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The Hip-Hop Nerd Speaks!
Banksy's Done It Again
Banky's essentially a known unkown who has managed to turn the art world on its head. With his brand of "street art," he made his name known and his stuff is now famous and expensive on a worldwide level. Now, he's decided to open up a pet shop, which is not a pet shop.
Instead, the shop is a spot where his art can be seen/appreciated. The shop includes work to criticize humans/animals and man's treatment of animals. Rare. Unique. Art.
Verse of the Day: GZA-Animal Planet x Verse 1
"Welcome to the Jungle where the cat loves to scratch
The rat squeals
And the polar bear feasts on the blubber of seals
The pack of wolves be scheming on a bunch of gazelles
Where the leopards grab the wilderbeast down by it's tail
You see the chimps they grow hips they hustle and sling in trees
Elephants for security that move tons of leaves
The bluebirds arrest parrots that love to talk
or eagles that stalk fresh-water trout under the wing of the hawk
You see the vultures pick the pocket of whatever remain
In the brain we watch but a shadow of the lion's mane
Whose roar is loud enough to take the stripes from a zebra
He camouflage his bets and his spots of a cheetah
Shouldn't gamble with a cheetah and not expect to get beat
You silly goose you know he move fast on his feet
Now you're neck deep in debt with a bunch of loan sharks
So you move on a colony of ants with aardvarks, you see
Most of the everglades controlled by the gators
It was crashed by the crocs who came years later
See the locusts had swarmed with the bees
the tick moved with the fleas
The dragonflies and the wasps shared with the seas
The crab and the leeches sucked your blood flow
And they laugh like hyenas when they out to catch dough
See a million mosquitos from the West Nile
Carrying the virus that made the boars less wild.
It's like a jungle sometimes."
Who Got Got?
A favorite hobby of any head has always been to sit down and analyze who got who on tracks. So, whenever a guest is featured on a track-that question comes up. Always. Who got who on this track? Who's the illest on this one? Who came harder on this joint? However you want to say it. If a posse cut comes out, best believe that it's time to debate it.
So, when I was at my dope friend's web-home today, I came across a new track by Joel ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce da 5'9" and Joe Budden, the question came to mind. Who got who? Now, noen of them dropped their best verse ever or anything. All are ill and all did their thing. So, the question goes out...now...Who came the illest?
Here are the lyrics, as seen at The Cadillac Garage:
I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch
Hip hop got my spine smothered
But I’ll be fine brother
My mind hovers above all you jive suckers
Listen, that’s word to my mother
You throw a shot at me
I’m throwing a shot back
Your’s is on a joint
Mine’s whistling by your top hat
Ya I’m cool but you violate and I’ll cock back
Open the mac’s mouth and black out like I do not rap
Im sick and tired of niggas lyin
They fifth is lyin in they second drawer
Next door to some bullshit they ironed
yall be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin
I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion
I ain’t gotta mention the streets on this song
To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause
Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared
The pretty girls go “Papi here’s my underwear”
Never in a hundred years I thought I’d be a rapper
But in less than a hundred bars I knew I’d be a factor
I’m PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma
You’re Atari 2600 with a weak adapter
Between us the gap’s so crazy
I’m Gucci, Louis V, you’re Gap, Old Navy
I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies
You’re suburb, I’m gutter where it make cat’s go crazy
Nino Bless:
Fuck a lecture, ain’t tryin to be Pun’s sucessor
That term’s done fucka, what up whatever
You bird’s is food
I’m about to pluck some feathers, I’m young and clever,
Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?
