• » Name: Meka Soul
• » Location: Los Angeles, CA
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	June 2007
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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

The South Lost

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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