the rain is the darkness. The confinement. Unless, one happens to like being damp & wet for no reason. I like specific parts of my body wet, for the intended purpose(s). Yes hetero.
The rain has me thinking about something. Haiti. Man, those folks really got screwed. First the political axis of the entire country got kicked & beat to death. Next poverty & famine got comfortable, no thanks to America & Europe. Then this earthquake shook them up terribly so, in which case they weren't even prepared for a mild shaker, much less something about the size of the quake that leveled a healthy portion of Northridge, California when I was younger. Now, disease, despair, death, renegades & vigilantes, politics, destruction.
After they pull through this, which they will, nobody will be able to take their resilience away from them. The moral determination one needs to forge ahead, through such gloom, is the defining line between man & animal. Life & death. I pray for them fervently, but I wish I could do more.
I was watching footage on the news, & thought to myself, "what can I possibly complain about?" Although we all have circumstances that demand our attention, how bad can they be, compared what the Haitians are going through? Unfortunately, it takes someone else's misery to make us appreciate our own. Well, kudos life. Mission accomplished. I saw footage this morning taken inside of an orphanage as the quake hit. Not only were these children living a life rife with variables, but to complicate that, their literal lives were now being turned asunder, in real time, while I watched. Needless to say, I didn't fuss at my little man today for not finishing his Frosted Flakes. I did, however, talk to him about the importance of appreciation, & how life is never really yours to begin with, like money.
A friend & I were talking about the similarities between Haiti & Hurricane Katrina. I said the only real comparable aspect is the unexpectancy of it all. Sure, people can always do more, but by the time that realization is formed, it's usually too late. Which seems to be the schedule of life. No matter how informed we are, there's no such thing as "totally prepared." It didn't help matters any that Haiti has no building codes, which sucks, but not as much as how the country has been treated over the last couple hundred years in general. Haiti's history, which I've learned about extensively over the last week or so, thanks to Dallas Penn & Combat Jack, is an awesome remainder that sometimes in life, you get the shit kicked out of you, only to stand up & get kicked, again. & again. For the most part, there's no legitimate reason that life won't continue to piss in your scrambled eggs, daily, until you die. If that doesn't happen, & by the grace of God you find yourself somewhat happy on this planet, be thankful. Some motherfuckers never experience that.
Come to think of it, I'm complaining about rain, while people walk past corpses. Kinda mate's my whole reason for writing this. Or maybe I just needed to write.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Hip Hop...It's Deeper Than Rap.
The argument can be made that all rap is Hip Hop. For all the hate tossed at Gucci Mane for being flawlessly coontastic & an atrocity to the culture, dude is Hip Hop. Many times I've found myself cringing at his comic strip shenanigans, & wondering why people like him. He's fun, that's why. & for the most part, he's harmless, aside from killing a man & leaving his body in the swamp, but that's a post for another day. Point being, Hip Hop is a culture, immersed in self expression, however one sees fit. No matter how horrible the fans think the music is, or how insulting the personality of the artist, all rappers are Hip Hop. Fact. The more entertaining, the better. Generally speaking, name you favorite rap cat & then the one you despise. That's your personal Hip Hop alpha & omega. First to last, & all things between, it's Hip Hop from beginning to end.
Rap, simply put, is a form of music. Yes, even when it's done to the tune of nursery rhymes & simple simon sing-alongs. Hip Hop is the culture that rap was born from. Along with DJing, break dancing, & graffiti writing. Throughout the years, other elements have been thrown into the mix, such as knowledge & fashion, but the general foundation remains. Hip Hop is a way of life. You're either Hip Hop, or you're not. It's the way you walk into a room. The way you wear your hair. The things you teach your kids. The movies you memorize. I know dudes who are the epitome of the lifestyle, & couldn't ride a rhythm if it had Mariah Carey's hind quarters.
Hip Hop culture is an experience. Rap is the soundtrack to it's movement.
Another questionable aspect is the belief that this somewhat new, hybrid of rap & r&b, such as T-Pain, Chris Brown-any act that's obviously a bastard seed of 90's rhythm & bullshit era, isn't Hip Hop. No dice. By the basic parameters that something is judged Hip Hop or not, that form of music is indeed as Hip Hop as skinny jeans, Insane Clown Posse, & Tanya Morgan. Hell, Tracy Morgan for that matter, even though he doesn't rap. Word to Grizz & Dot Com. Fun-loving expression, is just that, even when it's based around the demise of 13 year old girls. Not that I condone that type of thing, I'm just trying to put it in perspective. Sure, I wouldn't want Trey Songz teaching my daughter about the birds & the bees, but if it wasn't for R. Kelly, I might not've lost my virginity mid-day, ditching the only college course I had. & fuck whatcha heard, getting 'tang is Hip Hop, really though...
There's a lot of people with the misconception that because a certain style of Rap isn't suited for them, that it's not Hip Hop. Until we dispel that notion, we can't move forward. Forward, as in, striving for the betterment of a movement that's presently being raped & pillaged by tv commercials, mocked on YouTube as some sort of experimental novelty act, & treated like urban noise, instead of the tribal communication it began as. We can't appreciate Talib Kweli, if we don't recognize the importance of Souljah Boy. Like it or not.
Not to get more philosophical than necessary, but Hip Hop is the soul, & rap is the life, if you understand what I'm saying. There's indeed a difference between the two. Shout out to the homie Rob, who put the bug in my ear.
Rap, simply put, is a form of music. Yes, even when it's done to the tune of nursery rhymes & simple simon sing-alongs. Hip Hop is the culture that rap was born from. Along with DJing, break dancing, & graffiti writing. Throughout the years, other elements have been thrown into the mix, such as knowledge & fashion, but the general foundation remains. Hip Hop is a way of life. You're either Hip Hop, or you're not. It's the way you walk into a room. The way you wear your hair. The things you teach your kids. The movies you memorize. I know dudes who are the epitome of the lifestyle, & couldn't ride a rhythm if it had Mariah Carey's hind quarters.
Hip Hop culture is an experience. Rap is the soundtrack to it's movement.
Another questionable aspect is the belief that this somewhat new, hybrid of rap & r&b, such as T-Pain, Chris Brown-any act that's obviously a bastard seed of 90's rhythm & bullshit era, isn't Hip Hop. No dice. By the basic parameters that something is judged Hip Hop or not, that form of music is indeed as Hip Hop as skinny jeans, Insane Clown Posse, & Tanya Morgan. Hell, Tracy Morgan for that matter, even though he doesn't rap. Word to Grizz & Dot Com. Fun-loving expression, is just that, even when it's based around the demise of 13 year old girls. Not that I condone that type of thing, I'm just trying to put it in perspective. Sure, I wouldn't want Trey Songz teaching my daughter about the birds & the bees, but if it wasn't for R. Kelly, I might not've lost my virginity mid-day, ditching the only college course I had. & fuck whatcha heard, getting 'tang is Hip Hop, really though...
There's a lot of people with the misconception that because a certain style of Rap isn't suited for them, that it's not Hip Hop. Until we dispel that notion, we can't move forward. Forward, as in, striving for the betterment of a movement that's presently being raped & pillaged by tv commercials, mocked on YouTube as some sort of experimental novelty act, & treated like urban noise, instead of the tribal communication it began as. We can't appreciate Talib Kweli, if we don't recognize the importance of Souljah Boy. Like it or not.
Not to get more philosophical than necessary, but Hip Hop is the soul, & rap is the life, if you understand what I'm saying. There's indeed a difference between the two. Shout out to the homie Rob, who put the bug in my ear.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Brains>Brain
Sometimes, you just have to envy the downtrodden. Mo' money, mo' problems, indeed. I imagine life is easiest when you're biggest worry is if you're going to eat later that day. Really though, worst case scenario, you could stand outside of a McDonalds, & look extremely pitiful, & some empathetic douche would buy you a McGriddle, or a McDouble, depending on what time it is. Either way, hunger knows no caloric intake. Tell a hungry man about his cholesterol, & he'll ask you if you're going to finish all of your fries. I make it a habit to give to the less fortunate, however I can. I save my aluminum cans for this homeless lady who trolls the neighborhood garbage cans, I buy this one dude a couple of burgers when I see him near my sons school, hell, if you need .35, & ask correctly, I may give you an entire dollar bill. Fuck what you plan to "really" do with it, as long as I know my heart is in the right place. That's why I try & feed somebody, as opposed to giving them cash. I'll be damned if a crackhead is going to smoke a .99 burrito. & if he does, God bless his lungs & throat lining. Point is, of all the people I come into contact with on a daily basis, the ones without much are usually the happiest. It may just be famine-induced hysteria, or a lack of nutrients has them unable to do much more than smile & nod, but they sure as hell seem content to me. Content beats contrite everyday of the Christian calendar.
As for these guys with assloads of dough, pause, their lives seem to be hell on wheels, floating in gasoline & nitroglycerin. One would assume that, given the opportunity to live life by one's own jurisdiction, that person would be diligent in finding peace & happiness. If a homeless man can do it, sleeping on a bus stop & eating what I throw away, surely it can be done if a man has the means to provide comfortably for himself. Now, I'm not pointing fingers, but I'm going to use two great examples. This has nothing to do with race, or profession. Any similarities are purely coincidental.
Shaquille O'Neal & Eldrick "Tiger" Woods. For all intents & purposes, these niggas are dumber than Katt Williams. For all the smarts that Eldrick seems to exude, he must not have ever read a book, watched a movie, or listened to a rap song. Otherwise, he'd know how counterproductive the wrong women can be. Especially when there's throngs of them, stroking your proverbial ball sack (pron: ego) to their benefit. I'm sure it's just the fact that guys who play Golf appear smarter than common folk, but I'm just saying. The more I watch, the more I see drunken hillbillies swinging sticks. As for Shaq, anything stupid he does, I just chalk up to him not being the curliest fry in the combo meal, per se. Dude may look like a dolphin, but by no means is he as smart as one. I know plenty dudes who play basketball for their respective schools, & not one of them is a math whiz. Or english, science or history for that matter, but again, just saying.
[tony's note: dolphins are mad smart, really though. flipper would kick lassie's ass...]
It's common knowledge that rich guys like toys. Side women, or jump-offs, are no different than a shiny new car or a ginormous television, or what have you. In a lot of cases, the toys can be detrimental. A motorcycle can kill you. A car can kill you. A woman can suck you dry-no pun intended, & drag your name through the mud like a plow mule. When cats get toys, especially real nice ones, they tend to neglect the important things. Now, in the case of inanimate objects, that don't mind the times when you walk away, that's not an issue. But, real-life, silicon/botox filled people? That becomes disastrous on several levels. What begins with wifey asking where you been, quickly becomes fancy plaything asking where are you going, & before you know it, Gloria Allred has you in the figure-four, sodomizing your bank account. Maybe it's my inner-poor person speaking, but that seems like an absolute bummer.
I rarely feel sorry for rich people, even when they're handicapped, but there's always a soft spot in my heart for a fool. When foolish behavior borders on absolute ignorance though, no dice. Even I know when to turn off the video games, & tend to my better half. I actually mean video games, that's not a euphemism.
Money can buy you brain, but it can't buy you brains...
As for these guys with assloads of dough, pause, their lives seem to be hell on wheels, floating in gasoline & nitroglycerin. One would assume that, given the opportunity to live life by one's own jurisdiction, that person would be diligent in finding peace & happiness. If a homeless man can do it, sleeping on a bus stop & eating what I throw away, surely it can be done if a man has the means to provide comfortably for himself. Now, I'm not pointing fingers, but I'm going to use two great examples. This has nothing to do with race, or profession. Any similarities are purely coincidental.
Shaquille O'Neal & Eldrick "Tiger" Woods. For all intents & purposes, these niggas are dumber than Katt Williams. For all the smarts that Eldrick seems to exude, he must not have ever read a book, watched a movie, or listened to a rap song. Otherwise, he'd know how counterproductive the wrong women can be. Especially when there's throngs of them, stroking your proverbial ball sack (pron: ego) to their benefit. I'm sure it's just the fact that guys who play Golf appear smarter than common folk, but I'm just saying. The more I watch, the more I see drunken hillbillies swinging sticks. As for Shaq, anything stupid he does, I just chalk up to him not being the curliest fry in the combo meal, per se. Dude may look like a dolphin, but by no means is he as smart as one. I know plenty dudes who play basketball for their respective schools, & not one of them is a math whiz. Or english, science or history for that matter, but again, just saying.
[tony's note: dolphins are mad smart, really though. flipper would kick lassie's ass...]
