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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

“Black Trash” > “American Gangster”

One of the perks of being in a position I’m in on this site is sitting back and watching the after effects of the mental havoc your opinions have wreaked on the masses. One of the things I’ve noticed and mentioned here is that unless you’re a knob shining buffoon who’s too eager to impress the sheeple no matter what, critics who go against the grain are essentially passed off as hate-filled dick takers.

And to think, I’m considered the biased asshole.

What makes my... errr... prestige that much better is when the self-serving gonzos attempt to take me to task for said opinions under the premise I say these things with some egotisitical ulterior motive behind it [1]. In actuality, the disparaging words I receive do nothing but increase my hunger for this game, not to mention stroke my pride somewhat. Because I’m uppity like that sometimes.

Take yesterday’s post for example. After listening to it a good... two times, I’ve pretty much demoted American Gangster to the “casual listens” section in my iPod, right next to my copy of Food & Liquor and the greatest hits of Guy. Despite all of it’s acclaim, I’m still unconvinced that this is one of the greatest hip-hop concept albums of all time especially considering Sticky Fingaz’ Black Trash: The Autobiography Of Kirk Jones, a joint which went largely unnoticed when it dropped some seven years ago, does a far better job of telling that shit-soft “rise and fall of a hustler” tale.

Whereas Abe Simpson could rhyme about the smell of yak gooch and still sell a brazillion copies, Sticky essentially lost any and every sense of street cred once he jumped on MTV, talked a lot of shit then got beat the fuck up in a boxing match by some Zack Morris-type of YT during one of their shitty Spring Break weeks. So when Black Trash was released after a shitload of delays, it crashed & burned like a jihadist's remains from the sky, which is sad when you take into consideration the incredible storytelling that went into the entire thing. But due to his Onyx stigma (and the fact his cousin Fredro Starr used to twist out Moesha back in the day), the group Jam Master Jay found before Curtsy will never get those same props, as if Jay never did something that outrageously stupid.

It doesn’t surprise me when the humps bitch and complain; after all, opinions are like assholes. In a way I should be happy that I’m able to create a round table discussion. On the other hand, when the speakers are about as fruity as Dumbledore, I fail to see the point of their words in the first place. But maybe that’s why hip-hop keeps losing: when its so-called true-head denizens refuse to get along because of differing opinions. Sad, really.

***
As a bonus, I provided the best song from Black Trash. Don’t ever say I never do anything for you schlubs.

Sticky Fingaz – "State vs. Kirk Jones" featuring Rah Digga, Redman, Canibus, Scarred 4 Life, Lord Superb and Guess Who

[1] Word to the wise: men lie, women lie, comments lie; hits don’t. This is why I stay winning, people.

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