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Slap-Boxing With Jesus
Classic Songs By Crappy Rappers
With the entire hubbub from bloggers making lists of the greatest rap albums ever last week, my Central American blogging brother from another mother Belize suggested that yours truly should compose one as well. I originally didn’t plan on making a list, but when the only newsworthy items are Fat Joe grave robbing Big Pun for his rhyme book and arroz con pollo recipe and yet another G-Unit-related shooting, there really wasn’t much to work with today.
That said, it should be noted that this list was composed by a person whose cherry-popping hip-hop experience came courtesy of Please, Hammer, Don’t Hurt ‘Em [1] way the fuck back in the fourth grade, as well as suffer through dustbucket West Coast artists like Mad CJ Mac and G-Moe [2], so if anyone has any inkling of knowledge in regards to shitbag records, it should be me.
That said, much like Hammer’s current status today, 2007 hasn’t been a particularly good year for rap music, whether it’s major label artists either getting employee of the month treatment at Koch or being treated like tax deductibles, or shitty producers making shittier diss songs towards other shitty producers.
That said, there was once a time where some shitty rappers actually made a classic song, thus extending their painful duration in the game. Without further adieu, here is my list of said douchebag rappers in no particular order. To avoid coastal discrimination [3], I’ve chosen one song from each coast (West, East, South, Midwest) as its representative. Feel free to put in your own two cents as well.
Fat Joe, “ The Shit Is Real (DJ Premier Remix)” (click here): Most people today see Joey Crack as nothing more than a chubby rapper who went all Eddie Guerrero (you know: lie, cheat and steal) on Face Dirty’s rhyme book and jetted down to Miami to cash in on their “burgeoning” scene. But prior to his departure, he used to be a card-carrying weed carrier of one of the best crews ever, Diggin’ In The Crates, and was allowed access to their Rolodex to make his somewhat shitty albums back in the day. This one gem from Jealous One’s Envy is quite possibly the best song he’s ever made. The combination of his tough-guy lyrics (“One day I went to visit my aunt and stuck up my cuz”) and Primo’s breezy boom-bap made this the underground anthem of 1995.
UGK, “Pocket Full Of Stones” (click here): Bun B and his AK-toting basehead partner Pimp C created this blueprint for all trap-or-die songs back in 1992. It’s a shame Pimp got high on his own supply and fucked up whatever momentum they had after “Big Pimpin’,” leaving Bun to whore himself out to keep their name relevant.
Eazy-E, “Real Muthaphukkin G’s” (click here): This was a toss-up between this song or Snoop Dogg’s Doggystyle album, but I chose Eazy because there was once a time when Snoop could actually rap. Eazy-E, however, couldn’t rap his way out of a wet paper bag with scissors in his hands, but it sure as shit didn’t stop him from crafting one of the best diss songs of all time with his khaki ironers B.G. Knocc Out and Dresta. If you’ve never laughed at the part in the video that shows a pre-NWA Dr. Dre in a sequin bodysuit, you have no soul.
Cool Breeze featuring OutKast, Goodie MoB and Witchdoctor, “Watch For The Hook” (click here): I could have easily gone with the thousands of craptacular songs that have come out of the south in the past two years, but in their defense, none of those artists were really good to begin with. Back before Andre 3000 became the Vaudeville Villain and that one member of Goodie MoB got his leg ethered, the Dungeon Family were like the southern equivalent of the Wu-Tang Clan (don’t front). This song from former bag handler Cool Breeze’s only album had us all gassed for their eventual shit sammich of a group album [4].
[1] Which still gets regular spins in my iPod to this day.
[2] I can’t even find this jig’s shit online. That should say something.
[3] But let’s be honest; most of that shit comes from the South.
[4] That Purple Ribbon Piff Pocketer shit doesn’t count.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Fat Joe Lost
It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that one of the reasons hip-hop stinks to high hell right now is because there’s a lot of bullshit that goes on behind the scenes. Corporate politics, company mergers, shitty budgets and an overall lack of fresh, creative talent are forcing TIs and rappers alike to take drastic measures just to stay afloat.