It's common knowledge that rich guys like toys. Side women, or jump-offs, are no different than a shiny new car or a ginormous television, or what have you. In a lot of cases, the toys can be detrimental. A motorcycle can kill you. A car can kill you. A woman can suck you dry-no pun intended, & drag your name through the mud like a plow mule. When cats get toys, especially real nice ones, they tend to neglect the important things. Now, in the case of inanimate objects, that don't mind the times when you walk away, that's not an issue. But, real-life, silicon/botox filled people? That becomes disastrous on several levels. What begins with wifey asking where you been, quickly becomes fancy plaything asking where are you going, & before you know it, Gloria Allred has you in the figure-four, sodomizing your bank account. Maybe it's my inner-poor person speaking, but that seems like an absolute bummer.
I rarely feel sorry for rich people, even when they're handicapped, but there's always a soft spot in my heart for a fool. When foolish behavior borders on absolute ignorance though, no dice. Even I know when to turn off the video games, & tend to my better half. I actually mean video games, that's not a euphemism.
Money can buy you brain, but it can't buy you brains...
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Barack Obama Is Blacker Than Rod Blagojevich.
"I'm blacker than Barack Obama. I shined shoes. I grew up in a five-room apartment. My father had a little laundromat in a black community not far from where we lived, I saw it all growing up..."-Former Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich
"[Obama could be president because] he is light-skinned and has no Negro dialect, unless he wanted to have one."-Nevada Democrat Harry Reid
As soon as Barack Obama was sworn in as the 44th President of the United States, I predicted an undertone of racism, but not in a bad, per se. America is a country built on race-related opinions, thoughts, & actions as well. There's no denying that. As such, I believe most denizens of the country harbor small amounts of racism that seep into daily life. Not malicious, or harmful by any stretch. In fact, it's the exact thing that both of these men showed when they spoke about the POTUG.
First & foremost, I want to point out that Black isn't a country, anywhere on the planet. This is the reason "we" refer to ourselves as African-Americans. Only in America are we Black. Any other country, we're American. Odd, no? Personally, I'm an American, of African descent. Just saying.
In theory, Blacks are supposed to act a certain way. Sad, but true. No matter how sophisticated, or educated, we're expected to have a certain amount of shuck & jive in our step. Maybe it's a slower stroll, with a slight bop every third step, maybe it's replacing "Hi" with "What's up?", or the more archaic "What's Happenin'?", perhaps we're supposed to use all those phrases that have been ingrained into society's psyche, like "saaaay whaaaat?" or "get back, jack!", or maybe we're supposed to refer to each other as "home slice" & "cool breeze", kna'mean, my brutha? Not to mention the ability to rap & tap dance is a trait we inherit at birth, & should showcase those talents as often as possible. Maybe if President Obama busted a rhyme for the cameras at his inauguration, people would respect his blactivity a little more.
I've always been amused at the reasoning behind Bill Clinton being labeled our "first Black President". Why, because he ate at McDonalds-which targets lower class minority communities, plays a musical instrument for all to see, & has an affinity for sexual deviance? Sadly, yes, those are the reasons.
As a result of them being as woven into American culture as the scent of apple pie, stereotypes don't really bother me. & honestly, I don't think White people can jump or dance. & don't show me Larry Bird or Justin Timberlake, because I never saw Bird dunk, & Justin is an anomaly. Michael Jackson envy will do that to a person. As for Barry O. (a term I first heard from a White reporter...hmmm), he doesn't live up to the stereotypical requirements of being a Black man in America. Aside from the fact that his dad ran off, he's noticeably intelligent & articulate, which doesn't translate to traditional Black persona. What the hell ever. It's like, as a kid, my father was a stickler for proper grammar, my grandfather as well. So, I pronounced & enunciated as I was taught. But, to the kids who didn't have that responsibility, I was less than Black. Often teased. I knew better than to think I was "actin' White", but it did bother me from time to time. Not much though. I'm sure Barack feels the same way. It's like one of those back-handed compliments, like "Oh, she has a nice personality...", or "You're cute for a big girl."
I'd bet money that a fair percentage of voters voted for Barack because he is Black, but not in the "I have a dream" sense. More the, "Black people are cool" aesthetic. Those people are dumb, if that's the case. They must not have heard that gay is the new Black. & Middle-eastern is the new gay. They probably would've done well to watch some more television before they voted.
[tony's note: sorry, I couldn't think of any gay, middle-eastern dudes to use an example of who those type of toolbags should've voted for...]
America needs to take off the jiggaboo-tinted glasses they watch Barack through, really though. Let the record show that he is the quintessential Black man. An American of African descent, who assumes responsibility & takes charge, of his family & beyond. I may not agree with all his political actions, but like it or not, we voted for the man we thought would fufill his agreement. I, for one, believe that by the end of his tenure, he will have achieved & overcome many of his targeted areas. But, that's neither here nor there. I proudly claim that half of who (secretly) smokes Newports & loves to play basketball. For every story that the media circulates that illustrates "the Black man" in a negative light, there's 5 stories that shine light on Barack. Through the muck & mire of political warfare, there's a Black man who, with his wife & daughters by his side, stands tall, even after attempted character assassination. You can't put a color, or a race, on that type of resilience.
Hey Rod, don't you have some pressing legal issues to be more worried about? Just asking.
"[Obama could be president because] he is light-skinned and has no Negro dialect, unless he wanted to have one."-Nevada Democrat Harry Reid
As soon as Barack Obama was sworn in as the 44th President of the United States, I predicted an undertone of racism, but not in a bad, per se. America is a country built on race-related opinions, thoughts, & actions as well. There's no denying that. As such, I believe most denizens of the country harbor small amounts of racism that seep into daily life. Not malicious, or harmful by any stretch. In fact, it's the exact thing that both of these men showed when they spoke about the POTUG.
First & foremost, I want to point out that Black isn't a country, anywhere on the planet. This is the reason "we" refer to ourselves as African-Americans. Only in America are we Black. Any other country, we're American. Odd, no? Personally, I'm an American, of African descent. Just saying.
In theory, Blacks are supposed to act a certain way. Sad, but true. No matter how sophisticated, or educated, we're expected to have a certain amount of shuck & jive in our step. Maybe it's a slower stroll, with a slight bop every third step, maybe it's replacing "Hi" with "What's up?", or the more archaic "What's Happenin'?", perhaps we're supposed to use all those phrases that have been ingrained into society's psyche, like "saaaay whaaaat?" or "get back, jack!", or maybe we're supposed to refer to each other as "home slice" & "cool breeze", kna'mean, my brutha? Not to mention the ability to rap & tap dance is a trait we inherit at birth, & should showcase those talents as often as possible. Maybe if President Obama busted a rhyme for the cameras at his inauguration, people would respect his blactivity a little more.
I've always been amused at the reasoning behind Bill Clinton being labeled our "first Black President". Why, because he ate at McDonalds-which targets lower class minority communities, plays a musical instrument for all to see, & has an affinity for sexual deviance? Sadly, yes, those are the reasons.
As a result of them being as woven into American culture as the scent of apple pie, stereotypes don't really bother me. & honestly, I don't think White people can jump or dance. & don't show me Larry Bird or Justin Timberlake, because I never saw Bird dunk, & Justin is an anomaly. Michael Jackson envy will do that to a person. As for Barry O. (a term I first heard from a White reporter...hmmm), he doesn't live up to the stereotypical requirements of being a Black man in America. Aside from the fact that his dad ran off, he's noticeably intelligent & articulate, which doesn't translate to traditional Black persona. What the hell ever. It's like, as a kid, my father was a stickler for proper grammar, my grandfather as well. So, I pronounced & enunciated as I was taught. But, to the kids who didn't have that responsibility, I was less than Black. Often teased. I knew better than to think I was "actin' White", but it did bother me from time to time. Not much though. I'm sure Barack feels the same way. It's like one of those back-handed compliments, like "Oh, she has a nice personality...", or "You're cute for a big girl."
I'd bet money that a fair percentage of voters voted for Barack because he is Black, but not in the "I have a dream" sense. More the, "Black people are cool" aesthetic. Those people are dumb, if that's the case. They must not have heard that gay is the new Black. & Middle-eastern is the new gay. They probably would've done well to watch some more television before they voted.
[tony's note: sorry, I couldn't think of any gay, middle-eastern dudes to use an example of who those type of toolbags should've voted for...]
America needs to take off the jiggaboo-tinted glasses they watch Barack through, really though. Let the record show that he is the quintessential Black man. An American of African descent, who assumes responsibility & takes charge, of his family & beyond. I may not agree with all his political actions, but like it or not, we voted for the man we thought would fufill his agreement. I, for one, believe that by the end of his tenure, he will have achieved & overcome many of his targeted areas. But, that's neither here nor there. I proudly claim that half of who (secretly) smokes Newports & loves to play basketball. For every story that the media circulates that illustrates "the Black man" in a negative light, there's 5 stories that shine light on Barack. Through the muck & mire of political warfare, there's a Black man who, with his wife & daughters by his side, stands tall, even after attempted character assassination. You can't put a color, or a race, on that type of resilience.
Hey Rod, don't you have some pressing legal issues to be more worried about? Just asking.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Lloyd Banks Clan Aint Nuttin' Ta Fuck Wit!
"Rapper Lloyd Banks and three associates were arrested in Ontario, Canada this weekend for assaulting a promoter. According to reports, Banks and the three other men assaulted Hines in a hotel room near Kitchener, when Hines reportedly refused to pay Banks for the performance. Banks was allegedly late to the venue and only performed one song and walked off the stage, further inciting an already agitated crowd. The four men will be charged with assault, robbery and forced confinement."-AllHipHop.com
Canada must be way more hardbody than we give it credit for. Remind me to go back & listen to see if DJ Quik said it was 'Jus Lyke Compton.' Maybe they just don't like Americans, & all that weed smoke in the air has created a society with no inhibitions, thusly, rappers get shit thrown at them on stage, prostitution is legal, etc. Personally, I wouldn't fuck around in a place where the cops ride horses, moose-shooting is a pastime, & hockey is the most popular sport. Where else do they let you beat the hell out of each other, sit down & rest as a "penalty", only to come back with a stick & an even worse disposition? Mayweather's playing around with this supposed Pac-man fight, when he should be trying out for the Toronto Maple Leaf's, really though. Although, thanks to Gilbert Arenas, the NBA is slowly making it's way back up the totem pole of gulliness. No shots-pun intended.
After all the verbiage thrown his way, you'd think Lloyd Banks would've staked out every Arby's below the Mason-Dixon by now, in hopes of running across Rick Ross the rapper, or every dope spot, on the chance that Young Buck may be trolling in or out. No dice. I don't condone violence, but once Ross the rapper put it out there that Banks was a gay porn star, & videos emerged of a dude that really did look a lot like him humping another man in the keister, I'da had to run up on homie. Even if it meant cutting my knuckles to the white meat on bulletproof beard. But that's not the point...
[tony's note: the gay, lloyd banks-look-alike-porn star took his new found fame, & released a rap song. that was an awkward, but smart move. just saying...]
The point is that, these rappers kill me with the way they handle their business. If I didn't sell a whole hell of a lot of records, & yet people still wanted to pay me to perform, there's no way on Earth I'd be late. Maybe I'm the silly one for thinking "rapping" is a legitimate job. There was nothing between a dwindling Lloyd Banks & his pay day but air & opportunity. That's like, all I have to eat at home is Cup O' Noodles, & Wienerschnitzel's is offering me all-you-can eat corn dogs as long as I eat them there, for people to see me. No question; corn dogs, FTW! & if I was late for the wiener buffet, pause, I can't be mad at the manager, much less have my weed carriers stomp him out. I would've politely asked for an extra large chili fries, with onions, & went on about my merry way.
You know Hip Hop is getting disrespectful when the weed carrier's weed carriers are handing out ass whippings.
At the least, Banks could've just got at the man one-on-one, with carriers on stand-by, so if he started losing, they could've stepped in & minimalized the damage. Makes sense to me. But then again, I'm not a rapper. At the most, Judge Mathis seems to be a pretty fair cat. He could've took dude on the show to sue him, got his money plus extra compensation, AND been on T.V. Instead, the niggas in jail, with his crew in tow. & the lawsuit shoe will most definitely be on the other foot now.
