• » Name: Meka Soul
• » Location: Los Angeles, CA
• » Member Since: 04/09/07
• » Bio: Providing clarity in hip-hop since 1981.
• » Contact Me:
• » Syndicate: RSS

• » Memphis Bleek: Hoe, Sit Down Edition
• » Who Really Cares If Rick Ross Was A Cop Or Not?
• » Yung Berg Lost
• » Goofies, Monkeys And Doofies
• » The Nerve Of Those Tall Israelis

	August 2007
S	M	T	W	T	F	S
			1	2	3	4
5	6	7	8	9	10	11
12	13	14	15	16	17	18
19	20	21	22	23	24	25
26	27	28	29	30	31
« Jul					Sep »

• » Gangstarr Girl
• » Dah Shyt
• » 2 Dope Boyz
• » Dallas Penn
• » Plastic Squirtguns

Slap-Boxing With Jesus

Jesus Turns 100

So in between loading up the printers at my job with paper and praying that I don’t get attacked by a zombie crackhead when I go home one faceless April day, I received an email from one of my esteemed overlords searching for writers for this fledgling section they’re creating on this section of the Internets. Needless to say, I replied back, and the rest, as you can say, is history.

Throughout the bigoted rants, racist banter, homophobic jibba jabba, snide comments and overall fucked-up shit I’ve spewed here, I’ve reached a plateau I thought I’d never attain, what with me assuming I’d get bored with writing (again), or I’d get cut loose for saying everything short of “Fuck Buddha!” in my posts. But here I am, a hundred blogs deep, and I’ve not gotten tired of this shit yet.

The main reason I’ve continued to write even during the most strenuous of times is due to the inspiration I derive from my fellow torchbearers here. So, to celebrate this particular occasion, I’d like to run down a shorthand list of said muses.

Andreas’ willingness to take a(nother) chance on me. Most of you don’t know that I started my journalism career here back in late 2004. Unfortunately, thanks to a combination of the pressures of entertainment politics (having to write shit to appease your advertising bottom line will fuck with your conscience) and the fact I’d been through six shitty jobs in eight months, I shut down and didn’t pick up a pen for two years. Oddly enough, despite the fact I hadn’t written anything in so long, I still received opportunities. Starting over from scratch is a tough road, but at least one person was dumb enough to stick with me for so long. And who knows: if it weren’t for Dre recharging the battery in my back, I probably wouldn't revel in the negative attention I receive in that little section below this shit.

J-23's infamous Reginald Dennis interview. The tipping point of DX. After reading this exposé, I made it a personal mission to shake J’s hand for this shit whenever I got the chance, and I was fortunate enough to do so three weeks ago at Rock The Bells.

Brillyance’s blunt honesty. In my opinion, this is the best columnist on this site. Mixing a philosophical sense on life with hip-hop ideals, Brills has the makings to be one of the best hip-hop writers today. Where the fuck are those Friday unheard artist posts, though?

Shake’s never-ending knowledge of music. If you think you know a lot about music, you’ve obviously never met the walking Wikipedia that is Shake. In the two days we hung out, he put me on to so many sounds that I actually felt like an idiot for not knowing them. Not to mention, duke has one of the flyest chicks in the game wearing his chain.

aliya's lesbian relationship with hip-hop. Honestly, if you haven’t read this piece, take two of deez and go play in traffic. It’s nice to know that there are women who are as passionate about the craft as their male counterparts. Speaking of which...

The fashion sensibilities of Soopa Starr and A.H.L.O.T. These gear innovators are part of the reason I’m trying to get the fuck out of the land of Chucks and khaki pants. Honestly, Los Angeles needs to step their game up, because a grown-ass man rocking a pair of Dickies and a conk all day hasn’t been dope since Snoop Dogg shot the shit out of his weed carrier 12 years ago and got away with it.

Donwill's Lessondary Radio show. This is basically the only radio show I’ll tune into. If more stations were like this one, we probably would have a lot more smarter, virgin teenagers today. Not to mention, I've been blasting "Ode To Tanya" for the better part of this year regularly.

J. Burnett’s humor. Opinions reminds me so much of me, it was easy to see why we got into it [||] earlier on. Apologies for not being able to help out on your Speaker Mag project, though; when you essentially work two jobs it’s hard to find time for it unfortunately.

William Ketchums’ hustle. While it’s glaringly obvious that Ketchums and I prefer to stay in our respective lanes, I will say that I do respect the man’s drive and grind. Besides, beefing with a co-worker of sorts can never be good for hip-hop in the first place.

If there’s anybody I forgot, know you that you have my props & respect regardless. DX is the past, present and the motherfucking future. Act accordingly.

***

I guess I should mention that this is my last post for the next couple days, as I’ll be taking a well-deserved break from reality in New York (oh my God (Danger!)) until Monday (hence, the unusually early post). If anyone out East is interested in getting insulted face-to-face by, building with and/or impregnated by me while I’m there, feel free to hit me on the email addy below my all-seeing eye.