Walk around with metal all on me like the front of ShredderI lust for cheddar, you owe me
Leave holes in your vest that’ll open your chest like a sunken treasure
I’m somethin’ like a phenomenon
Droppin’ bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan
Whatever I’m rhymin’ on, or whoever I tear em apart
Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart
Shit, been through it all
Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws
I’m all that, and a bag of the baddest piff
Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits
Like sick cracker shit
Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype
Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice
Dog, cross me twice, can’t afford the price
It’ll cost you, I’ll off your life
You soft, I told you I’m raw white
When I’m on this mic, the mourn at Knight
Don’t wanna see mornin’ light
And I feel like I’m forced to fight
When the chips are down like Ponch fallin’ off his bike
Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right
I got em in awe, my aura’s Jordan like
What’s really poppin’, who’s diddy boppin’
You was a willy
Now you all Common and really conscious
I ain’t with that silly nonsense
I really pop shit
My gun stay cocked like Biggie’s optics
I stay evolvin, but grown bitter
On your grave they carvin “fucked with the wrong nigga”
Crooked I:
I don’t write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page
I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage
Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile
Unless i dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age
Forever vow to never smile when I’m at peace
Only when I’m eatin’ the deceased like kiesh
Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasbord in the feast
The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast
You’ll be missin’ till fisherman see your corpse
I’ll be in Michigan stickin’ a chickin
In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again
from Switzerland to New York
I was whippin’ Bently’s before them pictures up in the Source
I’m a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit
Shoot you while you’re talkin, on some news camera crew shit
Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit
Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit
Exclusive, you don’t want it in fact
I’ll have the doctors operating on the front of your back
Tryin to keep your stomach intact
The spiritual you, leavin your body he don’t wanna go back
That’s when the tunnel go black
I’ll send your soul to the atmosphere
Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career
It’s Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach
Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat
Royce Da 5′9:
I hope niggas know
I’ll show up to ya show
I’ll show up where you go
Show up to ya door
4’s will explode shells
For they hit the flo’
I know niggas know
I got an open window flow
I air shit out
In the D’ they used to call me Mayor Royce
Now they call me Clay Davis
Guess why?
Shiiiiiiiiiieeett
Cause when it come to them words
You know I wear shit out
I write rhymes like white lines
On the nose tray
Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O’Shea
Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ
Not the white boy, but I’m down for the Coldplay
Forever stay violent, better stay silent
Hammers stay hummin’
Like strummin’ the mandolin or violin
Speaking of, I done played into the violence
More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic
I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up
Either that or we gon’ slap niggas up
Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode
If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya
Till it ain’t no more, ain’t no dough
Get into his ass cause I ain’t opposed
I’m a living anal probe
I’m a lame-a-phobe
Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?
(WHY THE FUCK NOT!!!)
When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380
Now I’m spittin’, sittin’ between Shady and Jay
I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave
Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she aint shave
I leave the booth smellin’ like somebody ain’t sprayed
I would talk about Kimbo but I ain’t crazy
I’m like Marty McFly
Goin back in time and dissin’ his momma nigga you can’t fade me
Joe Budden:
They say he a bastard for real
Then they see the ass on his girl
So they wonderin’, why he so mad at the world
I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it
So even to the producer it’s hard to I.D. it
Bars tremendous, it’s in your best interest
I insist your men just, do your best Bish’s rendish
Endless, move more then 2 inches
My blood’ll boil like I got a big skin cyst
So end this, or see me manana
Or see the speed of a llama
Underground prima donna
That ain’t hard to find popppin’ E in a Honda
With hands like E. Honda, he a monster
I love war it’s like my pet peeve kinda
But for us to even beef you should be honored
My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE
Nah, rewind each line each time
Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano
When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho
You now fuckin’ with Mouse, the head honcho
Nigga I could fit your house in my condo
I walk around like ratchets been legalized
Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye
Closed casket, now you having a box, wait
Zipper over your head, dude’s calling you crotch face
So ya’ll could bump swag like us
But the next time rap’s discussed
Add this as a plus
Don’t nobody hit the pad like us
And would get up in that ass
But the fags might bust
And since poppin’ tags is a must
I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl
Chicks removing they drawls
Now your crew is in awe
How you ball?
Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall
You gon’ need another processor,
to process it, I’ll set it
I said it!!!
So keep running around hot headed
Till you get hot leaded
Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic
Digest it, niggas is paw-thetic
Rap what you can’t afford, ya’ll must got credit
All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell
With Joe spell, NO L!
Finally, a big congratulations to those who are in the middle, staying calm.
1.
City Is Burning
A Few Things
A few things hit my laptop, as I walked through smoke all day long (more on that later). So, I decided to take a break from everything to blog it up. I actually decided to cut it down to only a few things since the blog was getting kind of long. So, here you go.
First off, I woke up with no power, to the city burning.