I sort of feel sorry for Banks, because as talented as he is, he never fully reached his potential. I'm sure standing behind 50 Cent in all the promo shots, & doing his ad-libs at every performance sounded like a good idea at first. Now it's probably clear that such a "career" move may have stifled him a bit. This whole episode reeks of a bitter rapper & his band of henchmen taking out their hunger pangs on a man that's just trying to make an honest buck. I would argue that his arrest might help him realize that being a rap cat doesn't make one above the law, but apparently rappers think going to jail is good for publicity these days, so, yeah. For all we know, the promoter guy may have been ready to work out an agreement with Banks, & Banks, needing a popularity boost, screamed "G-G-G-G-G-G-Unit!" at the top of his lungs & chopped him in the throat. Rappers seem to have a backwards sense of productivity these days. Even the irrelevant ones.
Without Interscope on his back, Lloyd is free to make major moves, & he's arguably one of the better free agents out there right now. Assuming this case goes to trial, & he faces time behind bars, this is the perfect time to drop that new mixtape. Jail time is the new magazine advertisement, & I wouldn't put it past Lloyd to have done this shit on purpose, word to Gucci Mane.
Canada must be way more hardbody than we give it credit for. Remind me to go back & listen to see if DJ Quik said it was 'Jus Lyke Compton.' Maybe they just don't like Americans, & all that weed smoke in the air has created a society with no inhibitions, thusly, rappers get shit thrown at them on stage, prostitution is legal, etc. Personally, I wouldn't fuck around in a place where the cops ride horses, moose-shooting is a pastime, & hockey is the most popular sport. Where else do they let you beat the hell out of each other, sit down & rest as a "penalty", only to come back with a stick & an even worse disposition? Mayweather's playing around with this supposed Pac-man fight, when he should be trying out for the Toronto Maple Leaf's, really though. Although, thanks to Gilbert Arenas, the NBA is slowly making it's way back up the totem pole of gulliness. No shots-pun intended.
After all the verbiage thrown his way, you'd think Lloyd Banks would've staked out every Arby's below the Mason-Dixon by now, in hopes of running across Rick Ross the rapper, or every dope spot, on the chance that Young Buck may be trolling in or out. No dice. I don't condone violence, but once Ross the rapper put it out there that Banks was a gay porn star, & videos emerged of a dude that really did look a lot like him humping another man in the keister, I'da had to run up on homie. Even if it meant cutting my knuckles to the white meat on bulletproof beard. But that's not the point...
[tony's note: the gay, lloyd banks-look-alike-porn star took his new found fame, & released a rap song. that was an awkward, but smart move. just saying...]
The point is that, these rappers kill me with the way they handle their business. If I didn't sell a whole hell of a lot of records, & yet people still wanted to pay me to perform, there's no way on Earth I'd be late. Maybe I'm the silly one for thinking "rapping" is a legitimate job. There was nothing between a dwindling Lloyd Banks & his pay day but air & opportunity. That's like, all I have to eat at home is Cup O' Noodles, & Wienerschnitzel's is offering me all-you-can eat corn dogs as long as I eat them there, for people to see me. No question; corn dogs, FTW! & if I was late for the wiener buffet, pause, I can't be mad at the manager, much less have my weed carriers stomp him out. I would've politely asked for an extra large chili fries, with onions, & went on about my merry way.
You know Hip Hop is getting disrespectful when the weed carrier's weed carriers are handing out ass whippings.
At the least, Banks could've just got at the man one-on-one, with carriers on stand-by, so if he started losing, they could've stepped in & minimalized the damage. Makes sense to me. But then again, I'm not a rapper. At the most, Judge Mathis seems to be a pretty fair cat. He could've took dude on the show to sue him, got his money plus extra compensation, AND been on T.V. Instead, the niggas in jail, with his crew in tow. & the lawsuit shoe will most definitely be on the other foot now.
I sort of feel sorry for Banks, because as talented as he is, he never fully reached his potential. I'm sure standing behind 50 Cent in all the promo shots, & doing his ad-libs at every performance sounded like a good idea at first. Now it's probably clear that such a "career" move may have stifled him a bit. This whole episode reeks of a bitter rapper & his band of henchmen taking out their hunger pangs on a man that's just trying to make an honest buck. I would argue that his arrest might help him realize that being a rap cat doesn't make one above the law, but apparently rappers think going to jail is good for publicity these days, so, yeah. For all we know, the promoter guy may have been ready to work out an agreement with Banks, & Banks, needing a popularity boost, screamed "G-G-G-G-G-G-Unit!" at the top of his lungs & chopped him in the throat. Rappers seem to have a backwards sense of productivity these days. Even the irrelevant ones.
Without Interscope on his back, Lloyd is free to make major moves, & he's arguably one of the better free agents out there right now. Assuming this case goes to trial, & he faces time behind bars, this is the perfect time to drop that new mixtape. Jail time is the new magazine advertisement, & I wouldn't put it past Lloyd to have done this shit on purpose, word to Gucci Mane.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Farewell, 50...
I'm undeniably, unapologetically a 50 Cent fan. When I say "fan", I don't mean I like his latest album, or enjoy his Internet antics. I mean I listen to his music, almost daily. & not in the "I might pull up his joints on the i-Pod sometimes" sense, I mean all of my ring tones on the Blackberry are set to 50 songs, really though. In fact, when you leave your comment (stop lurking & holler at your boy!), 'Window Shopper' will blare from my hip to alert me. He may have been the most pivotal rapper of the decade. Hate me if you will, but I stand firm on my ground. Before you get your fingers ready to dig my proverbial comment section grave site, let me make myself clear.
Dude's lyrics, meh at best. His beat selection has gotten progressively more mediocre with each studio album's release, from 'The Massacre', to 'BISD'. He flosses to much. He literally rode the "street credibility" wagon until the wheels fell off, then watched them bounce off into the sunset. He treats most people like shit, in front of an audience. He doesn't do any of his music for the betterment of Hip Hop, or rap music in general, for that matter. For all intents and purposes, he's the biggest Douche in entertainment since Spencer Pratt was on that "I'm a celebrity!" game show with John Salley. Now that we got that out of the way, let me tell you why I think he's awesome.
50 cent, according to General Combat Jack, never set out to be a rapper. It was bigger than that, deeper than rap (no pun intended & [||]). He decided long ago that he wanted to take over the industry. That's forward thinking, beyond setting Billboard chart goals and plans on moving units through Soundscan. Which was probably why he attacked the streets with his mixtapes first & foremost, which guaranteed that his key demographic would have his shit meet them where it should; the streets. This man may possibly be the reason for record companies no longer really needing A&R's. Granted, the position still exists, but the glamour once attached is no more. The 'Net is the new A&R. Obviously Curtis Jackson wasn't the first dude to use this grass roots platform to boost his celebrity, but he worked it like a fat girl in hooker boots. Before cats were bumping 'Wanksta', cats were bumping 'Wanksta', if you smell my cologne.
No matter what battles have ensued throughout the years, Curtis Jackson gave new meaning to the word "beef". He made it a viable marketing tool. He turned it into a weapon. He made it a reason to tune in to the 'Nets. Hell, he might even be the driving force behind e-thuggery reaching meteoric heights in the last couple of years. No longer was it battles on wax, punch lines, & mild discrediting. Thanks to F-50, it became skeleton exposure, video footage, court papers, & character assassination that we haven't seen since the 1960's. Not that it was/is a good look for the culture, but let's give credit where it's due. I learned in 2nd grade; if you're going to be an asshole, you might as well go balls out. Like swimming trunks with no underwear. I'm one of those who say he didn't "end" Ja Rule's career, per se, but when was the last time Jeffrey Atkins made you dance? Just saying.
Curtis Jackson's last offering, 'Before I Self Destruct' was a very important album. Not lyrically, because in all honesty, his first and best album, 'Get Rich Or Die Tryin'', even contained meager rhymes with the occasional cool verse. We were willing to over look that short-coming due to his vivid story telling, brute honesty, and trunk-rattle factor, but if an acapella version of 'GRODT' had been given away to the public, I imagine the Frisbee industry would've faced a large decrease in stock value. Even still, 50 Cent changed the game. Where the west coast fizzled, after Suge Knight sabotaged an entire coastline of music, 50, from Queens, New York, did what many artists, regardless of region or race, could not do--revive gangsta rap. It was the veritable height of Hip Hop glamour and glitz when Curtis stepped out with 'How To Rob An Industry Nigga', and thus hardcore street music was back on the rise. Coast to coast, niggas tossed their shiny shirts and expensive eye wear to the side for thigh length white t-shirts, wave caps and eye-covering fitted hats. Grimey was back in style. This was before emo-rap brought emotion & semi-sensitivity back to the forefront, when heartless thug life reigned supreme. And damn, it felt good to be a gangsta.
Truth be told, Tupac had to die for all of this to take place, but that's a drop for another day.
As Kanye West began to gain momentum in the early 2000's though, the (Hip Hop) world began to see that it was okay to be a normal cat. It was nothing wrong with admitting one's faults and poking fun at one's self sometimes, instead of others constantly. Just like in high school, bullies only last for a certain amount of time, before people stop taking them seriously, & start treating them realistically. Being a hoodlum was all to the good, but being nerdy was becoming cool again. What was once Carhartt and Dickies was now Gucci and Louis V. & it's not that Kanye spearheaded the movement, but he became the poster boy for the alternative Hip Hop lifestyle, and folks were feeling it. So much so, that over-sized became the "new" too small. Loud colors became the "new" white tee. Man-bags became the, well, them shits were still man-bags, but that's neither here nor there.
Fast track to 2009's release of 'Before I Self Destruct', and one would be hard pressed not to notice the amount of weight that album shouldered. More than just 50's last obligatory album for Jimmy Iovine, it marked the measuring stick for his rap career, and more importantly, the green mile march of gangsta music as we came to know it.
Although selling a modest amount of records amidst a declining recording industry, 50's album was labeled a failure by many, and wack by most. At the same time, Kid Cudi, Kanye West, Drake, and Lupe Fiasco emerged victorious as the emo-rap wave washed ashore. With 50 Cent's next move in limbo, Hip Hop is now devoid of a true "bad guy", & metrosexual thugs are running this rap shit. Chances are he'll never reign atop the charts ever again, so who's the next knucklehead nigga we can love to hate, hate to love, and try to keep our kids from listening to?
Think about every movie conflict you've ever watched. In most instances, cats root for the bad guy, even if they know his demise is imminent. Hip Hop is no different. We NEED a successful, "I don't give a fuck about none of y'all"-type guy to hate on. That's the reason people drop hundreds of monies on Pit Bulls instead of majestic German Shepards. If that Pit Bull gets loose and eats someone's infant, we know he'll be euthanized, and we might get arrested, but until that day comes, we tote that motherfucking dog around like he's our best friend. American culture loves a bad guy. If not, we wouldn't have re-elected George W. Bush, & Hollywood wouldn't keep giving Samuel L. Jackson the same parts in different movies. &, when we can't find a bad guy, we make one up. Just ask Barack Obama.
50's presence in Hip Hop will surely be missed. If not for lyrics & antagonistic narcissism, then for the sheer magnitude of his asshole behavior, & the coconuts it took to be a moving target for so long. All hail the bad guy.
Farewell, 50...
Dude's lyrics, meh at best. His beat selection has gotten progressively more mediocre with each studio album's release, from 'The Massacre', to 'BISD'. He flosses to much. He literally rode the "street credibility" wagon until the wheels fell off, then watched them bounce off into the sunset. He treats most people like shit, in front of an audience. He doesn't do any of his music for the betterment of Hip Hop, or rap music in general, for that matter. For all intents and purposes, he's the biggest Douche in entertainment since Spencer Pratt was on that "I'm a celebrity!" game show with John Salley. Now that we got that out of the way, let me tell you why I think he's awesome.
50 cent, according to General Combat Jack, never set out to be a rapper. It was bigger than that, deeper than rap (no pun intended & [||]). He decided long ago that he wanted to take over the industry. That's forward thinking, beyond setting Billboard chart goals and plans on moving units through Soundscan. Which was probably why he attacked the streets with his mixtapes first & foremost, which guaranteed that his key demographic would have his shit meet them where it should; the streets. This man may possibly be the reason for record companies no longer really needing A&R's. Granted, the position still exists, but the glamour once attached is no more. The 'Net is the new A&R. Obviously Curtis Jackson wasn't the first dude to use this grass roots platform to boost his celebrity, but he worked it like a fat girl in hooker boots. Before cats were bumping 'Wanksta', cats were bumping 'Wanksta', if you smell my cologne.