108 Comments             

Stop Skeemin’, And Lookin’ Hard

While I was marking my territory in the opinionated realm of the women’s movement last week (which I’ve come to realize as a moot point, since I could write a dissertation on why women are superior than men and have the shit shot down all because I have a pair of nuts at my waist), the most telltale response I noticed regarding men was that because they’re determined to the world how “independent” they are by yelling it out a window and such, those women believe that – in their own magically delicious world – the majority, if not all, men out there are nothing more than either lazy bumfucks who constantly knock women up then dip out come child support time, or fraudulent super thugs that push more weight than Kelly Price before the diet and get their rocks off slapping nappy-headed hoes through windows.

"I swear to God I'm going to pistol whip the next person that says ‘shenanigans’"...

I could go on and easily correlate that inane theory to the fact that any woman who honestly believes that is not only single, but also fucked up in the head and in dire need of a self-esteem boost, but then I’d probably just end up shitting on whatever dwindling attractiveness women have for me. And I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen.

It doesn’t take rocket science to realize how asinine and wrong this train of thought is. While it’s true that more women are “manning up” in the work and family forces, it’s somewhat depressing to see that the improvements and progressions of the male species are pushed aside almost to a point of irrelevance, which is wrong on a variety of levels. I think I can speak on behalf of the Adam’s Apple-having contingent that for every hard-working, strong-willed woman running around in this society, there is an equally proficient man who did not have to resort to drug sales and petty thug theatrics to become successful as well. I know I’ve never had to pop a cannon or sell some crack to get to where I am today (although there were those couple times I gave blood to pay for my college tuition, but I digress), and while I’m no big-shot executive (I can’t even run a triangle offense in NBA Live, for fuck’s sakes) I’ve done pretty well for myself.

But perhaps that misguided reasoning stems from the mental brainwashing men and women receive from today’s media. When I stayed home because of a cold a few weeks ago, I couldn’t help but notice the over-abundance of caricatures on the so-called channel for the Black people, BET, where either the average guy was a six-pack exposing, greased-up pretty boy with a waxed chest, or a muumuu-wearing, crack-dealing soldier with more chains around their neck than Kunta Kinte had in his prime. While it’s laughable to think that these images are an accurate depiction of today’s man, it also came to me that the CEO of Bojangles Entertainment Television is a woman. Knowing that this person is essentially in charge of all programming on the shitbag excuse of a network, it makes me believe that either she is a scorned old hag, not unlike Terry McMillan (boy is she pissed!), determined to make all men feel the wrath from her failures in finding the right man to stuff her monkey properly by primarily showing visuals that make guys look like fools, or an underwear-with-the-dickhole-wearing lesbian who wouldn’t know what a real man was if he plopped his junk on her forehead. For my future’s sake, I pray I’m wrong this time.

331 Comments             

Dog Fighting vs. Dove Hunting

With Michael Vick’s plea today, effectively ending his spectacular fall from grace, Mighty Casey hit me up to share his thoughts. And in my never-ending quest to change the world, I completely forgot about the racially charged situation of the Jena 6. If you haven’t hit up J. Burnett’s blog and done something about it, click the link below, sign the petition (which I did last week) and help stop the bullshit. Hip-Hop has more power than you think...

http://www.colorofchange.org/jena/

I know in previous blogs I’ve criticized our young Hip-hop generation and put us partially to blame for a lot of the media scrutiny we endure. I’ve never denied that the government is much worse than the state of hip-hop regardless of the crack selling coonery that masquerades itself as hip-hop, any negative influence it has on the country is minimal compared to the Iraq war and Bushes other policies that have incarcerated, undereducated and generally oppressed. This is not to justify hip-hop’s behavior I remember at time when Hip-hop would criticize the violence, materialism, and arrogance of the government rather than emulate it. Rappers like 50 Cent and TI have pointed their finger at the government when confronted on the negativity of their lyrics just as Don Imus pointed the finger at hip-hop when confronted on the negativity of his comments. Given the number of high profile young black males in the spotlight for negative activity, Michael Vick, Pacman Jones, Barry Bonds, every other rapper.  One might think that White House Boy genius Karl Rove has used his power over the media to use young big scary looking black guys as scapegoats to distract the American public, never mind the millions dying in Iraq, black males in the USA are taking steroids, fighting dogs and we have good information from British intelligence that they are…making it rain.

    Which brings me to Bushes brain Mr. Rove himself. While still controlling the Republican Party he has unfortunately retired from the Bush administration. Up 1st on his agenda after leaving office, apologizing for the war? Nope dedicating life to public service? Nope. Dove Hunting. Not a misprint. Those innocent white birds that are meant to be a symbol for peace, the bird Noah sent off the ark to find land, the bird Ozzy Osbourne bid the head off, Karl Rove kills them for fun. Ironically enough the same day that it was revealed the MC Rove enjoys smoking nice white doves for his enjoyment Michael Vick was indicted for dog fighting. While Michael Vick has caused a media maelstrom with his tangential association to dog fighting, Karl Rove is free to kill little innocent peace loving Doves without even a murmur from the media. Never mind the irony and symbolism of the architect for the Iraq war killing the international symbol of peace for fun, like a James Bond villain, how can Karl Rove get away with killing innocent animals with a gun, while Vick can’t enjoy two dogs who would fight regardless maul each other. Maybe because of the strong history of manly American men killing animals like Bambi’s mother. Then again how manly is it to kill a Dove? If Rove really wants to be manly he should try and hunt Vicks pitbulls. That would put a little pressure on him to actually hit them 1st cuz if you miss when you shoot a pitbull your pretty ass out. Maybe if Rove wanted to hunt and feel manly he should do NYC a service and hunt all the rats in the subway, no one likes rats I’m sure PETA wouldn’t even fuck with him. Speaking of PETA how come they aren’t picketing outside Karl Rove’s house? Its cool to kill doves but watching dogs fight oh god no. Its amazes me that people actually protested Michael Vick as if humans aren’t dying for no reason everyday and not even entertaining anyone. Where do they cross the line will they picket outside my house cuz I stomped a roach or 2 (or 3 or 4), will they subpoena my computer because I YouTubed "lion attacks" a couple times.