Wildfires have hit SoCal, causing "inclement weather conditions." Schools have been shut down, at least 1 man has died and a whole lot of people have been losing their homes and/or priceless possessions. Here in LA, wildfires go on all the time. It’s quite common. Last year, we saw craziness. But, today was different. The Happening type of different. More than 3,000 acres are being burned down. The wind allowed smoke to permeate lungs and nobody I know wanted to be outdoors. Freeways were shut down. Pretty much affected everything. Just terrible. Just tragic.
Here’s a shot from a friend’s crib.
Prayers to those in danger.
Beyonce's Newness
Beyonce is just not stopping. After releasing a single, she goes on to release another. Two videos have been released and I can’t truly comment on either song, good or bad. But, I will say that the video for her latest is just…great and it solidifies Jay’s line about her wearing his chain.
Here's the latest:
Dessa (of Doomtree)
Who says there are no talented femcees in the game? Actually, I do. Rarely is there a femcee who showcases talent and skill with illness. So when one comes around, I'm encouraged to give due props. Dessa of Doomtree is a talent to behold. And, with Doomtree fame (read: little publicity), she is not as famous/popular as a Trina. Still, she is one of the bright spots in the game, for certain.
Dessa, for those who don't know...Read up!
And finally...
Verse of the Day On Shuffle
For many, growing up can be a downer. After all, much is lost when youth is lost. But, that causes some to go into a second childhood, which Nas put so freshly. Anyway, I was listenign to the iPod on shuffle and came across this gem, with the scratched samples and the perfect beat. I had forgotten about this track for a minute. But, listening to it today reminded me of how dill it is. Anyway, here's the verse of the day for 10/13/08. Grow up, kid.
Nas' Second Childhood x Verse 2
"Yo, dude is 31, livin in his moms crib
Ex-convict, was paroled there after his long bid
Cornrows in his hair, still slingin, got a crew
They break his moms furniture, watchin Comicview
Got babies by different ladies high smokin L's
in the same spot he stood since, eighty-five well
When his stash slow, he be crazy
Say he by his moms, hit her on her payday
Junior high school dropout, teachers never cared
They was paid just to show up and leave, no one succeeds
So he moves with his peers, different blocks, different years
Sittin on, different benches like it's musical chairs
All his peoples moved on in life, he's on the corners at night
with young dudes it's them he wanna be like
It's sad but it's fun to him right? He never grew up
31 and can't give his youth, he's in his second childhood."
Peace and Thanks for the E-Mails
I Don't Get It
It's hard to understand why he quit. "What makes a tenth round fighter with a winning score decide he needs to throw in the towel 'fore the whistle blows?" Maybe we'll never know. But, maybe, if we say he's wack enough times-we may get the fighter to return to the ring.
Ever since that ol’ sucka emcee stepped to him, challenging Andre to a battle, as he stood there patiently, it’s been clear that Mr. Benjamin wasn’t about the clichés. This, mixed with an incredibly distinct ATLien flow and a partner in the Cadillac, made OutKast one of the illest Hip Hop groups of all time. After only a few albums, it was basically a known fact: Props were due. Bring up the slew of hits, know that they ain’t tryin’ to lose, and you’ll understand exactly how they changed the rules.
But, we can’t cater to an ego.
“If you see me, tell me I'm wack. That's the best thing you can do for me. You know, if you want a greater album, say that. Say that!”-Andre 3000
Andre 3000 is wack. Well, not really. But, let’s keep telling him that. See, recently, 3K said folks shouldn’t look to him as rap’s savior. As a matter of fact, he noted that he only writes about a verse a year. A verse a year? See, that’s about as ludicrous as Southern Hospitality. A verse a year from Andre 3000 is ridiculous. Sure, he’ll drop an ill rhyme in that time, but what of the other verses that inevitably hit the trash bin? Bet they’re better than 70% of what’s out now.
Although he isn’t as dominant or anywhere near the equivalent of 23, it is reminiscent of The Retirement. Here’s a guy on top of the game, with accolades and potential to make an even greater impact in the coming years…and he decides to quit doing what he does best to …do something else. And while his singing is (for the most part) cool, his lyricism is still fresh and his projects have not been any less critically acclaimed, there’s something unsettling about not hearing 3K rap.