No matter what battles have ensued throughout the years, Curtis Jackson gave new meaning to the word "beef". He made it a viable marketing tool. He turned it into a weapon. He made it a reason to tune in to the 'Nets. Hell, he might even be the driving force behind e-thuggery reaching meteoric heights in the last couple of years. No longer was it battles on wax, punch lines, & mild discrediting. Thanks to F-50, it became skeleton exposure, video footage, court papers, & character assassination that we haven't seen since the 1960's. Not that it was/is a good look for the culture, but let's give credit where it's due. I learned in 2nd grade; if you're going to be an asshole, you might as well go balls out. Like swimming trunks with no underwear. I'm one of those who say he didn't "end" Ja Rule's career, per se, but when was the last time Jeffrey Atkins made you dance? Just saying.
Curtis Jackson's last offering, 'Before I Self Destruct' was a very important album. Not lyrically, because in all honesty, his first and best album, 'Get Rich Or Die Tryin'', even contained meager rhymes with the occasional cool verse. We were willing to over look that short-coming due to his vivid story telling, brute honesty, and trunk-rattle factor, but if an acapella version of 'GRODT' had been given away to the public, I imagine the Frisbee industry would've faced a large decrease in stock value. Even still, 50 Cent changed the game. Where the west coast fizzled, after Suge Knight sabotaged an entire coastline of music, 50, from Queens, New York, did what many artists, regardless of region or race, could not do--revive gangsta rap. It was the veritable height of Hip Hop glamour and glitz when Curtis stepped out with 'How To Rob An Industry Nigga', and thus hardcore street music was back on the rise. Coast to coast, niggas tossed their shiny shirts and expensive eye wear to the side for thigh length white t-shirts, wave caps and eye-covering fitted hats. Grimey was back in style. This was before emo-rap brought emotion & semi-sensitivity back to the forefront, when heartless thug life reigned supreme. And damn, it felt good to be a gangsta.
Truth be told, Tupac had to die for all of this to take place, but that's a drop for another day.
As Kanye West began to gain momentum in the early 2000's though, the (Hip Hop) world began to see that it was okay to be a normal cat. It was nothing wrong with admitting one's faults and poking fun at one's self sometimes, instead of others constantly. Just like in high school, bullies only last for a certain amount of time, before people stop taking them seriously, & start treating them realistically. Being a hoodlum was all to the good, but being nerdy was becoming cool again. What was once Carhartt and Dickies was now Gucci and Louis V. & it's not that Kanye spearheaded the movement, but he became the poster boy for the alternative Hip Hop lifestyle, and folks were feeling it. So much so, that over-sized became the "new" too small. Loud colors became the "new" white tee. Man-bags became the, well, them shits were still man-bags, but that's neither here nor there.
Fast track to 2009's release of 'Before I Self Destruct', and one would be hard pressed not to notice the amount of weight that album shouldered. More than just 50's last obligatory album for Jimmy Iovine, it marked the measuring stick for his rap career, and more importantly, the green mile march of gangsta music as we came to know it.
Although selling a modest amount of records amidst a declining recording industry, 50's album was labeled a failure by many, and wack by most. At the same time, Kid Cudi, Kanye West, Drake, and Lupe Fiasco emerged victorious as the emo-rap wave washed ashore. With 50 Cent's next move in limbo, Hip Hop is now devoid of a true "bad guy", & metrosexual thugs are running this rap shit. Chances are he'll never reign atop the charts ever again, so who's the next knucklehead nigga we can love to hate, hate to love, and try to keep our kids from listening to?
Think about every movie conflict you've ever watched. In most instances, cats root for the bad guy, even if they know his demise is imminent. Hip Hop is no different. We NEED a successful, "I don't give a fuck about none of y'all"-type guy to hate on. That's the reason people drop hundreds of monies on Pit Bulls instead of majestic German Shepards. If that Pit Bull gets loose and eats someone's infant, we know he'll be euthanized, and we might get arrested, but until that day comes, we tote that motherfucking dog around like he's our best friend. American culture loves a bad guy. If not, we wouldn't have re-elected George W. Bush, & Hollywood wouldn't keep giving Samuel L. Jackson the same parts in different movies. &, when we can't find a bad guy, we make one up. Just ask Barack Obama.
50's presence in Hip Hop will surely be missed. If not for lyrics & antagonistic narcissism, then for the sheer magnitude of his asshole behavior, & the coconuts it took to be a moving target for so long. All hail the bad guy.
Farewell, 50...
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Playing With Fire(Power)
I like guns. Like most dudes, there's something about them that just draws my attention. Dr. Francis Cress-Welsing wrote in her book 'The Isis Papers', they're phallic, symbolic of our penises, an extension-if you will, & we know that niggas love grabbing their junk for what the reason. Perhaps that's why whenever the opportunity presents itself to take pictures holding one, authentic or not, dudes jump on it. Really though, we all have flicks holding somebody's piece, mean-mugging, praying that shit doesn't go off. Fuck a manslaughter charge. My love affair with firearms started with my grand pops. He fought in WWII, & killed a german dude, took his pistol & brought it back to the states. He presented it to my dad like a trophy of his awesomeness. My dad still has it, & I'm sure one day he'll give it to me. He probably would've given it to me years ago, but you all know, I'm barely about 2 years into my recovery, so, yeah. God forbid I relapse with an old ass gun, & decide I don't appreciate some people as much as I think I do in sobriety. So, I understand. Hell, it's not even registered in this country. Just saying.
The infamous Ray Benzino has started a rather juvenile beef with Royce the 5'9", of the group Slaughterhouse, as of last week. Now normally, a couple of grown men exchanging insults via songs & Internet footage wouldn't be a reason to look twice. I mean, that's what Hip Hop is about these days, right? Too much testosterone, with a hint of misplaced emotional outbursts, & a twinge of personal attack, thanks to Curtis Jackson & company. What makes this incident a little more special than usual, is the fact that it didn't transpire to this point over the course of, say, a few months, or after a run-in somewhere, giving both of their weed carriers a chance to hoop & holler at one another as they "shoved" rent-a-cops out of the way. On the contrary, Benzino hit up the web, & immediately started talking guns, showing guns, & made several references to niggas getting killed. Rappers tossing empty threats around is common place. We should all be used to the requisite tough-talk that goes along with the music. Royce, being a veteran MC, should know the rules. Benzino is an attention-seeker. One of those dudes who goes out of his way to be seen, if only because without a gimmick, he'd be ignored, or heckled. The type of guy who the neighborhood kids throw rocks at his car, just because. Really though, I compare a lot of rap cats behaviors to that of my 6 year old son, & it doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess who fares higher on the maturity scale.
Royce displayed a massive amount of nigganometry, by not only responding to a Z-list rap guy, who's been chasing fame since 1973, but doing so, on camera, while brandishing a weapon. Not just any weapon, though. A. Rocket. Launcher. I've heard about Royce's battles with alcoholism, & maybe they should let home skillet play so much 'Call Of Duty', while he's drunk off his ass. Not only is he lining himself up for numerous legal repercussions, on top of telling on himself ahead of time, like this was the movie 'Minority Report', but, is it really that serious? Worst case scenario: Benzino goes to Detroit, to confront Royce face-to-face, & Royce-feeling as though there's something to prove-LAUNCHES A ROCKET at him, clearing out 1/3 of a city block, which may or may not be rife with people. WTF? Are we so far gone as a society, that grenades & rocket launchers are the new sticks & stones?
Sure, this is America, & we have the right to bare arms, but, let's be real about what's being protected? Our lives or our manhood(s). I wonder how long before one of these moronic Hip Hop stars kills somebody, or gets killed for the sake of "keepin' it real." Truth be told, I had my money on Young Jeezy & Gucci Mane. I still haven't taken my bet off the table for that one. I miss the good ol' days when a threat of violence was just that; words spoken out of frustration. Word to Biggie, things done changed. & shame on World Star Hip Hop for being the conduit for ignorance. Niggas always yelling about how Hip Hop deserves respect, then we get on camera & point guns at the lens. Backwards hustling, indeed.
The infamous Ray Benzino has started a rather juvenile beef with Royce the 5'9", of the group Slaughterhouse, as of last week. Now normally, a couple of grown men exchanging insults via songs & Internet footage wouldn't be a reason to look twice. I mean, that's what Hip Hop is about these days, right? Too much testosterone, with a hint of misplaced emotional outbursts, & a twinge of personal attack, thanks to Curtis Jackson & company. What makes this incident a little more special than usual, is the fact that it didn't transpire to this point over the course of, say, a few months, or after a run-in somewhere, giving both of their weed carriers a chance to hoop & holler at one another as they "shoved" rent-a-cops out of the way. On the contrary, Benzino hit up the web, & immediately started talking guns, showing guns, & made several references to niggas getting killed. Rappers tossing empty threats around is common place. We should all be used to the requisite tough-talk that goes along with the music. Royce, being a veteran MC, should know the rules. Benzino is an attention-seeker. One of those dudes who goes out of his way to be seen, if only because without a gimmick, he'd be ignored, or heckled. The type of guy who the neighborhood kids throw rocks at his car, just because. Really though, I compare a lot of rap cats behaviors to that of my 6 year old son, & it doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess who fares higher on the maturity scale.
Royce displayed a massive amount of nigganometry, by not only responding to a Z-list rap guy, who's been chasing fame since 1973, but doing so, on camera, while brandishing a weapon. Not just any weapon, though. A. Rocket. Launcher. I've heard about Royce's battles with alcoholism, & maybe they should let home skillet play so much 'Call Of Duty', while he's drunk off his ass. Not only is he lining himself up for numerous legal repercussions, on top of telling on himself ahead of time, like this was the movie 'Minority Report', but, is it really that serious? Worst case scenario: Benzino goes to Detroit, to confront Royce face-to-face, & Royce-feeling as though there's something to prove-LAUNCHES A ROCKET at him, clearing out 1/3 of a city block, which may or may not be rife with people. WTF? Are we so far gone as a society, that grenades & rocket launchers are the new sticks & stones?
Sure, this is America, & we have the right to bare arms, but, let's be real about what's being protected? Our lives or our manhood(s). I wonder how long before one of these moronic Hip Hop stars kills somebody, or gets killed for the sake of "keepin' it real." Truth be told, I had my money on Young Jeezy & Gucci Mane. I still haven't taken my bet off the table for that one. I miss the good ol' days when a threat of violence was just that; words spoken out of frustration. Word to Biggie, things done changed. & shame on World Star Hip Hop for being the conduit for ignorance. Niggas always yelling about how Hip Hop deserves respect, then we get on camera & point guns at the lens. Backwards hustling, indeed.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Open Letter To Young Buck
::::In the blogosphere, it's our duties to spread love, & shine light, & provide commentary for all willing to partake. Simultaneously, if at all possible. My dude $ykotic Don McCaine, whom I build with heavy, like construction workers, had something to say. Why not say it here?::::::::
WTF Buck???
I’m pretty sure by now most of you have heard the 3 diss records aimed at 50 Cent by his previous weed carrier Young Buck. Although “Happy New Year”, “Steroidz”, and “Do It For Ya” will never reach the upper echelon of the Billboard charts, these songs have scathing lyrics aimed at 50 Cent, Tony Yayo, and Lloyd Banks. If anyone has followed the G-Unit collective lately you should know that they have heard these songs in their entirety.
So I ask, WTF Buck? Is it because you have a resentment that 50 decided to help Beanie Sigel with his situation with Jay-Z? We all know Fif likes to talk, and he clearly said during his viral campaign of promoting Before I Self Destruct that he would put your album out if it were a good album. From my perspective you just wasted 3 opportunities. The beats on these diss records are good enough to start a mixtape project to get back into the fold of things in the rap game. It’s the content that’s makes me wonder what the hell is really going on in Young Buck’s mind.
I mean wouldn’t it be easier to hop on to the bike, stay balanced, ride up to NY to 50’s office with a PowerPoint presentation? Show the man you are serious about wiping the slate clean? From the outside looking in my vision can see that all 50 wants is his tax investment. You could’ve even sweetened the deal by walking in the office with some of 50’s Power cologne on. I think you Buck, have a better advantage than Beans does of righting this wrong. To my knowledge Jay-Z doesn’t have an office in the city that everybody knows of. If all of these “B” rappers can go there and do interviews I’m pretty sure you can schedule a meeting.
And also, what is the next move Buck? Did you not forget that 50 Cent plays chess with drama? Okay I don’t expect much from Yayo, but Banks and 50? Are you thinking of rook and bishop moves Buck? Or are you stuck on pushing the pawns? Beans said he wants nothing but a conversation with Jay (and IMO, an apology for that cop calling incident in PA). 50 said he wants his money back.