 If we can watch humans beat each other into a bloody pulp on UFC and the occasional good boxing match, why can’t we watch pitbulls fight? Its not like they wouldn’t be fighting if we weren’t there. Maybe if we’d allowed more pitbulls to fight each other, they wouldn’t be out killing 2-year-old girls and Ving Rhames' gardener.  Its funny how the media tries to play pitbulls as a black, hip-hop thing. I’m sure pitbulls were originally bred by white people to keep black people off their property, now that black people have them they want to take away our fun. The fact that Vick allegedly bred pitbulls is no worse than the rich white people who breed poodles, and all sorts of other weird looking dogs for their personal decorations. Maybe it’s the warrior in me but if I were a dog, I’d rather die fighting living as one of Michael Vick’s pits, than suffer the humiliation of living as Paris Hilton’s little decorative poodles.

If the media would scrutinize the government the same way they scrutinize young black males (both in sports and music) maybe they might’ve been able to stop this shitstorm of a policy we call the Iraq wars. Maybe assholes like George Bush, Dick Cheney and Karl Rove would actually have to face some accountability, if the media as Barry Bonds, Michael Vick and Snoop Dog as closely covered them. , Maybe the American public would realize what evil, dishonest greedy dove killers these so called freedom loving Christians actually are. Where mainstream media outlets like Fox news have made it their niche to criticize black athletes and rappers, their corporate funded blind eye to the various Bush administration scandals, like Katrina, Abu Ghraib, Valerie Plame, shows a high level of media hypocrisy. I think in order for us to progress, people who know about Hip-hop and are a part of the Hip-hop community should be criticizing what’s wrong with amongst ourselves, and the media which is supposed to enlighten people to what’s going on in the world, should be letting the world know what’s going on specifically what assholes our leaders are and how they fucked up the world, and leave Lil Wayne and Michael Vick to Hip Hop DX and ESPN. I know a lot of the white house scandals aren’t as simple as Hip-hop’s drug, guns and sex crimes (nice), I think we have one now these motherfuckers kill DOVES people DOVES. You can’t get anymore clear-cut than that; these people kill peace-loving animals for enjoyment.

135 Comments             

Mixtapes > Albums

So, dig this: I'm taking a sort-of backseat for the next two days, as a couple of my brethren wanted to share their thoughts with you all. Kicking things off is the proprietor of the best blog you humps should be adding to your bookmarks, Dah Shyt's own Belize...

Aside from a list I made previously, I have never properly introduced myself to you. The name I go by is Belize (a), proudly representing the immaculate country I was raised in. I am quite humble to be able to post on not only HipHopDx, but especially Meka’s section – gotta respect his grind. So before I proceed I wanna send a short kite to any blogger, commenter or anybody else that has given me any form of respect in the past - respect is given back homie.

Ok, now that I got that out of the way, I want to pre-warn you that this post may be a lil long - but smoke with me and follow my lead (no Boo-Boo).

When I state that mixtapes > albums, I am not saying that I won’t purchase a CD, shyyyyyt, I’m bout to go buy that new UGK right now (b). What I’m saying is that the substance and importance in Hip Hop music has been lost and now CD’s are not a source for food right now. You see, the industry has changed so much that many people forget that adapting to your environment is a necessary tactic. Before MP3’s were able to be sent via the internet, most artists were able to show their skills through mixtapes, but their ability to make an album was usually evaluated through an EP (c). With the spark of the digital age, many artists turned to mixtapes, especially after many witnessed how Fifty was able to use it to his advantage. Now presently, yes there is an over saturation  of mixtapes, but if you isolate the average “mixtape” that contains a conglomerate of underground and mainstream artists, you will see that the freedom in hip hop is now seen in artist developed mixtapes.

One of the first arguments I get from people is: “I’ve heard that beat before.” Ummm…so? If an artist is able recreate a piece of work and make it into something better (d), then does that not make you appreciate their craft? If they do it for no profit, that should make you love Hip-Hop.

The second argument I get is production. Ok I understand, but learn to pick mixtapes. If you got a mixtape from an unnamed/unsigned artist, of course its not gonna be the best quality- that why their trying to get signed! Advance money is for you to create the best product possible (under a budget), not for you to show the world how to ball. Do you want to be the next Cap-One? Didn’t think so. If you want quality mixtapes, look at the DJ and the Artist. If its DJ ImGonnaBlow, his “best of” tape is probably hosted by the artist; however if it’s a Green Lantern, Clinton Sparks, etc...etc.., chances are that they don’t want to be seen in the realm of bad production (e). Basically, be a smart shopper.