One of the taboos in music (next to grown men BuFu’ing their “adopted” protégés behind the scenes. Pause.) has always been the “ghost” process. While many up-and-comers see ghost producing and ghostwriting as a means of establishing themselves in an already congested arena, most fear that their original concepts will be ganked by their higher-profile counterparts, and without the proper financial abilities, they’ll be helpless to stop it. Where it’s not held in such a low regard in R&B (that’s primarily how today’s current stars got their start), it’s considerably worse in hip-hop, where ghosting is essentially a cardinal sin (not unlike grown men BuFu’ing their “adopted” protégés behind the scenes. Pause.). But let’s be honest: Hip-hop is known for people snatching other people’s shit and claiming it as their own without giving the proper credit. If it weren’t for Gilbert O’Sullivan suing the hell out of Biz Markie back in the day, rappers would still be pilfering shitbag samples without getting approval.
You kind of have to feel sorry for Fat Joe. No matter how hard he tries, he can never seem to make it. Starting off by carrying Diamond D’s records and hash as a member of the Diggin’ In The Crates crew, Joe was eventually able to afford his own maracas holders, the Terror Squad, which just so happened to have one of the gulliest lyricists ever, Big Punisher. Unfortunately Pun OD’d on pork rinds and most of the members bounced, forcing Joe to move down to Miami and get in bed with his Muslim DJ The Great Khali (pause) to make ends meet.
Now word has hit that Joey Crack doesn’t even write his own raps. I originally thought that he had robbed Pun’s estate for his rhyme book, but apparently that isn’t the case as it now looks like he just bullied some random-ass rapper from Virginia named Face Dirty into writing “Lean Back” and didn’t pay him. The sad thing about this is that I remember an old episode of MTV Cribs where he lived in a mansion with about four cars, and he got his rocks off by licking the bottom of an Air Force One shoe he’d never worn (which is quite possibly the most impotence-inducing visual I've ever seen. Extra pause.), which suggests he easily could have afforded to pay Face and continue on with his façade. But the fact that he tried to steal some unknown rapper’s rhymes is not only wrong on all levels, but proof that the rap game isn’t what it used to be anymore.
If he had the space in his coffin to do so, Pun would be turning in his grave.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Back To The Drawing Board (Kitchen?)
A while I back I stated how dark-skinned black women in black music are the new-millennia endangered species, not unlike the mountain gorilla and northern hairy-nosed wombat, due to the fact that their ancestors were not gang-raped by their slave owners, and thus denying them the opportunity to be doused with Ace Of Spades - or whatever ridiculously expensive firewater Grandpa Simpson drinks nowadays – by your favorite rapper’s favorite izm holder in music videos.
(If you want to take a trip down memory lane, you can do so here.)
Not to be discriminative to only my asphalt-colored queens, I also asserted that black women in general are having a great deal of difficulty keeping it together in music today, only to be constantly outdone by their paleface counterparts time and time again.
(For my special report, you can go here.)
As a side note, I’ve been told that rapper jaundice-toned rapper Jean Grae has been putting it down for quite some time now. Unfortunately, I read that she’s signed to Talib Kweli’s imaginary record label, so that pretty much means her album will come out Neverary 35th, which puts women back at square one. But I digress.
Anyways, all the rage on the Internets this week has been about lists of the greatest rap albums ever. Even my blogging brethren S.Y. Young got in on the action. But one trend I noticed is that not one list had any album by a female rap artist. I originally thought that this only confirmed my theory that black women couldn’t make it in black music, but now I’m beginning to see that it may just be rap.
Granted, there are female rappers who should be considered in the list of the greatest rappers of all time, but those come few and in between. And nowadays, female rappers seem more concerned with acting, singing or getting arrested by cops than making an actual rap album. The only “memorable” female rap albums that came out last year were Shawnna, Remy Ma and Missy Elliott, and only Missy’s earned a plaque. It’s gotten so bad that even the American Music Awards took out their Favorite Female Rap Artist category last year. Compare this to the 2000 incarnation, when The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill won an award, and that shit had been out for two years prior.
But you can’t blame them entirely. With rap grossly underperforming these days, hip-hop producers are trying to get that pop guap to keep their ribs from touching. And with rap losing its fan base every day that can only spell trouble for the female rapper.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
“Stop Snitching” Vs. Reality
A few days ago CBS’ 60 Minutes ran a piece on the “stop snitching” phenomenon, and I should have known something was up when washed-up ass Tyson Beckford was shown in the first 30 seconds advising against the shit. I assume he’s still pickle-faced since Wendy Williams outed him and Derek Jeter on the radio a year or so back, but whatever.
