It’s as if Webbie absorbed the ignorance of every rapper in the world and then put it on display for the internets to judge, as a sort of penance… kinda like a thugged out Jesus. I wouldn’t watch more than a couple minutes of this buffoonery, it may make you exponentially more foolish.
He may be the only rapper who is more coherent on record than in actual life. He seems kinda like that drunk uncle that asks your mom if it’s ok to take you to the store then puts you on the counter as he regails the other customers with his tales of buffoonery before he went to the pen… Then asks for a quarter to buy his pint of Paul Mason… I still bought Savage Life 3… feck.
How To Speak Rapper….
Besides being masters of, or proficient in, or at least kinda decent at rapping, most rappers have become professionals in the art of double speak. With reporters pitching softballs in most interviews, fearing to delve into any topic that might cause the slightest apprehension from an overly sensitive rapper, artists have been given a pass to push more bullshit than should be expected. They may want to form a group and nominate one of their own to run for office. Here’s a little guide I made to help you decipher some of the foolishness coming out of the mouth of your favorite rapper.
Phrase:
Man, I make my music for the street. Only real niggas feel my shit.
Translation:
I’ve been toiling in obscurity for years and noone will buy my crappy mixtapes… but I bet I could kick your ass though.
Phrase:
I’m in love with the money, fuck these bitches.
Translation:
I had my heart broken once and to mask my vulnerability I run around referring to women as bitches and garden tools, hoping to reject them before they further damage my fragile heart with their stinging rejections… boo hoo hoo hoo hoo…
Phrase:
I had money before this rap shit
Translation:
I didn’t have any money before this rap shit.
Phrase:
I ain’t really a rapper.
Translation:
I work like a Hebrew slave, performing at shows nightly, dancing around stage for hordes of white teens, signing autographs at the 28 record stores still in existence and doing interviews for morning shows that start at the butt crack of the day… oh yeah, and I have to record fifty eight mixtapes a year to remain somewhat relevant. Unfortunately, I am a rapper.
Phrase:
I want to thank God for (insert absurd rap award received)
Translation:
I never really took the time to question my beliefs or whether God would approve of the lyrics and behavior which led to this award. However, I am wearing a blood-diamond encrusted chain with the likeness of Jesus on it, so….
Phrase:
I support Occupy Wall Street.
Translation:
In my music, I like to think of myself as the 1% but I really have no understanding of this movement or what is really going on but this free promotion is great!
Tips For Tumblr…
1. Re-post any and everything some more famous person posts.
2. Be a young, impressionable, somewhat attractive, teen girl with questionable self esteem.
3. Post pictures of whatever awesome food you recently consumed. Awesome!
4. Memes!
5. Post an original thought (refer to rule #1) with a ten word quip that either agrees (in a superficial way) or antagonizes whatever said thought was…
6-10. Write even numbered lists attacking the site, in order to gain new followers.
Ef. I’m no better.
Here it goes, as promised.
Unfortunate that it took this obscure, undefined, “altercation,” to bring the best out of the Boy Boy Young Mess (who is actually 31). Much better than his Lil B-inspired “swag” raps about whatever unrealized fantasies he conjures up in his coke-fueled nights spent at the Double Tree in the chicken switch towns where promoters don’t know any better than to book him and his weed/blow carrying entourage.
Wow, I am a hater. Damn, my mom pictured so much more for me. My blow carrying entourage doesn’t even have shows or stay at classy Double Tree Inn’s in places like Lubbock, Texas. Feck.
Well, as long as Mess continues to be know as the “Boy Boy Young Mess,” I will continue to, respectfully of course, purchase his albums (at $10.99 mind you) with the implicit understanding that I can clown on his ass at will in my little known, alcohol fueled, tumblr rants. Only fair, right?
Right.
When I’m not making smarmy comments about current events and such, I’m usually listening to foolish, flamboyant ass, gangsta Bay Area rap music by guys like this.
If you’re not from the Bay, you may not know this guy just made a scathing diss song about Too Short for less than obvious reasons (besides the fact that it could only help boost him from virtual unknown to somewhat unkown Bay Area has been… and I’m a fan). I’m not good with these dangfangled computers, so I’ll post the song, aptly titled, “Fuck Too Short” in my next post… which should drop right about… now!
Do yourself a favor and don’t watch this video. In summary, Prodigy rambles incoherently about far-fetched, half brained conspiracy theories he learned to regurgitate while in prison and such. Alex Jones, being the shrewd teleconspiracist he is, uses Prodigy’s foolish ramblings in an attempt to connect to the hip-hop generation. And I only listened to the first five minutes.
Apparently the Illuminati, all powerful as they are, have resorted to recruiting rappers like Jay-Z (aka Young Joe Camel) to throw up their not so secret sign, in order to get hordes of kids at Jay-Z concerts to throw up that very same sign back at him, thus furthering their agenda for world domination. Ingenious.
Considering rap album sales have been in a spiraling decline since the aughts, you’d think the Illuminati would pick more viable artists in genres like Rock, Country or the cast from the Jersey Shore to help promote whatever devil worshipping/fiscally reprehesible/sign throwing plan of destruction they have for the world.
Meanwhile, my credit score is fucked by rising interest rates, dismal employment opportunities and the fact I graduated with a liberal arts degree. As long as the Illuminati stick with recruiting camel faced rappers to recruit teens into making triangles with their hands, I say more power to them.
Hope, Change? Nope, Same.