A downside to albums, for me, is the lack of creativity. Many artists do not have the freedom to say or develop a song the they want to, after all it’s a job, and if your employer wants you to do something required in your job (in this case, selling cd’s), making a corny song may be the only way to keep food on your baby’s plate. Unfortunately, I am not a sucker. Days of me buying a CD based on singles, are over- I am going back to “word of  mouth“ (nhjic). If you go buy something and you’re getting less than your value every time – what do you do? You scratch that spot off your list. Going back to the store to get hustled is not cool – its called being a crackhead – and nobody wants your cheeseburgers. On the flip side, on the mixtape scene you can be as political (f), gangsta (g), or you can just teach these company’s how to run their shyt (h). Sometimes it’s the only album we get(i).

Now before I head out and let Mek get back to what he does best, I want to say that if you see an unknown artist’s mixtape – don’t ignore it. Usually they are free and just a hungry artist trying to survive in a game that can appear to be a maze. You never know you may find a gem, just imagine if nobody picked up Infinity by Eminem. (j)

(a)  I didn’t not chose the name, if that is your first perception, but since us Belizeans are rare to find in any state other that MIA, NYC, LA and TX, my friends could never remember any other name but the place I rep. Contrary to popular belief I am not ignorant, I just smoke a lot.

(b) And I think that’s it this year unless I get that new Wu…I don’t trust you artists no more.

(c) While I’m on that subject... remember those singles in the stores that you would buy before the CD? Yup, those are ring tones.

(d) Better lyrics, better hook, better delivery. Nuff said.

(e) Some of them are trying to be producers themselves.

(f) Imagine if Immortal Technique didn’t have mixtapes?

(g) Imagine if Children Of the Corn never had a mixtape?

(h)  Rap Phenomenon 1 > Any BIG posthumous CD.

(i) R.I.P.  Stack Bundles, BIG L.

(j) Remember, Mixtapes are the new EP’s

80 Comments             

Maybe They CAN Do That...

Quick, unrelated-to-the-topic-at-hand question: how many of you humps know that this weekend (Saturday, to be exact) is the sixth anniversary of Aaliyah’s death? Another question: how many humps just remembered it after I said it?

So while I expected yesterday’s post about the woman’s reluctance to accept the sometimes-demeaning trials men face in their never-ending quest for social equality to be filled with the comically inept jibba jabba from spammers, e-thugs, false prophets and fake-ass muses, one unforeseen occurrence I assumed would never happen was me stepping out on a female. So in that sense, apologies go to jussagirl for my comments yesterday.

At the same time, her response in regards to the alleged “independent woman” piqued my interest somewhat. With so many proclaiming they do not need a man more often than not, it’s pretty contradictory to me that since women need that manly essence to produce a child they’d need a guy, at least in the literal, indirect manner.

In my nihilistic ideals however, a woman claiming they do not need a man is nothing more than a crock-load of shit (unless you’re a lesbian, but that’s a topic for another time, as I’m just as, if not more, confused as A.H.L.O.T. is about the shit altogether). Far be it for me to say anything about this (as my status with the ladies is legendarily sub-mediocre), but I thought that if women were looking for something to love an honor them as, well as putting a dent in their life-bearing vestibules every now and then to show said love and honor, would they not need a man to fill those figurative (and literal, of course) shoes then [1]?

But perhaps this is a sign that the woman’s demands for an equal social status is on the horizon a lot closer than we think. I’ve already seen that women are beginning to be more gullier than men [2] in the sense that they’re more likely to pop a cannon into somebody’s stomach, not to mention that guys are finally starting to tax them for half their shit and child support during divorce proceedings [3]. But now it seems like they’re not as susceptible to catching a jail sentence or a prison term anymore, as in the cases of Foxy Brown and Shesus Khryst Superstar herself, Remy Ma. Maybe I’m just looking to deep into it (as I tend to from time to time), but if more women are willing to take the good alongside the bad, perhaps then will those lines be erased, and women won’t have to bark out to anyone about their self-aggrandized “independence” anymore [4].

[1] I’m calling shenanigans on any woman who thinks she can supplant a man with a dog or sex toy.

[2] It also doesn’t help that the line that separates the difference between men and women is more blurry than ever before, what with all that quasi-sensitive,  “pink cookies in a plastic bag” bullshit popping up, but I digress.

[3] While I’m on the topic, why is it that while a woman won’t need a man for anything in a divorce, they’ll gladly accept half his shit as a consolation prize? Not only is that hypocritical to me, but also just fucking wrong.

[4] Let’s face it, people: if an “independent” woman didn’t “need a man” as they proclaim, they wouldn’t need to say that shit out loud in the first place.

98 Comments             

Let’s See A Girl Do That!

Before I begin, I must stress that this post is not a dig at women, but rather a heterosexual male’s perspective on a womanly-oriented topic, and should be taken as such. Besides, if those women’s magazines can erroneously talk shit about knowing what a man wants on the daily [1], why can’t I?

With all due respect to the cola bottle-shaped women of this world, but many of your current crop of visual representatives are (to me at least, though I’m sure others would agree) are either a bleeding-pants, ambulance-chasing feminist or a knob-shining slore wouldn’t know what “ladylike” meant if it came from their gooch as a yeasty, infectious nut diddle.