If you missed it, you can watch the piece here.
Anyways, the central theme of the entire segment seemed to revolve around the so-called “code of ethics,” the unwritten creed that represents a rapper’s all-too-important street credibility, and it’s those same principles that caused hip-hop’s Lyle Alzado himself, Busta Rhymes, to not talk to police, even though he watched his bottom bitch Israel Ramirez get sent to the pearly gates. And who better to reinforce the ideals than the Pink Ranger, Cam’Ron, who stated it would be bad for business if he were to talk to police.
I understand that snitching could have a detrimental affect on the two rappers’ record sales. But both of their most recent releases went double rubber tree wood, so what do they have to lose?
The piece then wraps up with a couple teenagers talking about how snitching of all things is another crime in the community, comparable to rape and murder. In this blogger’s opinion, the real crime was CBS giving these window lickers camera time to idiotically explain how, even though they’ve witnessed a crime firsthand, they still wouldn’t talk to cops.
At the risk of having the remainder of my “street cred pass” revoked (but let’s face it, I’ve already been labeled by the Stan’Rons on this site as a racist homosexual, so it’s not like I actually give three-fifths of a shit), the entire “stop snitching” trend is a bunch of bullshit... to an extent.
I don't think anybody should run to the cops out of spite for a person. It’s one thing to tattle on someone out of jealousy for the guy. There’s been plenty of times I was afflicted the Green-Eyed Bandit disease (extra no homo Erick Sermon) when I saw or heard of people around my neighborhood were living a better (albeit sometimes illegal) lifestyle, but that wasn’t grounds for me to run to the Bacon Battalion, nor have I ever done such a thing. If anything, their “success” encouraged me to work harder at my own legal craft. However, to answer Anderson Cooper’s question, if a serial killer lived next door to my loved ones, I’m not afraid to go to the cops. My mother’s safety is more important than my own foolish pride.
By now most of the e-thugs on this site are probably furiously typing away at their keyboards, writing anything from a Negroid monkey to a (you guessed it!) snitch in the comments section, which I find hilariously asinine. I mean, not only have Busta and Cam talked to cops on more than one occasion, but after Curtis got sporked inside that studio by Murder Inc.'s Crack Child of all people, he filed an order of protection, which leads me to believe that the entire “Stop Snitchin’” campaign is full of shit. And if anyone out there believes that their hood reputation trumps his or her family’s well being, I suggest you question your own manhood.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Quit Hating The South
A few months back I read a blog somewhere that declared T.I., Young Jeezy and Lil Wayne were the current hip-hop generation’s (read: over-developed teenagers who grow up to be future WIC recipients and happen to “have heat for bitch ass pussies” like myself) Jay-Z, Biggie and Nas respectively. Biased asshole that I am, I immediately commented (with exclamation points at that!) that the person who wrote that shit should kill himself for saying such nonsense.
But since that one fateful day, the more I thought about those comparisons, the more accurate I began to think the blogger was. Not to say that the three have any classic material that could hold a torch to Illmatic, Ready To Die or Reasonable Doubt, but in terms of their overall mass appeal and presence in today’s era.
Regardless of how many people feel, we all have to agree that Southern-based hip-hop has a Sharpshooter-style hold on the rap game. That region’s impact is so dense that other rappers are either moving down South to appeal to their demographic or making poor imitations of Southern songs to stay relevant. And at the forefront of the South are The Snowman, Weezy F. Baby and The King. It’s essentially the same setup back in the mid- to late-nineties when the East Coast reigned supreme, with Jay-Z, Nas and The Notorious B.I.G. running wild.
But as one of my favorite bloggers once said, their only problem is that the said impact has invaded their very consciences so much that they refuse to acknowledge that any of their music stinks to high hell, and are real quick to call any detractor a racist (huh?) hater, which makes no sense. Or in my case, they’d cut off the pilot light on the water heater in the one-room apartment I barely make rent for sometimes so I have to take a shower boiling water on my stove. But I digress.
I’ll admit that joints like Outkast’s “Hollywood Divorce” (particularly the verse of everyone’s favorite Muppet) and Rich Boy’s “Lost Ones” are incredible songs that truly showcase the abilities of Southern music. And Waitin’ To Inhale is probably the best rap album of 2007 so far. Yet once someone mentions that a song such as Lil Boosie’s Zoom” (who had the funniest Wikipedia entry of all time) is a shitty-ass song (and let’s be honest, it is), random-ass people from the most random-ass cities in the South will jump down your throat without hesitation.