What do you want Buck? A release from your G-Unit contract obligation? You’re not going to get it like this brougham. Recognition? I think more people are recognizing that you have no business savvy and minimal brain axioms to get your business in order.
Figure it out soon Buck. You know the reaction because of your actions is coming at any moment now. And oh yeah, don’t be surprised if Vanessa (XXL EIC) hollers at you for that line in “Steroidz”.
Good luck Buck.
WTF Buck???
I’m pretty sure by now most of you have heard the 3 diss records aimed at 50 Cent by his previous weed carrier Young Buck. Although “Happy New Year”, “Steroidz”, and “Do It For Ya” will never reach the upper echelon of the Billboard charts, these songs have scathing lyrics aimed at 50 Cent, Tony Yayo, and Lloyd Banks. If anyone has followed the G-Unit collective lately you should know that they have heard these songs in their entirety.
So I ask, WTF Buck? Is it because you have a resentment that 50 decided to help Beanie Sigel with his situation with Jay-Z? We all know Fif likes to talk, and he clearly said during his viral campaign of promoting Before I Self Destruct that he would put your album out if it were a good album. From my perspective you just wasted 3 opportunities. The beats on these diss records are good enough to start a mixtape project to get back into the fold of things in the rap game. It’s the content that’s makes me wonder what the hell is really going on in Young Buck’s mind.
I mean wouldn’t it be easier to hop on to the bike, stay balanced, ride up to NY to 50’s office with a PowerPoint presentation? Show the man you are serious about wiping the slate clean? From the outside looking in my vision can see that all 50 wants is his tax investment. You could’ve even sweetened the deal by walking in the office with some of 50’s Power cologne on. I think you Buck, have a better advantage than Beans does of righting this wrong. To my knowledge Jay-Z doesn’t have an office in the city that everybody knows of. If all of these “B” rappers can go there and do interviews I’m pretty sure you can schedule a meeting.
And also, what is the next move Buck? Did you not forget that 50 Cent plays chess with drama? Okay I don’t expect much from Yayo, but Banks and 50? Are you thinking of rook and bishop moves Buck? Or are you stuck on pushing the pawns? Beans said he wants nothing but a conversation with Jay (and IMO, an apology for that cop calling incident in PA). 50 said he wants his money back.
What do you want Buck? A release from your G-Unit contract obligation? You’re not going to get it like this brougham. Recognition? I think more people are recognizing that you have no business savvy and minimal brain axioms to get your business in order.
Figure it out soon Buck. You know the reaction because of your actions is coming at any moment now. And oh yeah, don’t be surprised if Vanessa (XXL EIC) hollers at you for that line in “Steroidz”.
Good luck Buck.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Bow Wow?!?...Wow.
I'm not really one to go in on dudes[||], unless I see them as a walking ass load of jokes (pause?), or a pathetic douche nozzle who's adamantly asking for it. But occasionally, some cats are targets for all the wrong reasons. Today is Bow Wow's turn. Plus, fuck it, he could use the publicity. I guess he knows it, too, & has aligned his "star power" with Chris Brown's. Bow Wow's effervescent mom should've told him that straddling the domestic violence poster boy would help his career about as much as naming his last album after a movie where the highlight was a hot, young Christopher Williams ([||]x1,000) getting stabbed through the hand for being light skinned (I took that as a personal slight, BTW). Oh shit, I forgot Chris Rock smoked crack in that piece! Okay, a movie where the highlight was Chris Rock smoking a rock, word to Alanis Morrissette.
Anyway...I won't say that Bow Weezy is a failure. Hell, I'm almost positive he has a watch, cuff link, or toothbrush that costs more money than I can make in a year. & that includes being a sperm donor and selling my piss to people who know I don't smoke weed anymore. But, as the big homie Ron Mexico says, money does not equate intelligence. Even when your mother's in charge of both. FTR, I liked 'Like Mike', but for the life of me, I can't name one Bow Wow song right now. I can sing Da Brat's 'Funkdafied' word for word, though. Just saying.
For some strange reason, despite missteps, bad fortune, &/or an obvious lack of any "grown folk" life direction, Big Bow Wow is still in the public eye. Blame Twitter if you must, although Myspace & FaceBook couldn't have hurt none. Probably the one aspect of Twitter that I truly can stomach is that it gives niggas something to read, & a reason to write, even if 90% of the contents are so grossly mispelled that it doesn't qualify as 'shorthand'. & judging by the majority of dogs & cats that swear by it, reading & writing really is for dumb people. Get it? & to think, I had no idea that I can see the future, like Nostradamus.
On New Year's Eve, in what I take to be an oddly humorous attempt to garner some fresh-out-the-box, 2010 publicity, Bow Wow used the reliable self-snitch machine, a/k/a Twitter, to let the world know that he's light years beyond the stupidity we came to know & love him for:
"Face numb. im whippin the lambo. Tispy as fuck. Just left @livmiami."
"I'm fucked up!!! Ohhhh damn. Y i drive the lambo. Chris might have to drive after next spot."
Apparently, young 'Shad was tweeting while drunk driving in a Lamborgini, a move that can only be pulled off by the most skilled douche nozzles. Think tying a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue, on a trampoline, while getting your sister's best friend pregnant. Yeah, like that.
&, he spelled "tipsy" wrong.
I'm at a loss for what was more saddening; the fact that he felt he had to advise all 300 of his followers that he's driving the same type of car that Rihanna's face beat up Chris Brown's fists (& career) in, or that he thought somebody actually cared. That's just a sign as to his thought process lacking the maturity needed to be the man he claims to be. Although, I guess hanging out with Omarion would make any dude feel a bit more masculine than they really are. Femininity aside though, as an adored public scapegoat, Shad should've known better. God forbid a drunken, pissed off Chris Brown had've been in the Lambo with him. A couple of flashbacks on Brown's part, & them niggas might have been tweeting between open-handed slaps to each other's mouths.
There's a pretty good chance that the majority of Bow Wow's followers are sexually confused teenage girls & impressionable young men who've been looking for father figures since their father figured it was time to blow town.
[tony's note:^^swish!! 2 points!]
Now matter how you slice it, that shit is just irresponsible. Even though he eventually apologized & deleted the original message, any possible damage was done.
"Apologize for that tweet. it was stupid and immature. not a way i want to kick my #2010 year off. i got too much good stuff lined up. my bad."
"Good stuff lined up..." Yeah, Shawty Redd had good stuff lined up too, if you smell my cologne. Even though it's hard for us adults to fathom, a lot of kids love this clown, despite the fact that he looks like the son that Lil Mama & Raja Rondo never had. Really though, Jermaine Dupri needs to step off that Black, male version of 'The View', & go back to mentoring young, misguided entertainment niggas, like he used to. Although, the last time I heard somebody say the phrase "so, so def" was on a television special about the life of Helen Keller. Actually, I would like to think he's old enough to facilitate his own post-teeny bopper career, especially if he's old enough to drive small fortunates while intoxicated. To let a virtual community know you're commiting a felony in real-time takes balls the size of dinner plates, or the same amount of stupidity that Tiger Woods had as he left his name on jump-off message centers. Either way, if it was attention he wanted, now he's got it.
Maybe he has a song coming out. Yeah, & it doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess who'll be doing the hook. No pun intended. Chris Brown & Bow Wow are easily the OJ Simpson & Al Cowlins of the Hip Pop universe. Damn, so many parallels to illustrate there that I'd rather just leave it up to you.
Consider it homework.
Anyway...I won't say that Bow Weezy is a failure. Hell, I'm almost positive he has a watch, cuff link, or toothbrush that costs more money than I can make in a year. & that includes being a sperm donor and selling my piss to people who know I don't smoke weed anymore. But, as the big homie Ron Mexico says, money does not equate intelligence. Even when your mother's in charge of both. FTR, I liked 'Like Mike', but for the life of me, I can't name one Bow Wow song right now. I can sing Da Brat's 'Funkdafied' word for word, though. Just saying.
For some strange reason, despite missteps, bad fortune, &/or an obvious lack of any "grown folk" life direction, Big Bow Wow is still in the public eye. Blame Twitter if you must, although Myspace & FaceBook couldn't have hurt none. Probably the one aspect of Twitter that I truly can stomach is that it gives niggas something to read, & a reason to write, even if 90% of the contents are so grossly mispelled that it doesn't qualify as 'shorthand'. & judging by the majority of dogs & cats that swear by it, reading & writing really is for dumb people. Get it? & to think, I had no idea that I can see the future, like Nostradamus.
On New Year's Eve, in what I take to be an oddly humorous attempt to garner some fresh-out-the-box, 2010 publicity, Bow Wow used the reliable self-snitch machine, a/k/a Twitter, to let the world know that he's light years beyond the stupidity we came to know & love him for:
"Face numb. im whippin the lambo. Tispy as fuck. Just left @livmiami."
"I'm fucked up!!! Ohhhh damn. Y i drive the lambo. Chris might have to drive after next spot."
Apparently, young 'Shad was tweeting while drunk driving in a Lamborgini, a move that can only be pulled off by the most skilled douche nozzles. Think tying a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue, on a trampoline, while getting your sister's best friend pregnant. Yeah, like that.
&, he spelled "tipsy" wrong.
I'm at a loss for what was more saddening; the fact that he felt he had to advise all 300 of his followers that he's driving the same type of car that Rihanna's face beat up Chris Brown's fists (& career) in, or that he thought somebody actually cared. That's just a sign as to his thought process lacking the maturity needed to be the man he claims to be. Although, I guess hanging out with Omarion would make any dude feel a bit more masculine than they really are. Femininity aside though, as an adored public scapegoat, Shad should've known better. God forbid a drunken, pissed off Chris Brown had've been in the Lambo with him. A couple of flashbacks on Brown's part, & them niggas might have been tweeting between open-handed slaps to each other's mouths.
There's a pretty good chance that the majority of Bow Wow's followers are sexually confused teenage girls & impressionable young men who've been looking for father figures since their father figured it was time to blow town.
[tony's note:^^swish!! 2 points!]
Now matter how you slice it, that shit is just irresponsible. Even though he eventually apologized & deleted the original message, any possible damage was done.
"Apologize for that tweet. it was stupid and immature. not a way i want to kick my #2010 year off. i got too much good stuff lined up. my bad."
"Good stuff lined up..." Yeah, Shawty Redd had good stuff lined up too, if you smell my cologne. Even though it's hard for us adults to fathom, a lot of kids love this clown, despite the fact that he looks like the son that Lil Mama & Raja Rondo never had. Really though, Jermaine Dupri needs to step off that Black, male version of 'The View', & go back to mentoring young, misguided entertainment niggas, like he used to. Although, the last time I heard somebody say the phrase "so, so def" was on a television special about the life of Helen Keller. Actually, I would like to think he's old enough to facilitate his own post-teeny bopper career, especially if he's old enough to drive small fortunates while intoxicated. To let a virtual community know you're commiting a felony in real-time takes balls the size of dinner plates, or the same amount of stupidity that Tiger Woods had as he left his name on jump-off message centers. Either way, if it was attention he wanted, now he's got it.
Maybe he has a song coming out. Yeah, & it doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess who'll be doing the hook. No pun intended. Chris Brown & Bow Wow are easily the OJ Simpson & Al Cowlins of the Hip Pop universe. Damn, so many parallels to illustrate there that I'd rather just leave it up to you.
Consider it homework.
Friday, January 1, 2010
The First Day Of The New Year...
"With great power comes great responsibility" - Peter Parker's Uncle Ben or somebody else, but I'm just gonna give him the credit
I'm not even really sure how to apply that to this, but mostly, a nigga's always wanted to say that in regards to myself. Ha!
Anyway, January 1st, & guess what? I have news to share...
I've been recruited for the war to bring truth, justice, & the (light-skinned African) American way to more screens, by way of Daily-Math.com.