A few days ago, I had a conversation with one of my female friends about the dilemma today’s “urban” (read: non-corn fed crackas from the ‘burbs) women face. While I’ll admit that in some cases they are represented unfairly in the public eye, throwing the finger at men, record labels and/or network conglomerates for such depictions is nothing more than a bunch of bra-burning bullshit, as if men forced these broads at gunpoint to let things like getting sprayed with expensive bum wines and letting fucking Nelly use an asscrack as an ATM happen to them. This hypocritical stance on seemingly everything, from interracial dating down to the fucking price of tea in Tapei, attributes to part of the reason random-ass humps like myself are hesitant to back women at times. At the same time while women will decry and protest about the poor presentation of the woman in rap lyrics (but let’s face facts, people: women are calling themselves bitches in their songs), a diseased scallywag like Superhead can make a brazillion dollars peddling her whorish exploits in paperback form. And don’t front like women didn’t buy her shit, either: I read snippets from a copy a female friend had lying next to her college biology books and Zane novels one night. Yeah, I know.

Speaking of hypocrisy, something that has always caught my attention has been to woman’s fight for equality in this nation. While I wholeheartedly support the notion that a woman should be considered the equivalent to men, let’s be honest: what woman is willing to accept all the doldrums men go through? If that’s the case then, a woman's gotta be willing to get taxed for half her shit and child support in a divorce, and should be more than prepared to catch an eye jammie should she have the balls to run up on a guy Keke Wyatt-style, right? Shit, I wish a woman would try to hawk me down with no repercussions, but I digress.

As I’ve stated before, I am not trying to disrespect the women’s movement in any such manner. At the same time, women should not ignore the glaringly obvious counteractions of some of their “representatives” [2] as well. Perhaps then would people – including myself – take the shit more seriously.

[1] Seriously, it’s not that long a list. To paraphrase Dave Chappelle, suck our dick, tickle our balls, make us a sammich and don’t talk so much.

[2] Don’t front: Karrine is a role model to some. Why, I have no fucking clue.

171 Comments             

Hip-Hop Stays Winning

In case you motherfuckers didn’t know, I live in the city of Inglewood, a good ten miles away from the closest beach, thus leaving me with no ocean breeze and no sense of serenity and calm, but a shitload of quick-nut motels, noisy Monte Carlos and low-flying airplanes that have probably permanently fucked up my hearing in ways I do not wish to know.

Aside from the zombie crackheads that occupy a Best Western down the street, the only thing mildly interesting about this city is not the Randy’s Donuts spot (which I, despite my two years here, have not gone to once, although their chocolate chip donuts look like that crack), with the gigantic pastry sign towering above it (if you’ve seen any of John Singleton’s shitty “urban dramas,” chances are you’ve seen the shit), but the strip mall adjacent to it, which houses – among the really cheap fast food joints – a gun range, a sex shop and a liquor store.

Travel a few miles inward, however, and you’ll end up in my neighborhood, where there are aspiring Ronaldinhos practicing on their soccer game, family cookouts galore and one faceless neighbor who calms my frayed nerves blowing jazz tunes from his trumpet every night.

The reason I bring up this scenario is because these yin-yang characteristics that surround my city also embody the spirit of hip-hop culture. Much like there is the average fake-ass über-thug secretly taking it from behind while behind the scenes, there are an equal amount of powerful and positive acts floating around out there as well.

An interesting thing about staying at home during the weekdays is the insane amount of shit I find floating on the Internets and television. After seeing crapterpieces like “Watch My Feet” (Chicago’s lucky that Tooda is keeping them relevant), it’s easy to see while conservative pundit assholes like Bill O’Reilly jump on hip-hop as if it’s giving the children AIDS. But most of us hip-hop fanatics know better, which is why despite the mainstream success for some, the love we have for the indy-rap crowd is unrivaled.

Much like A-Plus said a while back, we don’t need humps like Sweet Daddy Grace Sharpton using some bizarrely misguided logic to defend (or destroy, depending on which perspective you view it as) this culture, while intentionally shitting on it in the process. Perhaps if Slickback and Billbo could take the time out from their daily ambulance chasing, they’d understand that. But for the most part, I could give a shit about what they think, because their lust to burn hip-hop in effigy is only catering to that crowd who think Oprah is some sort of Black deity. Fuck Oprah.

101 Comments             

Curtsy, Please Play In Traffic

If there’s anything more bitchmade than a bunch of humps running around cyber-insulting each other [1], it’s a bunch of asshurt idiots mad because they never got the chance to carry another man’s weed. Not to imply that some clowns from Jay’s old neighborhood don’t deserve anything, but I’ve always thought that getting mad when someone doesn’t keep a promise they made to you is some straight bitch-boy shit.

At the same time, running around making YouTubes about how wrong Grandpa Simpson is isn’t helping matters either. Think about it: who in their right mind would start spewing some wild jibba jabba about how they used to push off nickels and dimes with Jay-Z? The last time I checked that shit would constitute as snitching, but seeing as how it’s now the norm for rappers to rock zip-up muscle v-necks and give each other the reacharound, I don’t think anything is taboo in this field nowadays.

But perhaps they’re disillusioned that some no-talent hack like Memphis Bleek has more money than them, and rightfully so. Hell, I’m slightly pissed at the fact Memphis Bleek has more money than me. Then again, I can live with the fact that I don’t have to scrub the liver spots off my boss’ back to keep my lights on [2]. If that’s the case, then being a weed carrier who slaps up children for his weekly allowance is definitely > giving my boss a sponge bath every night.