No. He is not in a cult. He is not on drugs and he is not gay. So, the questions that he asked and answered when he announced a return to the gangsta…They need no repetition. The only question left is like a ‘Kiss of death: Why?
Why not flow? Why not unleash that “D.E.E.P” notebook that is surely tucked somewhere in a Dungeon? If not inspired by the game, why not inspire the game? If not in the mood to rhyme, what will it take? You can have any producer, any beat, you can produce your own and you, like it or not, have a group of young emcees that need some saving.
They need saving from that which you labeled “fuck shit.” The same fools are trying to be stars. Guess they don’t know what comets are. He wants us to tell him he’s wack to awaken that Hulk of sort…So, say it. Maybe we’ll get another return.
“I hate it, to be honest. ... I cannot save no whole rap game. I mean, the rap game has to save itself…You cannot put that all on one man, especially me. I write a verse every year. You can't do me like that.”
Sorry, sir. But you have work to do.
And for those who are not up on Andre, get up, get out and do something. Hope that it doesn’t go over your head, but if so you will catch on later.
Play the tracks!
The Art of Storytelling
Everyone knew she was a special young girl
From her neighbors to her teachers
Some labeled her a prodigy, others called her a genius
It was amazing the way she could play the violin
It made it hard for people to believe that she was only ten
But behind every brilliant mind there lies a monster
This one just so happened to be her father
See daddy was sick, he'd get a rush by playin touchy touch
And tellin her to keep it hush
It was his seceret way of loving that he needed someone he could trust
Fucked her head up, sayin', "if Momma was alive she'd be so proud of us"
So she'd hide the desire to die
But if you paid close attention you could see the sorrow in her eyes
Walking around in the only real hell
No one would ever think she'd have such a story to tell
Afraid to go home, afraid to talk, afraid of cryin
She was too young to even know why
And everyday she'd go to the river with a message in a bottle sayin
'Please, God help me I don't wanna live to see tomorrow'
Each day she'd scrounge for a tiny shred of hope
Just to wish the bottle would stay afloat
But every single solitary day, the bottle seems to sink
I don't know why but the bottle always sinks
She never sees it happen, but the bottle always sinks
Now only the bottom of the river knows what she really thinks
She made that violin sing with so much pain
You could almost hear her scream through the string vibrations
What was once sweet and innocent
Is now rotten because the phsychotic father
Chose to probe the flowers of the pure and sacred
Her instrument was her only tongue
To express the infinite abuse in it's depths
At night the footsteps crept to her door and she'd begin to shake and weap
And with tears rolling down her cheeks she's pretend she was asleep
When the nightmare was over, and the sun dawn is light
She'd retreat to the same place she always did
Rip a page from her diary, and write with all her might
Then send it off into the current, determined to find a way to live
And everyday she'd go to the river with a message in a bottle sayin
'Please, God help me I don't wanna live to see tomorrow'
Each day she'd scrounge for a tiny shred of hope
Just to wish the bottle would stay afloat
But every single solitary day, the bottle seems to sink
I don't know why but the bottle always sinks
She never sees it happen, but the bottle always sinks
Now only the bottom of the river knows what she really thinks
Being a victim of her daddy's hands for so long
She lost the will to move on
Sick of picking up her violin to hide from what's wrong
Exausted, but stayin strong
She tried to play the bright side, but couldn't bring herself to make
nothing but sad songs
Sick of that sick feeling that stays in her stomach
Sick of waiting for a rescue by someone who found one of her bottles
Sick of being daddy's little seceret
She got up at the crack of day and smashed her violin into pieces
Then proceeded to walk towards the river with a plan
Only this time the diary & bottle was in her hand
Just walkin' for self, away from the hell
Not knowin' at the river bottom lied all the cries for help
It was weeks before they found her dead body
Some fisherman reeled it from the water
like something from a detective novel
Diagonosis: suicide, stemmed from desperation
Cause near where she drowned they found about 500 messages in sunken bottles.