The General himself, Combat Jack, has put together a team, in an effort to put boot to neck of this blog shit! Needless to say, I'm honored that he'd fuck with your boy in such a capacity, & I have something to truly appreciate in 2010, & I haven't even been awake an hour yet. As well as yours truly, there's:
Riggs Morales-former writer at The Source & A&R for Shady Records
Epiphany-of 'I Am The Life', at iamthelife.wordpress.com
Danja-of 'Danj Loves The 90's' at danjlovesthe90s.wordpress.com
Amp Geez-of 'Amplified Grammar' at amplifiedgrammar.blogspot.com
Dom Corleone-of 'Hold the Throne' at holdthethrone.com
Ice-of 'IceDotCom' at icedotcom.blogspot.com
He put the call out, & I, along with a handful of other talented cats, answered, & as we gather the weapons & map out the strategies, rest assured I'll be repping to the full, keeping it absolute, & taking my niggas (& niggettes) with me in to the stratosphere. Hopefully, y'all will continue to ride with your boy wherever this road is leading, because as I say like at least once a month, I do this shit for y'all. Talking to myself all day wouldn't hold quite as much weight, & people tend to shy away from schizophrenic dudes.
The schematics are still being worked out, so I'm going to let cats know when my first bomb drop's over there, but that's not going to change Reading & Writing, but rather expand the horizons & definitely make it do what it do. I guess I learned one more thing; important people notice you're grind when it's absolute. Or, in laymen's, real recognize real, if you will.
Happy new year, y'all.
Official announcement here:
http://daily-math.com/weblog/?p=2097
I'm not even really sure how to apply that to this, but mostly, a nigga's always wanted to say that in regards to myself. Ha!
Anyway, January 1st, & guess what? I have news to share...
I've been recruited for the war to bring truth, justice, & the (light-skinned African) American way to more screens, by way of Daily-Math.com.
The General himself, Combat Jack, has put together a team, in an effort to put boot to neck of this blog shit! Needless to say, I'm honored that he'd fuck with your boy in such a capacity, & I have something to truly appreciate in 2010, & I haven't even been awake an hour yet. As well as yours truly, there's:
Riggs Morales-former writer at The Source & A&R for Shady Records
Epiphany-of 'I Am The Life', at iamthelife.wordpress.com
Danja-of 'Danj Loves The 90's' at danjlovesthe90s.wordpress.com
Amp Geez-of 'Amplified Grammar' at amplifiedgrammar.blogspot.com
Dom Corleone-of 'Hold the Throne' at holdthethrone.com
Ice-of 'IceDotCom' at icedotcom.blogspot.com
He put the call out, & I, along with a handful of other talented cats, answered, & as we gather the weapons & map out the strategies, rest assured I'll be repping to the full, keeping it absolute, & taking my niggas (& niggettes) with me in to the stratosphere. Hopefully, y'all will continue to ride with your boy wherever this road is leading, because as I say like at least once a month, I do this shit for y'all. Talking to myself all day wouldn't hold quite as much weight, & people tend to shy away from schizophrenic dudes.
The schematics are still being worked out, so I'm going to let cats know when my first bomb drop's over there, but that's not going to change Reading & Writing, but rather expand the horizons & definitely make it do what it do. I guess I learned one more thing; important people notice you're grind when it's absolute. Or, in laymen's, real recognize real, if you will.
Happy new year, y'all.
Official announcement here:
http://daily-math.com/weblog/?p=2097
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
HOW TO CARRY WEED...
There's nothing wrong with having a down ass partner. & rightfully so, there's nothing wrong with being said partner. We all need those people, or need to be those people in life. It creates & sustains balance. Yin & yang, so to speak. A king isn't a king without servants & council, & thusly, servants & council are formless without a figurehead to fall behind. In the Hip Hop world, the main dude, commonly known as the star, the breadwinner or simply "the boss", has an entourage, full of various characters; yes men, "security", barbers, gophers, groupie getters, "the gay guy", etc. But at the top of that hierarchy of hanger-oners is the weed carrier. One doesn't become a weed carrier overnight. It takes years of unsolicited, fellatious behavior with no regard for one's own dignity, esteem, & in some cases, manhood. Most often, the weed carrier's career begins as the sidekick, the go-to man who has stayed loyal, & risen through the ranks of come & go faces, to be crowned the coveted spot next to the breadwinner of the operation. Benefits include: standing directly behind the star in most videos, accompanying the star out on stage during performances to cover all ad-libs & forgotten verses, spokesperson for the star when the star's not available, laughing at all the boss' jokes-especially in public, & lastly-carrying drugs, guns, &/or anything the star has no business carrying on his/her person. A faithful, studious weed carrier can parlay his/her skills as a professional lackey into various careers. Notice the similarities between the words "carrier" & "career". Just saying. Plenty of today's celebrities began as weed carriers, most noteworthy is Flavor Flav, who eventually shucked, jived, & cooned his way into super stardom, surpassing that of his boss, Chuck D. Flav single handedly changed the game, & epitomized the role as mega-sidekick extraordinaire, dancing &"Yeaaaah booooyeeeee"-ing his way through Public Enemy videos, albums, & concerts, eventually dropping lucid verses on politically charged songs that he had no business yelling on. The crowned jewel of that leg of his success being a cameo on Ice Cube's 'Only Out For One Thing', in 1990. Also, see umbrella holder Fonzworth Bentley, back seat rappers Tony Yayo & Spliff Star, & Memphis Bleek. When Flavor stepped into the limelight on his own, he left a big ass pair of clown shoes to fill. Enters Memphis Bleek. With Jay-Z on his back (sort of) & the future on his mind, fleeting success is an ad-lib & a co-sign away, & Bleek has perservered just long enough to see it through. Maybe.
Bleek is the consummate weed carrier. Actually, I'm sure Jay-Z traded weed for illegal cuban cigars sprinkled with hobo ashes a couple million dollars ago, but for conversational purposes, Memphis is a weed carrier. & a damn good one, at that. When discussing with others about business dealings with the boss, integrity should never take a backseat to humility. "We ain’t do nothing yet [for my new album]… One thing about me and Jay, we don’t do forced music… If that’s the case I’da been all over these last [Jay-Z] albums." Now, while he could've said, 'Nah, Jay won't call me back, but it's all good 'cuz he be busy & shit," he opted for the more diplomatic approach, so as not to step on toes &/or make himself uncomfortable the next time he asks for a "loan". That's a smart, well mannered man, undoubtedly with a plan. "It takes a while; you can’t just take over a empire overnight."
"I got this joint called ‘Forever Roc Boy,’ [and] he might, he might wanna get on that because where I’m going on that, man, niggas gonna be mad at me, baby." Any good weed carrier knows that he must not only taunt other possible baggage handlers as often as possible, but keep the boss guessing by wafting blanket statements of what he's got going on. If the boss thinks the weed carrier is growing complacent, he will surely, & swiftly replace him with the next eager beaver in line.
A weed carrier's position does come with some confusing times. One's identity is usually sacrificed in the process if they're not careful, cautious, & cognizant. Truly, only the strong can survive in such a menial capacity, all the while still looking forward to a grander scheme. "Being that Jay’s my brother, and we represent it and we really got that love for each other, he blessed me with the right to [be able] to own [the] rights to everything of Memphis Bleek right now and do my own thing, and where I would own my own masters and all that. Ain’t that what we worked for? So, that’s the best thing. If he achieved it, why not show me the same light. That’s my brother, right"? Notice the rhetorical questions & the symbiotic rambling, so he doesn't forget that he's still his own man, while haplessly suckling the teet that feeds him. That's nothing short of genius. Up & coming weed carriers should note the poise & grace demonstrated, it could be the difference boning the groupies, or going to get them more liquor to drink.
A legitimate weed carrier finds opportunities to praise the boss, simultaneously showing other's why he's the chosen one. "If you really pay attention, man, everybody running around like as if Jay owed us something. That man did all he could do for us. So it’s like, once everybody got they contracts terminated and went to make they own decisions and wanted to go they own way, you had to pick up where you left off and do your thing." Indeed. & his thing is, sticking close to what's good. How can anybody be mad at that?
While the fickle public observes the weed carriers role as useless, somewhat of a dead-end job for kiss asses, the weed carrier is intently focused, careful to pat his own back as much as he strokes the necessary amount of balls. "Like, my loyalty to Jay, definitely that’s something lost in the game. If you really just pay attention to my career, I been down with Jay from before Jay was Jay, when he was known as Shawn in the projects, I been rollin’ with him, ‘til now. We went from borrowing sugar from each other house to this dude - “Yo, let me hold a G5.” And nothing changed. That’s my dude". With the exception of Flavor Flav, & blame the rumors of crack smoking if you must, a weed carrier's responsibility always allows wiggle room for association. As often as possible. Such leverage exposes opportunities for self-promotion, without appearing mutinous. Tony Yayo once used such manuevers, until he decidedly opted to glamorize 50 Cent non-stop, which is clearly the more lucrative decision. Why waste time rapping, when you can be another man's live action billboard. In a perfect world, that's gotta count for something.
The basic element of weed carrying, which is somewhat of a lost art in today's cannibalistic rap world, is Kool-Aid sipping. Though it has evolved somewhat since (the real) Jim Jones perfected it decades ago, the premise remains unscathed. Love your leader, follow him blindly, & hold on tight, no matter how much he strings you along. That's the only way to be granted admission into the spaceship, per se. "I never been the guy who made a mistake, took a L, then be in the public eye whining about it, blaming, pointing fingers. I never been that guy neither. From all you ever seen me is, whether my homie’s right or wrong, he always been right in my eyes, and I’ma stand 100% by him". The sky's the limit when eggregious co-signing has no boundaries. If the book 'The 48 Laws Of Power' had an ass backwards, Bizzaro-world, dyslexic edition, it would surely be the weed carrier's survival guide.
When it's all said & done, the weed carrier's job is to make his boss shine, & let people know that, while somebody has got to do the waxing, it's all for a greater good. A feel good story about self-affirmation, with the breadwinner as the nucleus, is the weed carrier's best friend. It's like a publicity hand grenade, for when the talent bop gun gets low on ammunition.
"Like, let me tell you something that just happened recently, right, you know they just did the tenth anniversary photo shoot for Roc-A-Wear? So they called me to come down there and do the picture or whatever. The Roc-A-Wear people tried to pay me, like they had a check for me at the photo shoot. And I’m like, “Nah, I can’t take that check.” I think the check was like for between I think like $7,000 to $10,000. And I’m like, “I can’t take that check.” And the dude he like, “Yo, why not?” I’m like, “Nah ‘cause this my homie's company. Why my man gotta pay me just to take some pictures? Like, this my nigga! We from the [same] projects. You don’t have to pay me. [Doing] this is nothing.” So then Jay called me the next day like, “Yo Bleek, why you ain’t take the money?” I’m like, “Yo Hov, that’s like me stealing from you, just taking money from you, c’mon. What I did for you yesterday took 15 minutes out my day, you don’t have to pay me for that. I’ma get the money some other way.” And that nigga said to me, “Yo that’s why I love you, you one of the realest niggas ever, you would never meet nobody else in the world who would do that...And that’s just the loyalty I have to my team...I’m always for my team first".
Nowadays, niggas are quick to jump to the head of the class. Gone are the days when a dude would politely sit back, & wait, & wait, & wait, & wait, without any obvious signs of his time coming, anytime soon, but still hold it down for the team. Or more specifically, the boss. Memphis Bleek deserves a special place in Hip Hop for that sheer determination. He realizes that if he can't drive the Maybach, he can at least ride shotgun until he get's dropped off at home. & not a lot of hangers-on can say that, with misguided-yet adament pride, & still look in the mirror as men the next morning.
Giving credit where credit is due, Memph Bleek is...the GOAT (of weed carriers).
*with assistance from HipHopDX.com*
Bleek is the consummate weed carrier. Actually, I'm sure Jay-Z traded weed for illegal cuban cigars sprinkled with hobo ashes a couple million dollars ago, but for conversational purposes, Memphis is a weed carrier. & a damn good one, at that. When discussing with others about business dealings with the boss, integrity should never take a backseat to humility. "We ain’t do nothing yet [for my new album]… One thing about me and Jay, we don’t do forced music… If that’s the case I’da been all over these last [Jay-Z] albums." Now, while he could've said, 'Nah, Jay won't call me back, but it's all good 'cuz he be busy & shit," he opted for the more diplomatic approach, so as not to step on toes &/or make himself uncomfortable the next time he asks for a "loan". That's a smart, well mannered man, undoubtedly with a plan. "It takes a while; you can’t just take over a empire overnight."
"I got this joint called ‘Forever Roc Boy,’ [and] he might, he might wanna get on that because where I’m going on that, man, niggas gonna be mad at me, baby." Any good weed carrier knows that he must not only taunt other possible baggage handlers as often as possible, but keep the boss guessing by wafting blanket statements of what he's got going on. If the boss thinks the weed carrier is growing complacent, he will surely, & swiftly replace him with the next eager beaver in line.