Seriously though, I love the South’s unwavering dedication to and loyalty for their own kindred, and contrary to how my blogging brother from another mother SY Young feels, they are not responsible for hip-hop currently sucking balls. While the East (north?) and West continually bitch and fight like a wounded ex-girlfriend, it’s the South’s unique unity that keeps them relevant and subsequently running shit. Alas, it’s that same blind faith which has foolishly convinced them that they can’t get shot off their high horse. Perhaps when their inevitable fall from grace occurs southerners will finally fess up to their follies. But we should all respect them at the very least for keeping the flames of hip-hop lit. I may be a biased asshole, but I can at least give credit where credit is due.
P.S.: Maybe when I’m inspired I’ll do something about how Sunny Bridges is the greatest Southern rapper alive. But only if he finally quits that Vaudeville Villain shit.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Fuck Russell Simmons
A while back I stated that Def Jam Records has become the new artist’s graveyard where their own former platinum-selling artists couldn’t hope to have their album released before the Iraq war ends, much less sell 100,000 copies. Thinking about how hard they fell off (pause), I wonder if the label would be going through the same shit had rap’s original tall Israeli Russell Simmons[1] hadn’t sold it off to support his Chinky giraffe[2] ex-wife’s weed habit.
Not that I wasn’t a fan of Russell’s earlier work. If it weren’t for him, my hip-hop knowledge probably would have started and stopped at Please, Hammer, Don’t Hurt ‘Em. Hell, he even convinced me to blindly purchase two DJ Clue? albums and The Art Of Storytellin’, and those shits stink to high Hell.
But you had to think that something was fishy when he tried pushing off a whole shitload of failed products to poison the hip-hop crowd. I mean, the early-90s horrorcore shit, fake energy soda and debit card were one thing, but when he tried to steal his own diamond mine by employing the students in Oprah’s fake school in South Africa, I knew something was fucked up about him.
I guess it also doesn’t help that a guy doing yoga in hip-hop = kinda quasi-homosexual. But I digress.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve never bought into any of his glorified bullshit. And now the OG TI is taking the very entity he made his millions off of (not to mention the First Amendment) to task, joining up with Mr. Hymietown and Sweet Daddy Grace and calling for record labels and radio stations to eliminate the words “bitch,” “hoe” and the dreaded n-word from songs. But much like Calvin’s paper-mâché excuse that rappers can call women nappy-headed hoes but grumpy old cracka-ass crackas can’t, the whole thing reeks of hypocritical bullshit. Unless you’re one of those rich chumps who can afford to fuck off $10 a month just to hear Tony Yayo on satellite radio boast about the next kid he’s gonna slap through a wall, most if not all radio stations are required to bleep those words out. And record labels also put out clean versions of albums as well.
The real reason Rush is pulling this shit is because he obviously isn’t making any money in his other failed ventures, what with Phat Farm clothing being sold in Burlington Coat Factory outlet stores across the nation, and needs a reason to get back in rap. But now that albums are selling as if they came with The Germ that could be his dumbest idea ever.
[1] I know he’s not really an Israeli, but follow me.
[2] They don't call it the world's most accurate website for nothing!
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
P.A.W.G.s Are The New Maybachs
Did anybody else remember (or care) that last month was Women’s History Month? Neither did I, but you have to admit, women have taken large steps towards equality and rights, thus finally allowing men to yoke them for child support for a change. Word to K-Fed.
But whereas most women are stepping their games up, black women just can’t seem to get it together in music [1]. Never mind the staggering decrease in women in the rap game that aren’t shining some random-ass weed carrier’s knob for a few seconds of camera time and a chain; there just haven’t been any (good) female rappers since, say, the days of “Buddy.” Whether it’s Lil’ Kim too busy gorging on White Castle burgers since her prison break a while back to make an album or Foxy Brown going all Usagi Yojimbo on manicurists, shoe salesmen and belt pushers, black women in rap aren’t destined to make it any time soon. Hell, even Young Jeezy isn’t looking towards black women anymore, instead scooping up the finest in black man’s kryptonite in order to support his crack carriers’ new album.
This type of apathy is slowly starting to stretch into R&B music as well. Outside of maybe Ciara (who’s clearly a rip-off of Aaliyah), there haven’t been any groundbreaking women singers in the past five years [2].