So Obama finally got the budget passed, saving him countless jokes about black people’s notoriously bad history with credit and debt collectors… congrats. By the end of his term he may be the only black man with a job. In 2008, you could hardly swing a dead cat at your local farmers market without hitting somebody wearing an Obama shirt, but it seems most people have opted to put their Obama coins, underwear and other trinkets in the back of their closets, wondering if Mitt Romney really is the right choice for Amurrica.
All those optimistic 18 year olds and apathetic hipsters who turned out to support the first black(ish) president are most likely turned off by the lack of job opportunities their bachelors degree in women’s studies provided and the fact they can only hope to be servants for our future Chinese and Indian overlords. Poor guy?
This guy pretty much summed it up about Kreayshawn’s supremely ignorant sister/ fellow White Girl Mob member… ef, I can’t believe I just typed “White Girl Mob.”
Damn, the Bay Area is the place to be to get shot by underpaid cops it seems. Before every malnourished, dreaded young white man from out of town and every dreaded, under-employed young black man (with a propensity to protest at Footlocker) gets their locks in a bunch… let’s examine what really happened here.
First off, this guy is a Washington state resident (strike one) who tried to pimp a 14 year old and is the prime murder suspect in a mistaken identity shooting. I know he was this close to getting his barber’s license and all but being a parolee and what have you, I’d think he wouldn’t skip his $1.50 bus fare and shoot at cops in the middle of the day… jussayin’.
I’m all for Footlocker liberation but this might not be the right cause….
If you spend as much time as me, cruising through the less than desirable parts of Oakland, looking for blog fodder, you’ve probably seen this billboard above the vacant lots, shady liquor stores and laundromats that populate the East and West (read: Black) sides of the city. I get it: black women are having too many damn abortions… enough to warrant large billboards in the ghetto… as if a Lil Wayne concert was a month away.
In the midst of this economic recession, the only way for blacks (especially those living in the less than desirable parts of town) to get ahead, is to have more babies… obviously. I think Adam Smith wrote something to that effect. While California doesn’t make statistics about abortion available to the public, they do catalog the obscene amount of murders in our cities, so a more accurate billboard might read, “The Most Dangerous Place for an African American is in East Oakland, West Oakland, South Los Angeles or Compton”… but I don’t think you can just put a billboard saying that on a main street now, can you?
You may not remember Krushadelic but he remembers you. One of the first guys to do the spastic dance youngsters call Hyphy. Just thought I’d post this. Here he is getting “dumb” in the 90’s…http://youtu.be/YXF-S1DUuKY turn to the 2:53 mark for some pre-hyphy hyphyness.
If you didn’t know, now you do. Thank me later. I had something more important to write, but who am I kidding, after looking at the third post about this “new” rapper, Dr. Dre, from some 90’s baby, I felt this was appropriate. Love it.
Domestic violence anthem of the millennium. Apparently it really turns bitches on being slapped and cheated on and whatnot… I’ve been going about this all wrong. Remix will have Chris Brown and Ike Turner on the chorus.
I guess the irony of having a Blood gang member promoting violence against young black men, doing an ad to save chinchillas was lost on them… This is part of PETA’s undercover agenda to destroy the black community by attacking Obama for swatting flies (homegrown ones, you know, the kind that hover around feces and whatnot) and promoting a coontastic quasi-rapper, full-time buffoon. I love chinchillas as much as the next man, but I may have to rock a mink in the summertime as a rebuttal to this foolishness. In other news, I may do an underground grass roots campaign against alcoholic bloggerism.
If you’re into less than mediocre rappers-turned less than acceptable actors then I know you heard about Thizz Nation’s Bavgate and his small screen release, “Big Trouble in Lil’ Oakland.” The best part about this movie isn’t the cinematography, acting or even the co-producing (I know, shocker…) What I found most enjoyable about the entire DVD was the summary on the jacket which I’ve pasted here for your reading pleasure about Bavgate’s mission to kill some drug dealing Arabs (pronounced Aye-Rabs). Here you go:
“One upon a time it was Big Trouble in a small town called Oakland, California. Where it was pimps, gangstas, drug dealers, & jackets. Where it’s easy 2 get into truoble but hard to get out. Bavgate was the one caught up in the street life as he goes to jail for a pistol charge. He maintained his life on the street as a drug dealer/pimp through his bottom bitch (Candy Lisa). But, the trouble turns when Candy Lisa gets raped by 4 Arab (Toby, Big Bundles, Rey Rey & Isa) that turn her life around. 2 weeks later she bumped into the Twin’s pimp from K.C. (Jon & Jermain Bradley) where she choosed up. Bavgate gets released after a year of jail time. He sees his pimp folks name Small Frie and he gave him the worf on where his bitch was. He rescue his bitch back. She gave Bavgate some inside news about what she had seen when they raped her. It was a large quantity of heroin & money. The Arabs was worth a lot of money.
They was the biggest drug dealers in Oakland, CA. They owned every store and every motel out in Oakland. So Bavgate rounds up his crew for a meeting about the lick (Meller R.I.P.), Dub & Diamond V. Now life back how it’s supposed to be with Bavgate on top of his game at least he thought he was. The word got out and the Arab’s and the Crook Ass Cop’s (Monda & Man Man) was lookin for him & his crew. They found his mom’s address and paid her a visit. Now it’s Big Trouble in Lil Oakland. Watch and see as Bavgate goes on a mission to find the Arabs.”
Summary of the year award. Concise, provocative, compelling. Why aren’t you watching this right now?