Speaking of Curtsy, whenever his latest ear violator comes out, the annual Fiddy Cent Diss Fest is never far behind. While the shit may have worked in spades for his first go-round (and effectively ending the rapping Cookie Monster’s career in the process), the latter sessions seem more and more trivial and like a cry for attention. His current target is none other than Weasel F. Fraggle himself, which makes no sense since he has no visible issue with the hump, aside from that shitty song he did with Ja, much like his beefs with Fat Joe and Jadakiss. Frankly, this is just another ploy to attract people to buy his shit, as none of his singles have really caught fire, unless you count the countless “I Get Money” versions swimming out there. Honestly, if he caught another nine bullets with his teeth, I don’t think that’ll even boost the hype for this impending shit sammich.

You would think if Fiddy would stop holding on to the past and deliver at least a song with some semblance of thought put into it, perhaps he wouldn’t get shitted on in sales come 9/11. Shit, Kanye does it, and his music feigns more intelligence than that latest book by Michael Eric Dyson.

[1] Just because I was out of action for a few days doesn’t mean I didn’t catch that shit. You fuckers should be ashamed of yourselves.

[2] Or maybe Larry Johnson does that shit. It’s not like he’s doing anything else at the moment.

45 Comments             

My Slang Is Editorial

Yes, I'm still sick. No, I ain't going nowhere. Yes, I'll be back Monday.

But you might want to take a look at this to pass the time. No Morris Day.

220 Comments             

“I Will Gladly Pay You Tuesday For A Hamburger Today”

Major epiphany of the week number two: today’s hip-hop could be responsible for a lot of bitchmade people and activity in the hip-hop society.

Think about it: the wimpy behaviors of some of your favorite cRappers could be held accountable for this current influx of soft-ass knee grows (and hyper-sensitive, false YT c-prophets) as of late. Whereas being considered an “Average Joe” rapper used to be limited to that section of “intelligent, backpack” hip-hop, it now appears that the shit is starting to hit the supposed “thugged-out” artists also, albeit in a hilariously ass-backward way.

I never thought of this idea too much, but after reading my overlords' feature on tough talking weenies, it had me pondering: when exactly did it become cool to be such a bitch in hip-hop? Back in the day, rappers had to damn near Fat Man a church full of children to get any sort of street credibility. Now it just seems like gargling on some Dimetapp or rocking a v-neck muscle shirt and their sister’s skinny jeans will suffice.

While it’s understandable for an artist like Common, Lupe Fiasco or even Kanye West to run around like they used to shower with their socks still on after gym class (remember that?), as they never pushed themselves as gun-toting über-thugs in the first place, seeing some random-ass hump posing in a flagrantly fruity manner a la Curtsy in GQ is now becoming the standard in hip-hop. But it’s not like anybody shouldn’t have seen this coming: once the gangbangers started running around in Nadeshiko Pink, I knew that all bets were off.

In a sense though, I should be relieved that most rappers prefer to talk shit and act like bitches, than talk shit and actually back it up, especially since the last couple peoples to get ethered in hip-hop were nothing more than weed carriers, and we all know expendable they are. At the same time, this scenario is proving the underlying theme of hypocrisy in today’s hip-hop, making today’s prominent shitbag artists come off as liars. I mean, who’d be shook if some random-ass, tatted-up goon in a Hanes Her Way halter-top tried to style on them with an unloaded biscuit?
 
At the same time, I can’t help but feel a little perturbed about the younger generation growing up to worship these assclowns. It’s already been proven that without a prominent male role model in their lives, little boys will start doing some suspect shit early in their lives like, say, p-popping on YouTube, as if that’s the thing to do. If the youth don’t bother with a “regular” rapper telling them it’s alright to be yourself – or at least some tough-talking rapper who can back up his words - I fear that said generation will grow up to be a bunch of no-backbone-having, bitchmade meatwads. Hopefully by then though, this rapidly-deteriorating globe would have taken me out by then, so I don’t have to be a witness to that sad-ass shit.

***

Speaking of my superblogging status, I may/may not go on hiatus for a bit, thanks to some random-ass food bug I caught at a dive last night. As much as I hate to not do one (you humps don't realize how much I love doing this shit), there are times when I realize I'm not Blak Supaman. Damn you, Percy.
 

186 Comments             

Houston, We Have A Problem

In an effort to show coastal parity in hip-hop, I’ve tried to shun my usual rants about the South’s suspect rap behavior, what with them creating retarded YouTube dance moves almost every week, mmm-mmm kissing during BET performances and just making asses out of themselves regularly. Which is no easy task, given that an insane amount of dumb shit happens all the fucking time.

It’s real simple to jump down the South’s tonsils, pointing collective fingers in their direction as the cause of hip-hop music stinking to high Hell right now. But in reality, the ones who should take the blame are those who refuse to twist that phalange toward themselves sometimes. Shit, I’ll admit I’ve “acquired” one too many albums in my heyday, yet at the same time, not only have I bought albums, volunteered my services and supported even the most independent of artists, I’ve been writing for this got dayum site (well, on and off) for almost 2 years now, particularly doing my part to bring awareness to the dumb, deaf and blind since my esteemed overlords threw me this piece of bandwidth in April. Real talk, I can’t even think of the last time I haven’t posted. But I digress.