EYEDEA
OLIVER HART LP
"BOTTLE DREAMS"
I Don't Get It
2Pac. Biggie. Jay-Z. Nas. If you are debating amongst friends about the greatest to ever do it, you’d be foolish to not at least name those emcees. That’s with justified reason. These guys earned that right. Undeniable classic albums bathed in lyrical bolts and defined by genre defying artistic dexterity. Add to that the fact they went plat a bunch of times, and times that by their influence on pop culture. I’ll tell you who else is s’posed to be on everybody’s list: Amerikkka’s Most Wanted, Death Certificate signin’ Ice Cube.
Yeah, Are We There, Yet? Yup, XXX. Um, the actor? The man is a legend. There’s absolutely no reason Ice Cube should not be mentioned as one of the greatest ever. Our culture owes it to him. Our genre insults itself by not even naming him in an argument like this. All movies aside, the man has the musical resume to challenge any icon in the game. Get a grip, kiddo-he’s stayed true to it. He’s given us quotables. He’s authored masterpieces. He’s acted as a hood Nostradamus when he rhymed about the riots before the riots and he’s done more for others. He penned Eazy-E’s ode to cruisin’ and Dr. Dre’s condemnation of drug use. He’s changed rap and made his mark by using lyrics to send a message, but the man is still doing it today. He's still making it happen, to his full capabilities.
There’s something to be said about changing the game. N.W.A. broke into the scene with some tenacity. Ferocious rhymes, powerful voices, enraged messages and reality based rhymes mixed with potent production marked the west coast’s renaissance. Rap’s revitalized energy came from black Raider hats and a middle & ring finger DNA helix twist. Eazy may have put the dollars in to realize the dream, but Ice Cube put in mad work on the pen and pad portion of the success. Along with The D.O.C., Cube was a front runner for Lyricist of the Coast. In that era, few put it down like him.
When Hurricane Jerry hit, Cube left. No one thought he’d make it but his lyrical prowess allowed his solo albums Amerikkka’s Most Wanted, Death Certificate and The Predator to be critically acclaimed. His hit making ability gave way to some of the left coast’s greatest singles of the decade. We saw the turmoil of Los Angeles, the race wars, gang wars, and finally saw the beauty of a good day and rejoiced as the Lakers beat the Super Sonics. The lights of the Good Year blimp don’t need to say anything, because that trio of albums, along with the Kill at Will EP, made Ice Cube a living legend. Hall of Fame status. But, when he continued to drop albums, reinventing his sound on Lethal Injection, War & Peace and The West Side Connection’s Bow Down, it wasn’t hard to see a lasting value to the emcee's career.
Years later, he continued to rhyme, dropping yet another WSC album, followed by his more recent independent releases Laugh Now, Cry Later and Raw Footage. Even today, his lyrics have not been dragged down at all. He’s still renowned as a lyricist, even getting a 4/5 from your favorite site’s favorite site for his latest offering.
There’s really no stopping him. And we haven’t even mentioned his movie career or the impending on slaught of future albums (including a new WSC LP rumored to feature The Game in place of Mac 10). He doesn't stop and be it on wax or on the big screen, he can't truly be stopped. [We also didn't mention the fact that he gives back to the kids yearly, with positive contributions to the hoods of Los Angeles.]
The fact is, the man is a legend and deserves that recognition. What I don’t understand is why so many find it hard to give it up to him.
Is this the motherfuckin' thanks he gets?
I Don't Get It
Count me in as one of the million haters if you like. But, I'm not a full blown hater. I respect his success. His live show is ill and he's one of the most talked about artists in the game. I overstand that. There are just some things I don't quite understand in regards to this whole Lil Wayne-Mania. I'm not saying he's terrible or whatever. I'm just saying I don't understand the constant talk about him being one of, if not the greatest. It's actually shocking to me, every single time I hear people saying he's the illest or even mentioned as one of the illest. Shocking.