And while black women can’t seem to catch a break in black music, most recently white women are the ones breathing a new life into the dying genre. Last year, Christina Aguilera went and grabbed DJ Premier out of whatever YMCA he spins at for her new album, while fellow former Kids Incorporated cast member and meth-head Fergie went platinum with her “white chick in a black (multicultural?) band” shtick. Even paleface UK imports Lily Allen, Joss Stone and Amy Winehouse are doing more for black music than Keyshia Cole, Rihanna and the leftover broad from Destiny’s Child (you know who I’m talking about) ever did [3].
Where does that leave black women? Well, unless they’re pulling an Oscar out of their ass, I’m not expecting them to convince me to illegally download their album anytime soon [4].
[1] What was the last female rap album to come out? Somebody enlighten me.
[2] I swear I thought about this for a good five minutes, and I couldn’t think of anything outside of Cherish and Brooke Valentine. And “neo-soul” artists don’t count.
[3] Extra props go out to Joss for banging Raphael Saadiq for a few beats. Pause.
[4] More props goes to my twin sister who finally landed a job that’ll actually require the usage of her law degree. Nappy-headed hoes, take note.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
G-Unit Lost
While the humps who frequent this site were busy threatening to kick my ass because I refused to acknowledge that their beloved Mr. Snuffleupagus could rap his way out of the lost city of Atlantis and into my heart, news hit that not only one but two of G-Unit’s finest piff pocketers, Tony Yayo and Spider Loc, were involved in separate random-ass shootings on the same day. While I found it to be the funniest thing I’ve seen since that YouTube clip of The Game’s brother getting ethered for bringing a Crip into Compton (which has got to be the dumbest idea evar), it was pretty low for Jimmy Henchman to pull that off.
You did have to question though how long it would take before there was some kind of comeuppance for G-Unit. I mean, Fiddy himself has been responsible for having a lot a careers stall out (read: taking food out of the mouths of Ja Rule’s 18 kids) to pacify his BALCO-induced desires. Fat Joe had to escape to Miami and get in bed with his Muslim DJ The Great Khali in hopes that he can sell a few more records after Curtis put hands on him. And not only did Tony Yayo Dragon Punch Jimmy’s kid for wearing the wrong t-shirt, but he also shot up fellow Aftermath ganja holder Busta Rhymes’ bling handler because he wouldn’t let him wear one of Spliff Star’s chains for that “Touch It” video.
Note: shooting a weed carrier’s weed carrier = wrong on so many levels. Not to mention a complete waste of bullets.
Shit, when I worked the Vibe Awards a few years back, I think Yayo himself was holding the guy that polished his knuckle game on Dr. Dre’s face while Young Buck damn near sporked him to death. I’m just saying.
Most importantly, it shows that the G-Unit dynasty will never be as strong as it once was. With their records selling as if they came pre-packaged with AIDS, everyone from Dip Set third-tier goons to Black Wall Street door openers are throwing rocks at their throne.
My only pang, however, is going after somebody’s mother. I may be a crass, nihilistic asshole, but even I think that shooting up your rival’s mother’s house is fucked the fuck up. But at the same time, what is she doing still living in one of the roughest ‘hoods in New York? Did Fiddy take all the royalties from “So Seductive” or something?
It was never a good idea for G-Unit to go up against Jimmy Henchman in the first place. Not only are Haitians some of the most hardbody people evar, but Jimmy himself ran with Haitian Jack back in the day, and he was the jig that got 2Pac shot the fuck up in 1994.
The obvious next step is the imminent response that’s gonna come from G-Unit. Perhaps they can actually get good mileage out of Ballerina P and get him to cut a rug with Game, Yu-Gi-Oh!-style. Things have gotten so bad over there that Havoc and Lil’ Fame are forced to produce tracks for Styles P. and Cam’Ron just to keep their lights on.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Lil Wayne = G.O.A.T.
A while back when I wrote a piece on this site proclaiming that the Notorious B.I.G. was the greatest rapper of all time, I had no idea that the army of stans on this small section of the Internets would be up in arms over it. In between the subsequent name-calling and long-winded diatribes, two of the most names most frequently brought up were former Humpty-Hump cheeba stasher Tupac Shakur and current Katrina refugee Lil Wayne.