I’ve already defended the South before a few times on this site, and I shouldn’t have to remind anyone of the contributions that region have given this country, particularly those on a societal standpoint. But while I can’t really knock their hustle, it’s difficult for me to sit back and not talk shit about the hilariously fucked-up situations going on down there, and not just the fact that Louisiana is the only state whose capital is on an island in the middle of the fucker.

When I initially heard Bun B’s rhyming half Pimp C pull rank on the entire region, I instinctively thought that was the greatest (and funniest) thing to happen to them since Andre put away the Liberace wigs and started rapping again. Think about it: it’s different for someone like myself to shit on the South, as I’m not from that region, thus leaving my thoughts resembling delusions of grandeur. But when an elder statesman pulls the same shit, I can’t help but puff out my chest in an “I told you so, bitches!”-style manner.

* stands up from desk, gets on couch and poses with eyes closed and nose up, The Rock-style *

And if you need further proof that the South is in dire straits, look no further than the fact that they’ve cancelled the Houston leg of the greatest hip-hop show this year, Rock The Bells, due to lagging sales. Since I already know Black people don’t give a shit about hip-hop outside of ringtone sales anyways, it really didn’t shock me at all that not even White people would go see it, what with Texans still dragging us porch monkeys behind the back of their rusty pickups every now and then. But now the next question I propose is this: how many of those humps that didn’t buy an RTB ticket got one for that fruitbag, BET-sponsored Screamfest concert?

This is why the South can’t win for shit.

***

And before I forget, DJ Legend is hip-hop. My bad, duke.

165 Comments             

Rock The Bells Is Saving Hip-Hop

Before I start off, let me get one thing off my chest:

Rocking a hoodie and a pair of fake-ass stunna shades to the desert is not hip-hop.

Now, for all the shit-talking, eye-rolling, negative chit-chatters who bellyache about hip-hop being dead, I’ll address you all with one simple line:

If you don’t go to any of the Rock The Bells concert stops, take two of deez and go play in traffic.

Not to sound like a Stanley (but let’s face it, I am), but after seeing the various pictures from this site and others around the cyber-world, I can’t remember the last time I personally have been gassed up for anything, aside from the time my mother gave me back all of my Game Boys she had hidden from me over the years the night before I moved out of her house.

Not to mention this was the third concert I’ve ever been to, excluding the free ones that pop up throughout my city the MTV Campus Invasion three years ago in college, when my friend's brolic-ass homeboy punched out some hapless YT during Talib Kweli’s performance. The best (or morally damning, depending on your perspective) part about that concert was when said friend jumped on the stage during the freestyle competition, spat a line comparing his opponent’s rhyming career to Aaliyah’s plane crash and was booed off that fucker quickfast. What makes it worse was that while I was in line waiting to get an autograph from Talib, the woman in front of me turned out to be one of Aaliyah’s cousins. Needless to say, I didn’t get her phone number.

The thing that gets me is the overly-apparent lack of Black people that come to these events. Including the RTB show I went to two years ago, the only Blacks who attend this shit were myself, Brillyance, the rappers who perform and their weed carriers. That may have been a good thing though; in that intense heat and with those expensive prices, Blacks are known to fuck shit up at the drop of a dime.

So what tickets ran you almost $90, and one beer cost about as much as a twelve-pack in the supermarket. For an all-day festival packed with almost 20 acts, two stages, a huge open field (where I caught one couple fucking on the fence, which is pretty disgusting considering the fact that most people baked in the sun for a good 8 hours, but whatever), guys getting shitfaced in the entrance line and passing out before entering the venue, huge-knockered women with their chests all out, positive energy, Rage Against The Machine-inspired mosh pits and cracka-ass crackety cracks jumping through bonfires, if you decide to go see the Scream Tour (where tickets are roughly the same price) to be around a shitload of smell-bad teenagers shrieking for motherfucking Lloyd of all people, you are the reason hip-hop sucks.

Well, you and Southern rap.

Shout outs go to those that stopped by the booth copped a shirt, mixtape or just showed love. Extra shouts to J-23, Shake, Lexx, Brillyance, Cazi (is that how you spell it?) and Andres as well. The revolution will not be televised.

***

And bugging out to Rage Against The Machine is hip-hop.

138 Comments             

Endtroducing...

After reading Brillyance’s introductory blog a few weeks ago, it had just occurred to me that I hadn’t done the same. On the flip side, I thought I’d never last this long on the site, what with me always pulling the ranks of your favorite rappers on a daily basis. Pause?

It’s quite surprising, however, that my little piece on this section of the Internets would take off in the manner it has, not to mention giving this fledgling journalism career a somewhat major boost. Humble yet oblivious idiot that I am, I’d never believed that you humps would actually want to read my shit, yet here we are a couple months in, and I have a fan base, of sorts, similar to the local crack pusher in the projects.

I guess that because of this I should give a little insight of myself to the peoples who read this shit. While I don’t have any outrageously hilarious stories the likes of Brill’s - as the ball and chains known as my job and bills have essentially limited my social gatherings to drunken nights at Chili’s or marathon Madden sessions with my cousin, thus being unable to indulge in the finest of human debauchery sometimes - I hope to enthrall the masses nonetheless.