A weed carrier's position does come with some confusing times. One's identity is usually sacrificed in the process if they're not careful, cautious, & cognizant. Truly, only the strong can survive in such a menial capacity, all the while still looking forward to a grander scheme. "Being that Jay’s my brother, and we represent it and we really got that love for each other, he blessed me with the right to [be able] to own [the] rights to everything of Memphis Bleek right now and do my own thing, and where I would own my own masters and all that. Ain’t that what we worked for? So, that’s the best thing. If he achieved it, why not show me the same light. That’s my brother, right"? Notice the rhetorical questions & the symbiotic rambling, so he doesn't forget that he's still his own man, while haplessly suckling the teet that feeds him. That's nothing short of genius. Up & coming weed carriers should note the poise & grace demonstrated, it could be the difference boning the groupies, or going to get them more liquor to drink.
A legitimate weed carrier finds opportunities to praise the boss, simultaneously showing other's why he's the chosen one. "If you really pay attention, man, everybody running around like as if Jay owed us something. That man did all he could do for us. So it’s like, once everybody got they contracts terminated and went to make they own decisions and wanted to go they own way, you had to pick up where you left off and do your thing." Indeed. & his thing is, sticking close to what's good. How can anybody be mad at that?
While the fickle public observes the weed carriers role as useless, somewhat of a dead-end job for kiss asses, the weed carrier is intently focused, careful to pat his own back as much as he strokes the necessary amount of balls. "Like, my loyalty to Jay, definitely that’s something lost in the game. If you really just pay attention to my career, I been down with Jay from before Jay was Jay, when he was known as Shawn in the projects, I been rollin’ with him, ‘til now. We went from borrowing sugar from each other house to this dude - “Yo, let me hold a G5.” And nothing changed. That’s my dude". With the exception of Flavor Flav, & blame the rumors of crack smoking if you must, a weed carrier's responsibility always allows wiggle room for association. As often as possible. Such leverage exposes opportunities for self-promotion, without appearing mutinous. Tony Yayo once used such manuevers, until he decidedly opted to glamorize 50 Cent non-stop, which is clearly the more lucrative decision. Why waste time rapping, when you can be another man's live action billboard. In a perfect world, that's gotta count for something.
The basic element of weed carrying, which is somewhat of a lost art in today's cannibalistic rap world, is Kool-Aid sipping. Though it has evolved somewhat since (the real) Jim Jones perfected it decades ago, the premise remains unscathed. Love your leader, follow him blindly, & hold on tight, no matter how much he strings you along. That's the only way to be granted admission into the spaceship, per se. "I never been the guy who made a mistake, took a L, then be in the public eye whining about it, blaming, pointing fingers. I never been that guy neither. From all you ever seen me is, whether my homie’s right or wrong, he always been right in my eyes, and I’ma stand 100% by him". The sky's the limit when eggregious co-signing has no boundaries. If the book 'The 48 Laws Of Power' had an ass backwards, Bizzaro-world, dyslexic edition, it would surely be the weed carrier's survival guide.
When it's all said & done, the weed carrier's job is to make his boss shine, & let people know that, while somebody has got to do the waxing, it's all for a greater good. A feel good story about self-affirmation, with the breadwinner as the nucleus, is the weed carrier's best friend. It's like a publicity hand grenade, for when the talent bop gun gets low on ammunition.
"Like, let me tell you something that just happened recently, right, you know they just did the tenth anniversary photo shoot for Roc-A-Wear? So they called me to come down there and do the picture or whatever. The Roc-A-Wear people tried to pay me, like they had a check for me at the photo shoot. And I’m like, “Nah, I can’t take that check.” I think the check was like for between I think like $7,000 to $10,000. And I’m like, “I can’t take that check.” And the dude he like, “Yo, why not?” I’m like, “Nah ‘cause this my homie's company. Why my man gotta pay me just to take some pictures? Like, this my nigga! We from the [same] projects. You don’t have to pay me. [Doing] this is nothing.” So then Jay called me the next day like, “Yo Bleek, why you ain’t take the money?” I’m like, “Yo Hov, that’s like me stealing from you, just taking money from you, c’mon. What I did for you yesterday took 15 minutes out my day, you don’t have to pay me for that. I’ma get the money some other way.” And that nigga said to me, “Yo that’s why I love you, you one of the realest niggas ever, you would never meet nobody else in the world who would do that...And that’s just the loyalty I have to my team...I’m always for my team first".
Nowadays, niggas are quick to jump to the head of the class. Gone are the days when a dude would politely sit back, & wait, & wait, & wait, & wait, without any obvious signs of his time coming, anytime soon, but still hold it down for the team. Or more specifically, the boss. Memphis Bleek deserves a special place in Hip Hop for that sheer determination. He realizes that if he can't drive the Maybach, he can at least ride shotgun until he get's dropped off at home. & not a lot of hangers-on can say that, with misguided-yet adament pride, & still look in the mirror as men the next morning.
Giving credit where credit is due, Memph Bleek is...the GOAT (of weed carriers).
*with assistance from HipHopDX.com*
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
*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.
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.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Some Coal For Your Stocking.
Or Merry Christmas, Motherfuckers!
How would you feel if, as a kid, you heard rumors of a happy, fat, possibly drunk White dude who, on Christmas Eve, goes from house to house to drop a load of goodies on good kids? To add to the legend, this guy has countless movies, TV shows & sightings, starting the day after Thanksgiving, so there's no doubt in your young mind that he exists. You may even see him at the mall or the grocery store with a friendly smile & an inviting lap, & even if your parents warned you about personal contact with costumed adults, they make an exception with this cat, even leading you by hand to receive his embrace. Really though, I'm not too partial to my own kids sitting on my lap, so one can't help but wonder about this type of guy's agenda. Never mind the fact that your "house" is covered in security bars & devoid of a chimney, urban mythology says that this clown will be there, satisfying all you material needs, no matter the obstacles. My aunt used to tell my cousins that Santa had a spare key, & that's how he got in. No dice. My uncle had the spare key, & in between crack cocaine binges & trips to the pawn shop, he was nowhere to be found. Anyway, if Santa's not there to deliver the goods, you're left with 364 days to ponder your apparent wrong doing, & correct your mistakes.
I was never allowed to buy into the Santa stereotype, as a kid. My father & mother worked damn hard all year long, too hard to hand over credit to some imaginary character for any possible happiness I may receive. That would be like if I was complemented on how cute I was as a kid by a stranger, them pointing at me, & saying "hey, he did all the work!" Some of my fondest Christmas memories are me looking at my gifts, & always finding a few that said "from Santa". Word? To my mom's credit, though, she used to drink a lot. Personally, I think the real reason the Santa myth was created was to be a convenient scapegoat for the masses. Not only could immeasurable amounts of children's behaviors be modified, but if mom &/or dad can't afford gifts, blame it on Santa, or in essence, the kids themselves. That's some fucked up shit.
"Sorry Propecia, I guess you were bad this year. Santa didn't bring you anything."
Maybe my parents did themselves a disservice by not letting me believe; perhaps they would've saved tons of money Hot Wheels race car tracks & gadgets that wouldn't survive to see the summer. I've always been fascinated by how America chooses to "control" it's child populous by means of boogie men, but fear is indeed a powerful tool in brainwashi-I mean leadership. Santa may have been the lower classes "get out of Christmas free" card, & they didn't know it. Goes to show the long reach of capitalism, word to Valentine's Day. The whole ideology behind gift-giving is for the gifter to express to the giftee whatever sentiment is implied. In laymen's terms, I want you to know that it's from me.
Or, as my dad always said, "Santa Claus my ass..."
& to think, on a day sanctioned to celebrate Jesus Christ, we expected to buy our bad ass kids $200 worth of reward. I say, fuck Santa, fuck Christmas, & buy your kids all the bull shit they deserve when they deserve it, i.e. good grades. If, as a society, it's up to a stranger to motivate our kids to be the best they can be, we are failing miserably.
When my kids were small, we would go outside & look at the neighborhood Christmas lights on our block. One year, one of them asked me where our Christmas lights were. I pointed at our house, & said "you see those lights on in the house? Merry Christmas." A little later, they unwrapped dinner. All jokes aside, although I've never celebrated what some would call a traditional Christmas, I've always attempted to make sure my kids were happy when they woke up that morning. My parents did it for me, so if nothing else, it's a learned response. Condition stimulus, if you will. A psychological reaction to ambient jingle bells & faux snowfall draped over anything from store window displays to front yard nativity scenes. But, also, as tradition demands, my kids have never received a present from Santa. You haven't lived until you've watched a requisite Christmas movie with a sarcastic six year old who knows better than to believe in this St. Nicholas dude.
Sometimes I forget how gullible & naïve people can be, in regards to what real life is. My son & I were having a rather detailed conversation one day, in a Burger King, about how & why people allow their kids to believe in Santa. I never stopped to survey the folks around us, which there was quite a few, & a mother decided to not only listen, but include herself into our conversation. In front of her kid, she started actually rationalizing why Santa might be real. Instead of dismissing her with a "crazy bitch" label, I engaged in the conversation, with the same intensity as I did with my child. Her final statement, obviously out of sheer frustration was, "Well, you gotta let a kid be a kid though, right?", to which I replied "True, & I teach mine not to lie. What type of example would I be if I didn't follow that simple instruction?". He son was intently listening the entire time. End game.
Happy holidays, people.
How would you feel if, as a kid, you heard rumors of a happy, fat, possibly drunk White dude who, on Christmas Eve, goes from house to house to drop a load of goodies on good kids? To add to the legend, this guy has countless movies, TV shows & sightings, starting the day after Thanksgiving, so there's no doubt in your young mind that he exists. You may even see him at the mall or the grocery store with a friendly smile & an inviting lap, & even if your parents warned you about personal contact with costumed adults, they make an exception with this cat, even leading you by hand to receive his embrace. Really though, I'm not too partial to my own kids sitting on my lap, so one can't help but wonder about this type of guy's agenda. Never mind the fact that your "house" is covered in security bars & devoid of a chimney, urban mythology says that this clown will be there, satisfying all you material needs, no matter the obstacles. My aunt used to tell my cousins that Santa had a spare key, & that's how he got in. No dice. My uncle had the spare key, & in between crack cocaine binges & trips to the pawn shop, he was nowhere to be found. Anyway, if Santa's not there to deliver the goods, you're left with 364 days to ponder your apparent wrong doing, & correct your mistakes.
I was never allowed to buy into the Santa stereotype, as a kid. My father & mother worked damn hard all year long, too hard to hand over credit to some imaginary character for any possible happiness I may receive. That would be like if I was complemented on how cute I was as a kid by a stranger, them pointing at me, & saying "hey, he did all the work!" Some of my fondest Christmas memories are me looking at my gifts, & always finding a few that said "from Santa". Word? To my mom's credit, though, she used to drink a lot. Personally, I think the real reason the Santa myth was created was to be a convenient scapegoat for the masses. Not only could immeasurable amounts of children's behaviors be modified, but if mom &/or dad can't afford gifts, blame it on Santa, or in essence, the kids themselves. That's some fucked up shit.
"Sorry Propecia, I guess you were bad this year. Santa didn't bring you anything."
Maybe my parents did themselves a disservice by not letting me believe; perhaps they would've saved tons of money Hot Wheels race car tracks & gadgets that wouldn't survive to see the summer. I've always been fascinated by how America chooses to "control" it's child populous by means of boogie men, but fear is indeed a powerful tool in brainwashi-I mean leadership. Santa may have been the lower classes "get out of Christmas free" card, & they didn't know it. Goes to show the long reach of capitalism, word to Valentine's Day. The whole ideology behind gift-giving is for the gifter to express to the giftee whatever sentiment is implied. In laymen's terms, I want you to know that it's from me.
Or, as my dad always said, "Santa Claus my ass..."
& to think, on a day sanctioned to celebrate Jesus Christ, we expected to buy our bad ass kids $200 worth of reward. I say, fuck Santa, fuck Christmas, & buy your kids all the bull shit they deserve when they deserve it, i.e. good grades. If, as a society, it's up to a stranger to motivate our kids to be the best they can be, we are failing miserably.