Understand this, for a second. As far as I knew, Lil Wayne was wack since the first time I heard him. I even stopped checkin' for him holding no hope for any improvement. "Bling, Bling" was never nice to me. Cash Money records never made me go "Damn, that was dope!" Never. Not one time did I even think to myself, "This Lil' Wayne is actually kind of, sort of good." I thought the same as our boy J-23 here:
"I should note before I begin that Aceyalone's dope new album only got 2.5 mics in The Source, I guess he wouldn't fatten their pockets enough. Meanwhile, Lil' Wayne got 3.5 mics, way to go for the substance boys. I guess Acey should've made a couple songs about his necklace. Lil' Wayne would have to send me all his royalty checks before I'd bump him up from minus 12 mics. Nice integrity fellas, fucking sell-outs."-J-23 (March 2001)
See, I was never impressed. At all. Nothing he said ever caught my ear. To me, Wayne being wack was as factual as Jordan being dope. Everyone knew it. No one disputed. If they did, they were foolish. Pay no mind to it.
But, out of nowhere, I kept hearing "Weezy's the best." I kept hearing "Weezy's one of the nicest!" It was like hearing "Yo, son! Shaun Bradley's the man, right now!" or hearing kids say "Fuck Happy Meals. I'm all about the veggies!" To me, it was absurd. When MTV made him "The Hottest Rapper Now" and Jay called him the next Jay...it kind of threw me off. Really? Sincerely?
So, I got some of his stuff and did a little Heinz on it. Once I caught up, I still wasn't impressed. Surely, there was drastic improvement. After more songs and more music, I was impressed slightly. Slight meaning he wasn't at minus 12 mics anymore. But nothing really awe inspiring.
Still, I get it. A little. Kinda. Somewhat. Some lines are funny. Some lines make you smile, like "kinda clever there." Some songs are, hm...actually kind of good. But more times than not, I'm disgusted by the fact that the man who dropped "Lollipop" is concidered one of the illest when there are many emcees better than him currently providing dope(r) music. Also, I can understand his live show being nice. He gives his all on stage and that's noticable. But, the man who dropped "A Millie" better than _______? Not likely.
I'm not saying "more successful," or "hotter" or more "swaggerific" or whatever the label is to define Weezy nowadays. But, alive-there are a slew of rappers that don't make me shake my head as much.
You can like him. You can enjoy the music and the lifestyle. But, to call him the greatest without real analysis of what makes a dope emcee in terms of skill, just seems like an outlandish claim. I'm not knocking those who dig him. He can be ill to you, if you chose that. But, to call him the greatest in a game that has some of the greatest talents ever alive, is just disrespectful.
Or maybe I'm the disrespectful one. Maybe Weezy is the future. Maybe Weezy is the present and I just missed the whole glorious time in Hip Hop's legacy that will be defined by purple drinks, tight jeans and freestyled babble. Maybe I'm wrong. But, you're welcome to explain exactly why Weezy is concidered one of the Top 10 greatest alive.
Or ever, if that's your angle.
Again. No beef. Peace.
The Left is Wrong
Beef.
Both sides of the media just take it too far. Is there one source that isn't that bias?
Someone read my "The Right is Wrong" blog and said I was attacking right wing views. Not true. The attack was on right wing news media. Get it straight.
Also, there is no pretext of "expertise" in the political field. Blogs and in some cases, editorials are purely a way for opinions to be released. No Anderson Cooper.
Thanks!
The Right is Wrong
It's simply a joke.
"Whatch what you watchin'."
Ill+Matic
First off, DX hit you with some ill news and some quotes from Large Professor earlier this week. Illmatic will be turned into a book, with every track dissected and analyzed. Hopefully, the book does the album justice. But, since it's a Michael Eric Dyson book-we have little to fear. That should be one of the most anticipated books of the year.
"Analyze me."-Nas "It Ain't Hard to Tell"
That should be interesting.
For those who ain't know...
Finally, we also hit you with this news piece today about Ciara. But, no pictures were put on the actual piece. So, to round up that news piece...Here are the photographs. 
Peace!
Bulls On Parade
This video kills me.
Get it straight. I love Rage. My favorite band since they came out with their self titled LP. I commend what they are doing in still standing up for what they believ in. But, this video is just too funny.
First of all, my boy Zac sounds like Adam Sandler at the start of this. Happy Gilmore with Rage?
Then, he asks the crowd..."Are they afraid of us?" The crowd goes wild: "YES!"
Until Zac shakes his head "No."
Then, they're all like, "No!"
At this point, Zac could be like, "Are you all dumb?" And they'd be all "Yeah!"
