Editor’s note: Internets veteran Combat Jack returns to the website to drop some fire on a young writer from XXLmag.com named Sickamore. It seems that the online publication’s writing staff have been given orders from their T.I. bosses to create a civil war between Hip-Hop fans born in the 1970’s and those that were born in the 1980’s. Some more fratricide that Hip-Hop surely doesn’t need, but if the young’n wants beef he’ll quickly see that Combat Jack isn’t the uno. I hope that this reply ends this beef thread once and for all. We shall see…
“You Gotta Have Style, and Learn To Be Original”
-quote from a 70’s baby
Being a true “70’s” baby, I’ve somewhat given up on the dismal state of today’s Crap Muzik as it is endlessly being churned out of all Hip Hop oriented media outlets (radio, television) like pork sausage out of a meat grinder. Understanding how the corporate monster operates, (exploitation until the point of oversaturation, or ‘point of diminishing returns), it’s clear that in our capitalistic society (eff a democracy, never was, never will be), the cause for the genre’s demise is far more complex than simply blaming one sole source. The factors leading up to Hip Hop’s current state is numerous and evolutionary, but also portrays the essence of everything under the sun, nothing stays the same, everything is impermanent. Adapt and evolve or get left the eff back. Understanding how EVERYTHING nurtured in Black culture (jazz, rock & roll, r&b , hip hop, soul food, style of dress, slang, sexy ass women of color, etc) has and will eventually be consumed, reinterpreted, remixed, cannibalized, dictated and spit out by our mass culture circus, it’s more than obvious that we’re all riding together in this church van to hell.
But lo’ and behold, the more things change, the more things stay the same.
I recently came across an example of some jig eager to get props by
attempting to create a “civil war” in the form of “80’s babies” vs. “70’s
babies” beef, thus upholding the tenets of the old Willie Lynch speech.
Dick-some-more’s thesis claims that the dismal state of today’s Hip Hop is in no way the fault of the ’80’s generation, but that the responsibility lies at the hands of cats like Hova and Damon Dash (Roc-a-fella), Irv Gotti (Murder Inc.) and other numerous music execs from the “Me Generation” that were instrumental in creating mad employment opportunities for idjits like him. Suck-much-more even gives a weak excuse in claiming that “us “crack babies” are only a product of our environment and upbringing” thus rendering him and his generation totally helpless from having any type of redemptive influence in resuscitating this Crap shit or in creating new types of art forms to bang to. That’s weak dude, last I heard, “excuses are tools for the incompetent”. But hey, let me, for a moment, bitch up and subscribe to this lame’s theory that today’s environment is too eff’d up and oppressive to create new, hyped unprecedented shit. Comparing today’s environment to yesteryear, us 70’s niggas faced, experienced, lived through the following (in no particular order):
welfare in abundance, the explosion of the crack epidemic, the introduction of a deadly new disease by the name of AIDS, effd up polyester suits, the tail end of bad exploitation flix, fug ugly ghetto chicks, no shortage of blowed up tenement buildings in our urban cities, Reaganomics in full effen effizect, Billy Dee Williams, White boys and rock music reigning supreme, effeminate r&b dudes heating up the charts, disco, Son of Sam, shags and jherri curls, NBA niggas rocking nut hugging briefs on court, effed the effed up subway systems, no cable TV, the 77′ NYC Black Out, no West Coast (or Dirty South) dick licking, (shit, no effin West Coast), original NYC gangs like the Jolly Stompers and the Tomahawks, Olde English 800, trey bags, no MTV Cribs just cracker jack ass Life Styles Of The Rich And Famous, Dallas, Dynasty, The A Team, Fantasy Island and Love Boat, no lap tops, no cell phones, raw unprotected sex (yes!!!) , no Rolex, no Bentley’s, no MTV, no corporate Black Cards, no Hip Hop publications, no Hip Hop videos, no Hip Hop radio, no Hip Hop clubs, no Hip Hop blogs, NO EFFIN” HIP HOP !!!! Now, if my memory serves me correct, niggas didn’t waste their time getting their boxers all up in a bunch and cryin about shit and their environment, niggas manned up and evolved.
Now before I get dismissed as being a “grumpy old man, living in the past and hugging my De La Soul Is Dead cassettes”, ain’t no T La Rock, Just-Ice Jordache shit over here son. To all my new niggas repping the 80’s baby set
correctly, no stray shots aimed your way (whaddup Bol, Eskay?). This ain’t
about East vs. West, 70’s vs. 80’s, old vs. new, it’s about niggas and bitches, money and power, and a grown man learning one of his son’s right and proper in the middle of the street.
Now, I can understand Dick-some-more’s frustration with 80’s Babies supposedly having a tough task at hand, but yo, that’s life dun. Buck the eff up or get the eff out of the way! For the life of me, I can’t understand how niggas like you allowed Laffy Taffy and Yung Joc niggas to run ya’ll ragged like track meets. Seems to me it’s waaaaaay past time for yellow purty mouthed ijgs like this kid to stop their blood clot cryin’. A good start would be to remove cracker jack’s nutt sacs from yer tonsils and getting Saigon’s unit from being stuck waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay up from inside you!
Nullus.