Now while I have no qualms admitting that Makaveli was one of the most influential lyricists of our generation, I more or less have a love-hate relationship with Weezy F. Baby, not unlike my sometimes-unhealthy fascination with the Cam’Ron and the Dip Set (um, pause?), because I’m a masochist like that. But I haven’t been convinced that Wayne is even the best rapper with a seventh grade education.
At times, he can be a pretty exciting guy (pause?). With the influx of rappers who obviously were taken off their mother’s breast milk too early, it’s nice to see a rapper - albeit a southern one nonetheless - attempt to bring back a lyrical sense in a vapid arena. And he does hold a decent grasp of the English dictionary, which is particularly impressive from someone who comes from one of the more ass-backward states in the nation. And that “I’ll leave you missing like the fucking O’Bannons” line was pretty clean.
However, I’m not convinced that anybody who comes from the land of broken levees and Confederate flags could bring anything innovative outside of world-class strip clubs (what up Strokers!) and glamorized braces made from the tendons of South African orphans, much less someone who used to run with a smack fiend and has a quasi-homosexual relationship with his surrogate father. Wayne and Baby look like the type that rock those Muppet pajamas with the footies while fighting over who gets to sleep on the top bunk. That “Leather So Soft” shit was just wrong for all the wrong reasons. Plus, throwing a shitload of halfway-legible quotables on a barrage of mixtapes doesn’t strike me as “impressive.” Word to Jadakiss.
Granted, the South may currently be responsible for the greatest rap song evar, but it’ll take more than a random-ass mixtape or guest appearance on a chubby Arab DJ's new single to compel me to believe that Lil Wayne is the best rapper breathing [1]. The primary detractor is that he’s been unable to make a complete album. But the fruity, skin-tight v-neck muscle shirts don’t do it for me either.
[1] Especially with songs like this.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Lil Wayne = G.O.A.T.
A while back when I wrote a piece on this site proclaiming that the Notorious B.I.G. was the greatest rapper of all time, I had no idea that the army of stans on this small section of the Internets would be up in arms over it. In between the subsequent name-calling and long-winded diatribes, two of the most names most frequently brought up were former Humpty-Hump cheeba stasher Tupac Shakur and current Katrina refugee Lil Wayne.
Now while I have no qualms admitting that Makaveli was one of the most influential lyricists of our generation, I more or less have a love-hate relationship with Weezy F. Baby, not unlike my sometimes-unhealthy fascination with the Cam’Ron and the Dip Set (um, pause?), because I’m a masochist like that. But I haven’t been convinced that Wayne is even the best rapper with a seventh grade education.
At times, he can be a pretty exciting guy (pause?). With the influx of rappers who obviously were taken off their mother’s breast milk too early, it’s nice to see a rapper - albeit a southern one nonetheless - attempt to bring back a lyrical sense in a vapid arena. And he does hold a decent grasp of the English dictionary, which is particularly impressive from someone who comes from one of the more ass-backward states in the nation. And that “I’ll leave you missing like the fucking O’Bannons” line was pretty clean.
However, I’m not convinced that anybody who comes from the land of broken levees and Confederate flags could bring anything innovative outside of world-class strip clubs (what up Strokers!) and glamorized braces made from the tendons of South African orphans, much less someone who used to run with a smack fiend and has a quasi-homosexual relationship with his surrogate father. Wayne and Baby look like the type that rock those Muppet pajamas with the footies while fighting over who gets to sleep on the top bunk. That “Leather So Soft” shit was just wrong for all the wrong reasons. Plus, throwing a shitload of halfway-legible quotables on a barrage of mixtapes doesn’t strike me as “impressive.” Word to Jadakiss.
Granted, the South may currently be responsible for the greatest rap song evar, but it’ll take more than a random-ass mixtape or guest appearance on a chubby Arab DJ's new single to compel me to believe that Lil Wayne is the best rapper breathing [1]. The primary detractor is that he’s been unable to make a complete album. But the fruity, skin-tight v-neck muscle shirts don’t do it for me either.
[1] Especially with songs like this.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Lil Wayne = G.O.A.T.
A while back when I wrote a piece on this site proclaiming that the Notorious B.I.G. was the greatest rapper of all time, I had no idea that the army of stans on this small section of the Internets would be up in arms over it. In between the subsequent name-calling and long-winded diatribes, two of the most names most frequently brought up were former Humpty-Hump cheeba stasher Tupac Shakur and current Katrina refugee Lil Wayne.