When my kids were small, we would go outside & look at the neighborhood Christmas lights on our block. One year, one of them asked me where our Christmas lights were. I pointed at our house, & said "you see those lights on in the house? Merry Christmas." A little later, they unwrapped dinner. All jokes aside, although I've never celebrated what some would call a traditional Christmas, I've always attempted to make sure my kids were happy when they woke up that morning. My parents did it for me, so if nothing else, it's a learned response. Condition stimulus, if you will. A psychological reaction to ambient jingle bells & faux snowfall draped over anything from store window displays to front yard nativity scenes. But, also, as tradition demands, my kids have never received a present from Santa. You haven't lived until you've watched a requisite Christmas movie with a sarcastic six year old who knows better than to believe in this St. Nicholas dude.
Sometimes I forget how gullible & naïve people can be, in regards to what real life is. My son & I were having a rather detailed conversation one day, in a Burger King, about how & why people allow their kids to believe in Santa. I never stopped to survey the folks around us, which there was quite a few, & a mother decided to not only listen, but include herself into our conversation. In front of her kid, she started actually rationalizing why Santa might be real. Instead of dismissing her with a "crazy bitch" label, I engaged in the conversation, with the same intensity as I did with my child. Her final statement, obviously out of sheer frustration was, "Well, you gotta let a kid be a kid though, right?", to which I replied "True, & I teach mine not to lie. What type of example would I be if I didn't follow that simple instruction?". He son was intently listening the entire time. End game.
Happy holidays, people.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Bran Flakes
For what it's worth, Nicki Minaj is eye candy. Don't know how bright she is, not really concerned about how well she raps, but if nothing else, she can take her shirt off & do some jumping jacks, & all would be good. Can I get an amen? That's the role of the female rapper these days. Soft porn with a voice over. & who knows, maybe Remy Ma is penning super-raps in between doing push-ups & taking soups & spreads from lesser hoes, but with all the bitchassness in Hip Hop, we really don't NEED females to rap, per se. I, for one, can only spend but so much time in a sausage factory, & would appreciate the ladies touch, but these days it's either skank skeezer or dyke butch. Or, an odd combination of the two, which just takes me right back to all the rap dudes who have vaginises.
[tony's note: vaginas + penises =...]
So, what would you do if you were a semi-famous, out of work r&b starlette? Well of course, try to satisfy Hip Hop's feminine void. That's where 'Bran Nu' steps into the game. Y'all might remember her as Fredro Starr's jump-off, Moesha, from the "hit" TV series 'Moesha'. The show with the two fat chicks & the post-Urkel, pre-Jordan geeky black kid with huge ears. He never did grow into them joints. Brandy Norwood, Rodney Jerkins' ex-wife, is throwing her weave into the ring as an MC. Why, you ask? It may have something to do with 'Moesha' not being in syndication anymore, or that song 'I wanna be down' was a cry for Hip Hip acceptance. Either way, I don't see much transpiring from this.
Maybe she saw Drake singing, acting & rapping, & figured she's a big enough star to pull off the trifecta as well. She has a rappity-rap song on Timbaland's latest release, 'Shock Value 2', but where the hell is Magoo? I'd much rather hear him humpty-dumpty his way across futuristic triple-time drum sequences than the other girl from 'The Boy Is Mine'. Monica has a TV show. & so does her brother, Ray J. Just saying.
“What I’m doing on the album is a little bit different than what everybody knows me for. It was a great experience. I got a chance to be another part of myself,”- Brandy via AllHipHop.com
If I was her, I'd get some breast implants & the best ghostwriter coochie can buy. Otherwise, this may go down as a horrible career move. Again, Monica has a TV show. Mediocre rapstresses are nothing new, plus it's hard to follow behind the imprints left by Lyte, L-Boogie, Lil Kim & Fox Brown. The main factor in being a femcee is "sexability" these days, & in all my years of watching 'Moesha' (y'all niggas watched it, too!), I never once thought to myself, "word, I wanna hit that". Yes hetero. What's she going to rap about anyway? Gunning down fellow lady rappers? No dice. Sex? Eh. Women's liberation? Look, if I wanted to hear a Black chick yammer about the fruits of equality, I'd call my grandmother while she's watching Oprah Windbag.
Think about it: Jean Grae can't make it because the game doesn't respect her. Nicki Minaj won't make it because the people don't respect her. Where would Moesha fit in to this cycle? If I don't like Coke & can't stomach 7-up, then I damn sure don't want that generic grocery store sugar water. Watered down r&b songs are user-friendly. However, watered down Hip Hop is an attack on my intelligence. Then again, she could be opening up a whole new market: Menstrual flow. & for a week each month, while women bleed, bloat & bitch, she can provide a soundtrack. Kind of like how 'Coke Rap' comes off really well between the 1st & the 15th every single month, no doubt about it.
Being a female rap star is hard enough with certain aspects working FOR you. I guess she doesn't follow rap music that closely.
[tony's note: vaginas + penises =...]
So, what would you do if you were a semi-famous, out of work r&b starlette? Well of course, try to satisfy Hip Hop's feminine void. That's where 'Bran Nu' steps into the game. Y'all might remember her as Fredro Starr's jump-off, Moesha, from the "hit" TV series 'Moesha'. The show with the two fat chicks & the post-Urkel, pre-Jordan geeky black kid with huge ears. He never did grow into them joints. Brandy Norwood, Rodney Jerkins' ex-wife, is throwing her weave into the ring as an MC. Why, you ask? It may have something to do with 'Moesha' not being in syndication anymore, or that song 'I wanna be down' was a cry for Hip Hip acceptance. Either way, I don't see much transpiring from this.
Maybe she saw Drake singing, acting & rapping, & figured she's a big enough star to pull off the trifecta as well. She has a rappity-rap song on Timbaland's latest release, 'Shock Value 2', but where the hell is Magoo? I'd much rather hear him humpty-dumpty his way across futuristic triple-time drum sequences than the other girl from 'The Boy Is Mine'. Monica has a TV show. & so does her brother, Ray J. Just saying.
“What I’m doing on the album is a little bit different than what everybody knows me for. It was a great experience. I got a chance to be another part of myself,”- Brandy via AllHipHop.com
If I was her, I'd get some breast implants & the best ghostwriter coochie can buy. Otherwise, this may go down as a horrible career move. Again, Monica has a TV show. Mediocre rapstresses are nothing new, plus it's hard to follow behind the imprints left by Lyte, L-Boogie, Lil Kim & Fox Brown. The main factor in being a femcee is "sexability" these days, & in all my years of watching 'Moesha' (y'all niggas watched it, too!), I never once thought to myself, "word, I wanna hit that". Yes hetero. What's she going to rap about anyway? Gunning down fellow lady rappers? No dice. Sex? Eh. Women's liberation? Look, if I wanted to hear a Black chick yammer about the fruits of equality, I'd call my grandmother while she's watching Oprah Windbag.
Think about it: Jean Grae can't make it because the game doesn't respect her. Nicki Minaj won't make it because the people don't respect her. Where would Moesha fit in to this cycle? If I don't like Coke & can't stomach 7-up, then I damn sure don't want that generic grocery store sugar water. Watered down r&b songs are user-friendly. However, watered down Hip Hop is an attack on my intelligence. Then again, she could be opening up a whole new market: Menstrual flow. & for a week each month, while women bleed, bloat & bitch, she can provide a soundtrack. Kind of like how 'Coke Rap' comes off really well between the 1st & the 15th every single month, no doubt about it.
Being a female rap star is hard enough with certain aspects working FOR you. I guess she doesn't follow rap music that closely.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
a Tiger in the doghouse
How long did Tiger think this fantastic voyage would last?
Certain forces cannot be contained forever. Especially one with such fortitude & resilience as being a Black man, regardless of what other race he's cut with. Tiger stopped acting like a Black man years ago, but there was never any denying that he's a nigga, through & through. All that Nike money helped replace menthol loosies with Cuban hand-rolled cigars, & backyard bbq's are now literal backyard golf tourneys, but high society snobbery is no match for nigganomics. That type shit is universal, like the word "no".
When Tiger Woods first burst on the scene, the commotion wasn't from his god-like golfing ability, but rather is dual ethnicity. What began as murmurs of "How dare this jigaboo play our game so well?" evolved into "Oh, he's only half-Black. Never mind, it's cool". & like that, America forgot that it's newest, club-swinging sweetheart was in fact a Black dude. For the longest, I really didn't see what was all that "Black" about him until I saw his Snow Bunny wife. If getting rich & wifing a white chick doesn't scream "successful Black athlete", then I don't know what does.
[tony's note: wife whips that ass for cheating, busts out your car window & not snitching on her=nigga shit...]
See, I call it the "Werewolf Theory". No matter how white-washed & multicultural a brother may be, certain situations are like a nigga full moon (Wesley Snipes, anyone?). Enhanced White chicks notwithstanding. For all we know, Tiger has his own Popeye's built into his mansion. That would possibly explain why he always appears to have eaten his chap stick. Chicken grease is the most hardbody lip gloss ever. I've seen that shit go head up against Ivory soap & emerge victorious.
The White women are out the bag, the police are lurking around, Tiger has no choice but to sip some cognac & let the transformation take place. What goes ignored, however, is that he's half Asian also. Theoretically, he's probably 3 steps ahead of the cops by now, with scientific notions & mathematic equations to keep his boo out of harm's way, like any real nigga would.
In all his successful year's as America's poster boy mulatto, he might've forgotten that he was half-Black. I'm sure he was reminded as his wife haymaker'd him & chased him down their luxurious driveway with one of his signature golf clubs in tow, though. & I'm positive the sentence "Ya Black ass!" had to be muttered at least once. It's only right. She must not be familiar with the beloved antics of one Orenthal James Simpson. Or maybe even she forgot he was par Black as well, & by the time she remembered, it's was too late.
Now Tiger has called off of his own Tournament. I guess that was easier than wearing some big ass sunglasses to hide the black eye she gave him. Domestic violence is real people, & if you don't believe Tiger's doctors, ask Al Green's face. Then again, this could all be one big misunderstanding, & if that's the case, then Tiger my money's on Tiger being a tremendous closet drunk, & it's the White woman who truly came to his rescue. Which is probably why he got with her in the first place.
Certain forces cannot be contained forever. Especially one with such fortitude & resilience as being a Black man, regardless of what other race he's cut with. Tiger stopped acting like a Black man years ago, but there was never any denying that he's a nigga, through & through. All that Nike money helped replace menthol loosies with Cuban hand-rolled cigars, & backyard bbq's are now literal backyard golf tourneys, but high society snobbery is no match for nigganomics. That type shit is universal, like the word "no".
When Tiger Woods first burst on the scene, the commotion wasn't from his god-like golfing ability, but rather is dual ethnicity. What began as murmurs of "How dare this jigaboo play our game so well?" evolved into "Oh, he's only half-Black. Never mind, it's cool". & like that, America forgot that it's newest, club-swinging sweetheart was in fact a Black dude. For the longest, I really didn't see what was all that "Black" about him until I saw his Snow Bunny wife. If getting rich & wifing a white chick doesn't scream "successful Black athlete", then I don't know what does.
[tony's note: wife whips that ass for cheating, busts out your car window & not snitching on her=nigga shit...]
See, I call it the "Werewolf Theory". No matter how white-washed & multicultural a brother may be, certain situations are like a nigga full moon (Wesley Snipes, anyone?). Enhanced White chicks notwithstanding. For all we know, Tiger has his own Popeye's built into his mansion. That would possibly explain why he always appears to have eaten his chap stick. Chicken grease is the most hardbody lip gloss ever. I've seen that shit go head up against Ivory soap & emerge victorious.
The White women are out the bag, the police are lurking around, Tiger has no choice but to sip some cognac & let the transformation take place. What goes ignored, however, is that he's half Asian also. Theoretically, he's probably 3 steps ahead of the cops by now, with scientific notions & mathematic equations to keep his boo out of harm's way, like any real nigga would.
In all his successful year's as America's poster boy mulatto, he might've forgotten that he was half-Black. I'm sure he was reminded as his wife haymaker'd him & chased him down their luxurious driveway with one of his signature golf clubs in tow, though. & I'm positive the sentence "Ya Black ass!" had to be muttered at least once. It's only right. She must not be familiar with the beloved antics of one Orenthal James Simpson. Or maybe even she forgot he was par Black as well, & by the time she remembered, it's was too late.
Now Tiger has called off of his own Tournament. I guess that was easier than wearing some big ass sunglasses to hide the black eye she gave him. Domestic violence is real people, & if you don't believe Tiger's doctors, ask Al Green's face. Then again, this could all be one big misunderstanding, & if that's the case, then Tiger my money's on Tiger being a tremendous closet drunk, & it's the White woman who truly came to his rescue. Which is probably why he got with her in the first place.
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