Without further adieu, allow me to introduce... myself.

1) MC Hammer may have introduced me to a life of crime... somewhat. It’s a known fact that the first rap album I ever scored was Please, Hammer, Don’t Hurt ‘Em. What many people don’t know was that I got said album by essentially stealing it. Remember those slips in various music magazines for BMG’s “6 For 1” service, where they’d send you about a half-dozen extra tapes for free if you paid for one? Well, I did that, except that I never paid for them, and I always used a different name each time. The best part was when I used my friend Brian’s name in high school, and when he tried to do it, all he got were a shitload of collections bills. If you’re reading this now Brian, my bad.

2) Hip-hop comes with me everywhere I go... literally. Since 2002, I’ve gotten at least one tattoo on my birthday. Last year was no different, except that now I have a shoulder-to-elbow length mural of the four pillars of hip-hop  - the MC, the DJ, the B-Boy and the Graf Artist – permanently etched on my right arm. The project took two years to complete, including planning, designing and eventually tattooing the entire thing.

3) Pepper spray hurts like a mofo. During one of my many stints as a volunteer, I got the chance to help out at the 2004 Vibe Awards – the same Vibe Awards where one Jimmy James Johnson polished his knuckle game on Dr. Dre’s face, causing that infamous scuffle/stabbing. What most people don’t know is that to disperse the crowd, the police sprayed a mushroom cloud’s worth of Mace into the poorly ventilated, cramped venue, effectively blinding everyone in the vicinity. I think I saw Tony Yayo also spork that guy alongside Young Buck, but I couldn’t be sure. I did manage to score some jeans and sneakers for my work, which was more than what the average slore there got, and I didn’t have to suck a dick to get them. Menopause.

4) I’m not a prick in person. Honest. If you’ve noticed, most of my remarks in the c-boy section appear whenever I feel I’ve been provoked. On the flip side, while I won’t start insulting someone in person for the sake of squaring off against them – being that I’m roughly Allen Iverson’s size and could probably get mollywhopped at the drop of a dime since I haven’t been in (or had to need to be in, mind you) a fight in years – I am liable to talk shit about anything that crosses my vision.

5) New York > California. New York is the birthplace of hip-hop, doesn’t tax anything up to $110, has more free bars, concerts and clubs within a close proximity of each other, immensely deep multi-ethnic cultures and sells Nike Dunks for cheap. Meanwhile, Los Angeles – although I was born in Fresno and raised along the southern section – has a whiny bitch on an underwhelming basketball team, no football squad, a whole shitload of posers and Tommy The Clown. Is it any wonder I’m trying to leave this bitch?

6) Hand game (im)proper. Thanks to numerous park basketball injuries, I have seven fully functional fingers, two slightly irregular ones from sprains, fractures and dislocations and one finger I ethered so badly I have four screws permanently implanted surgically in it. How bad, you ask? Every once in a while the door alarm at some random-ass store will go off because of them.

7) I don’t say the n-word a lot, unless I’m around a bunch of niggas. If you’ve noticed, I usually steer clear from the dreaded n-word in my blogs. I also have the tendency to not say it in general. However, put me around a bunch of people throwing out the word like candy corn on Halloween, and I’m likely to spit it out more than anyone there.

8) You’re never too old for an ass-whooping. When I was 20, I had a girlfriend who happened to be a stripper. One day we decided to... err... swing an episode in my mother’s bed. What I never expected was for her to actually walk in on the damn thing. Excluding the time I had all my wisdom teeth pulled out at once by some old-ass dentist with the shakes, the beatdown my mother gave me was one of the most painful experiences ever.

9) Apparently, I used to look like Tyrese. In my shaved-head college days, I was a volunteer at the 2002 BET Awards, where my responsibilities were, among others, to walk celebrities down the red carpet. In between guiding Benzino and Dave Mays (and wanting to kick them in the stomach the entire time), Bruce Bruce (I’ve never seen a large person sweat that much) and Clipse (who were surprisingly down-to-earth and humble for, you know, former crack dealers), I was treated to a variety of hecklers saying I resembled “that Coca-Cola guy.”

10) I’m a bit of a nerd, save for an impeccable taste in the finest of clearance-rack wears and Nike Dunks. Aside from hip-hop and fresh gear, I have an affinity for graphic novels, John Woo movies, the scientific aesthetics of writing and the storyline of the Max Payne video games. And if I didn’t pursue journalism, I’d be studying to be an English teacher, with the hopes that I can properly teach the future about simple things like grammar and punctuation, seeing has how they’re a little important in life.

11) A.H.L.O.T. hates my guts. Since I’ve been here, my most infamous post remains my diatribe on Lil Wayne (“Lil Wayne = G.O.A.T.”). Amongst the piles of death threats, homophobic rants and name-calling, Ms. Howse delivered the crème de la crème:

Clearly, you don't understand Hip-Hop... This is why it's important for people to travel, gain an education and pick up a book... You are an idiot and as a journalist you should have your pen burned... READ, LISTEN & LEARN... that's part of your job. I swear to Hip-Hop you are the most upsetting writer I've witnessed since Willie Lynch...

To this day that’s the only cut that’s penetrated my armo