Now while I have no qualms admitting that Makaveli was one of the most influential lyricists of our generation, I more or less have a love-hate relationship with Weezy F. Baby, not unlike my sometimes-unhealthy fascination with the Cam’Ron and the Dip Set (um, pause?), because I’m a masochist like that. But I haven’t been convinced that Wayne is even the best rapper with a seventh grade education.
At times, he can be a pretty exciting guy (pause?). With the influx of rappers who obviously were taken off their mother’s breast milk too early, it’s nice to see a rapper - albeit a southern one nonetheless - attempt to bring back a lyrical sense in a vapid arena. And he does hold a decent grasp of the English dictionary, which is particularly impressive from someone who comes from one of the more ass-backward states in the nation. And that “I’ll leave you missing like the fucking O’Bannons” line was pretty clean.
However, I’m not convinced that anybody who comes from the land of broken levees and Confederate flags could bring anything innovative outside of world-class strip clubs (what up Strokers!) and glamorized braces made from the tendons of South African orphans, much less someone who used to run with a smack fiend and has a quasi-homosexual relationship with his surrogate father. Wayne and Baby look like the type that rock those Muppet pajamas with the footies while fighting over who gets to sleep on the top bunk. That “Leather So Soft” shit was just wrong for all the wrong reasons. Plus, throwing a shitload of halfway-legible quotables on a barrage of mixtapes doesn’t strike me as “impressive.” Word to Jadakiss.
Granted, the South may currently be responsible for the greatest rap song evar, but it’ll take more than a random-ass mixtape or guest appearance on a chubby Arab DJ's new single to compel me to believe that Lil Wayne is the best rapper breathing [1]. The primary detractor is that he’s been unable to make a complete album. But the fruity, skin-tight v-neck muscle shirts don’t do it for me either.
[1] Especially with songs like this.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Lil Wayne = G.O.A.T.
A while back when I wrote a piece on this site proclaiming that the Notorious B.I.G. was the greatest rapper of all time, I had no idea that the army of stans on this small section of the Internets would be up in arms over it. In between the subsequent name-calling and long-winded diatribes, two of the most names most frequently brought up were former Humpty-Hump cheeba stasher Tupac Shakur and current Katrina refugee Lil Wayne.
Now while I have no qualms admitting that Makaveli was one of the most influential lyricists of our generation, I more or less have a love-hate relationship with Weezy F. Baby, not unlike my sometimes-unhealthy fascination with the Cam’Ron and the Dip Set (um, pause?), because I’m a masochist like that. But I haven’t been convinced that Wayne is even the best rapper with a seventh grade education.
At times, he can be a pretty exciting guy (pause?). With the influx of rappers who obviously were taken off their mother’s breast milk too early, it’s nice to see a rapper - albeit a southern one nonetheless - attempt to bring back a lyrical sense in a vapid arena. And he does hold a decent grasp of the English dictionary, which is particularly impressive from someone who comes from one of the more ass-backward states in the nation. And that “I’ll leave you missing like the fucking O’Bannons” line was pretty clean.
However, I’m not convinced that anybody who comes from the land of broken levees and Confederate flags could bring anything innovative outside of world-class strip clubs (what up Strokers!) and glamorized braces made from the tendons of South African orphans, much less someone who used to run with a smack fiend and has a quasi-homosexual relationship with his surrogate father. Wayne and Baby look like the type that rock those Muppet pajamas with the footies while fighting over who gets to sleep on the top bunk. That “Leather So Soft” shit was just wrong for all the wrong reasons. Plus, throwing a shitload of halfway-legible quotables on a barrage of mixtapes doesn’t strike me as “impressive.” Word to Jadakiss.
Granted, the South may currently be responsible for the greatest rap song evar, but it’ll take more than a random-ass mixtape or guest appearance on a chubby Arab DJ's new single to compel me to believe that Lil Wayne is the best rapper breathing [1]. The primary detractor is that he’s been unable to make a complete album. But the fruity, skin-tight v-neck muscle shirts don’t do it for me either.
[1] Especially with songs like this.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Lil Wayne = G.O.A.T.