Then, Zac says "They're not afraid of 4 musicians. They're afraid of you (the people)." And some shmoe in the crowd yells "They better be!" Like he's The Incredible Hulk or something, about to smash on 5-0. SMH.
Then, they kill it on some acapella shit? Rage acapella? Okay, let's hear it. Blow Horn to the Greatest and he busts out with a beat-box guitar? Sounds funny as heck.
Ah, but then Zac rips through one of the illest tracks ever. So, all is forgiven and back to giving dude props!
By the way, Tom drops an ill speech, at the end. Hope. End that video with one of the greatest chants ever.
"I won't do what you tell me."
Ride or Die Chick
Exceprt from the new book. Faith getting down. Biggie wasn't lying on the records, man. Here it is, in case you missed the news section.
"I don't know what got into my head. But I decided that I needed to know once and for all what Big was really trying to do. On that night before Christmas, I drove to Big's house on a mission to find out where I really stood.
The security guard at the gate just waved me in when I pulled up. It was Christmas Eve and she'd seen me come into the complex with the kids, so I guess she didn't think anything of it. I parked in the rear of Big's town house and walked up to the garage. It was locked. I hadn't been over to Big's house a whole lot but I did know that you jiggle the garage door a certain way and unlock it.
I got into the garage, where there was an elevator that would take me to both floors of Big's duplex. There I was, rocking a black skully cap and a heavy goose-down jacket, tiptoeing into the elevator and pressing the button to go up to the second floor, where his bedroom was located. I got to Big's bedroom door, turned the knob, and went inside. As soon as I saw a small lump next to Big's large frame, I flew into a rage, ran over to the side of the bed, and pulled back the covers. I grabbed some chick out of the bed and started beating her ass. At some point, the chick's wig came off in my hand; it was a short, cropped wig. I stopped throwing punches for a minute to get a good look at the chick I was beating up. It was Lil Kim. She was completely butt-naked, yelling as I pushed her around the room.
'So you not fuckking her, right?' I screamed at Big. 'Yeah, you not messing with her anymore, right?'
When they heard all the commotion, Cease, D-Roc, and Gutter came running into the room. 'Oh shit!" they yelled in unison. 'It's Faye! How the hell she get in here?'
Big sat up in bed and pointed at Kim, who was standing in a corner of the room, trying to cover her naked body with her hands while I was still yelling at Big. 'Yo, get her outta here,' Big said. They led Kim out of the room and she screamed and cursed the whole way.
It was absolutely crazy in that house. Kim was naked and being led somewhere to get dressed. I was still screaming on Big. Damion, Cease, and Gutter were laughing in amazement that I would be so bold. And Big looked like he was just too through with all of us. He sat up in bed shaking his head. Kim left the house and I stayed, talking to Big about why he couldn't be honest with me about her.
'I thought it was all about Tiffany?' I asked. 'You still messing with Kim, too?' Big had nothing to say.
I have to say I actually felt some pity for Kim. Big had a wife, and she settled for messing with him. Then he started dating Tiffany (rapper Charlie Baltimore) and Big had a wife and a mistress. And Kim still settled for being the other other woman. It seemed pretty sad to settle for that.
When I left a few hours later to get the kids, I noticfed that Kim had taken my key to my Land Cruiser and scratched up my entire car, from the hood to the back bumper. Even though we ended up having sex that day, at that point I decided I was 100 percent through. I was not going to be a ride or die chick, always going to lengths to show Big how I felt. I was the mother of his child and his wife. But I was going to have to let go."
Who Do You Blame?
Man, this track is pretty much 100% quotables. It's odd that tracks like this come up, where I'm stuck on pretty much every line. I know this thing is stupid long, but it's worth the listen, if you have time.
I don't know, man. The cliche of "Hip-Hop is Dead" is kind "like spinning rims, that shit got played out real quick." But, this is a great song that just looks at all of the things that have gone wrong. It's funny that, even after all of this, rap is alive, well and kicking like tha dude that knocked out the referee. It's good to check out the negative aspects of our culture to see where we need to fix things.
"So much for chers!"
Part 1
Part 3
Artwork as seen on 2DopeBoyz. Keep droppin' bombs, brothers.
Hey World.
It's been