A while back when I wrote a piece on this site proclaiming that the Notorious B.I.G. was the greatest rapper of all time, I had no idea that the army of stans on this small section of the Internets would be up in arms over it. In between the subsequent name-calling and long-winded diatribes, two of the most names most frequently brought up were former Humpty-Hump cheeba stasher Tupac Shakur and current Katrina refugee Lil Wayne.
Now while I have no qualms admitting that Makaveli was one of the most influential lyricists of our generation, I more or less have a love-hate relationship with Weezy F. Baby, not unlike my sometimes-unhealthy fascination with the Cam’Ron and the Dip Set (um, pause?), because I’m a masochist like that. But I haven’t been convinced that Wayne is even the best rapper with a seventh grade education.
At times, he can be a pretty exciting guy (pause?). With the influx of rappers who obviously were taken off their mother’s breast milk too early, it’s nice to see a rapper - albeit a southern one nonetheless - attempt to bring back a lyrical sense in a vapid arena. And he does hold a decent grasp of the English dictionary, which is particularly impressive from someone who comes from one of the more ass-backward states in the nation. And that “I’ll leave you missing like the fucking O’Bannons” line was pretty clean.
However, I’m not convinced that anybody who comes from the land of broken levees and Confederate flags could bring anything innovative outside of world-class strip clubs (what up Strokers!) and glamorized braces made from the tendons of South African orphans, much less someone who used to run with a smack fiend and has a quasi-homosexual relationship with his surrogate father. Wayne and Baby look like the type that rock those Muppet pajamas with the footies while fighting over who gets to sleep on the top bunk. That “Leather So Soft” shit was just wrong for all the wrong reasons. Plus, throwing a shitload of halfway-legible quotables on a barrage of mixtapes doesn’t strike me as “impressive.” Word to Jadakiss.
Granted, the South may currently be responsible for the greatest rap song evar, but it’ll take more than a random-ass mixtape or guest appearance on a chubby Arab DJ's new single to compel me to believe that Lil Wayne is the best rapper breathing [1]. The primary detractor is that he’s been unable to make a complete album. But the fruity, skin-tight v-neck muscle shirts don’t do it for me either.
[1] Especially with songs like this.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.
Lil Wayne = G.O.A.T.
A while back when I wrote a piece on this site proclaiming that the Notorious B.I.G. was the greatest rapper of all time, I had no idea that the army of stans on this small section of the Internets would be up in arms over it. In between the subsequent name-calling and long-winded diatribes, two of the most names most frequently brought up were former Humpty-Hump cheeba stasher Tupac Shakur and current Katrina refugee Lil Wayne.
Now while I have no qualms admitting that Makaveli was one of the most influential lyricists of our generation, I more or less have a love-hate relationship with Weezy F. Baby, not unlike my sometimes-unhealthy fascination with the Cam’Ron and the Dip Set (um, pause?), because I’m a masochist like that. But I haven’t been convinced that Wayne is even the best rapper with a seventh grade education.
At times, he can be a pretty exciting guy (pause?). With the influx of rappers who obviously were taken off their mother’s breast milk too early, it’s nice to see a rapper - albeit a southern one nonetheless - attempt to bring back a lyrical sense in a vapid arena. And he does hold a decent grasp of the English dictionary, which is particularly impressive from someone who comes from one of the more ass-backward states in the nation. And that “I’ll leave you missing like the fucking O’Bannons” line was pretty clean.
However, I’m not convinced that anybody who comes from the land of broken levees and Confederate flags could bring anything innovative outside of world-class strip clubs (what up Strokers!) and glamorized braces made from the tendons of South African orphans, much less someone who used to run with a smack fiend and has a quasi-homosexual relationship with his surrogate father. Wayne and Baby look like the type that rock those Muppet pajamas with the footies while fighting over who gets to sleep on the top bunk. That “Leather So Soft” shit was just wrong for all the wrong reasons. Plus, throwing a shitload of halfway-legible quotables on a barrage of mixtapes doesn’t strike me as “impressive.” Word to Jadakiss.
Granted, the South may currently be responsible for the greatest rap song evar, but it’ll take more than a random-ass mixtape or guest appearance on a chubby Arab DJ's new single to compel me to believe that Lil Wayne is the best rapper breathing [1]. The primary detractor is that he’s been unable to make a complete album. But the fruity, skin-tight v-neck muscle shirts don’t do it for me either.
[1] Especially with songs like this.
The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of the writer and not necessarily those of HipHopDX.com or Cheri Media Group.