Editor’s note: BILLY SUNDAY doesn’t have too many friends at XXLMAG dot com because he writes shit like this…
I posed this very same question to readers at DALLAS PENN Dot Com two years ago after I read this dope piece in Vanity Fair about how the SugarHill Gang was formed. Did y’all know that them niggas didn’t even know each other from another blank nigga on the street? One of the dudes was a weedcarrier for GrandMaster Caz and stole that nigga’s rhymebook in order to create the song lyrics for ‘Rapper’s Delight’. In reality, the very first incarnation of rap music that was played on the radio was actually ghostwritten. The game was bullshit from out of the gate and I didn’t even know that much. All the producer, Sylvia Robinson knew was that jigs up in Harlem were snapping their fingers to this shit and she and her hsuband needed a hit record to pay back some of that mob money they owed from previous failed disco recordings.
Now ain’t that a bitch?!? Literally, and figuratively.
So all throughout my life the music that I used as my personal fucking soundtrack for when I wanted to get high, or get some pussy, or voice my social and political frustrations was merely a sham created to make me want to consume shit. Fuck! I hate when I get bamboozled. This is why I never believe Black people when they say anything. As soon as you turn your back that motherfucker will be trying to get money from you to line his pockets.
Fucking Run-DMC sold me a lifestyle that had me wanting shelltoe adidas and a black fedora hat. The Beastie Boys convinced me to invite my white friends over to party in the basement of my parents’ crib. Public Enemy had me wearing a stopwatch around my neck along with an African medallion. Slick Rick convinced me to buy a pair of Bally shoes. N.W.A. taught me not to give a fuck about a racist pig cop. A Tribe Called Quest said that it was cool to be Black and NOT be mired in poverty so that your mind could think of other shit like effing chicks. Yo-Yo made me want a broad with light green eyes. NaS reminded me all over again why I love this shit in the first place. All the while I’m being sold down the river.
I say all this to frame my feelings about the hyped up Hip-Hop that was officially released this week. Whether KanYe outsells Fifty, or vice versa, I hope every one of you that reads this drop buys both. Studies show that most of you won’t enter a polling station this November, but you will all spend hundreds of dollars between now and Election Day. Let your wallet be the hand on the lever and kindly vote to continue the charade of surreality that is rap music. I want to hear more songs of gun-slinging mayhem spoken by millionaires hermited away in sound studios on private mansions. I want to dance to more jams of available, intoxicated women recanted by people that couldn’t tell me what a woman even smelled like. This is the fantasy world that rap has always occupied from the minute it was first broadcast over the radio. And I don’t want it to stop.
I will remain faithful to the corporate ethos that has consumed Hip-Hop in it’s totality. I will spend all my wages on the items du jour. Spinning guns on my teeth, Louis Versolo on my ass, and candy paint on my 2008 Edsel SUV, sitting on 54 inch rims. I’m too far in to stop the fantasy so I might as well go hard since I can’t go home. Hip-Hop never had a home anyhoo. Shit was always on rented time. Standing back looking at KanYe and Fifty helped me realize this after all. KanYe’s desire for white bitches with no commitment or love, and Fifty’s lust for money with no conscience or social responsibility has illustrated to me that neither of these salesmen are artists in the first place. They are both just pitchmen for end of days lifestyles. What was I thinking before by trying to put on a cape and save Hip-Hop with my self-righteousness? The only way to save Hip-Hop is to spend all of my savings, and that starts with me going out and buying these two CD’s from the most expensive retailer I can find.
I want General Electric to see my vote loudly and clearly. Don’t stop the charade and parade of wanton imagery. I’ve built my life around this shit and I don’t want you to take it away now. More KanYe, more Fifty, more DipSet, more OutKast. Not so much Jeezy. More Redman, more Raekwon, and even [gasp] more Lil’ Wayne. I am ready to take the blue pill now (and possibly some purple ones too). Ignorance is bliss and I vote for Team Status Quo.
Stat Quo… Not so much.
first for the first time and this thing called rap (hip and/or hop) was garb from the get go. Not so much has changed. Why is it “dead” now and not then?
Hip Hop is not dead the people are. Walking zombies. WAKE UP!
I didnt even buy Ye or curtis..I went for movado’s cd..homie..i recommend it of you like That warlord/Bounty Killa shyt
wait we talkin hip hop huh? Nvermind..still if u want it [||] lemme know
good post btw
Yo Internet Celebrities both of ya’ll should go to the Westminister Dog Show rocking Mike Vick Jerseys
^fockin hilarious!
Yo all the American deer hunters, that are also “Mike Vick is immoral” are a fockin jokes. These rednecks are the biggest American hypocrites, with the exception of right-wingnut talkin heads like Bill Ho’Liely
Yo, this is the best shit evar!!! You need to make a video blog about this and post it up on the internets!!! DP for president!!!
Huh man.
ooh and this is why you will be my beating heart forever…i was just thinking this morning, what are the chances that all the consumers 18 and over that purchase 50 and Kanye this week will be at the polls?
Well we know the answer to that question, and it’s a sad state of affairs.
By the way I have that copy of Vanity Fair, that right there was some of the hottest Hip Hope Journalism and peep who it was marketed to.
Touche’!
This drop was worth its weight in gold….hand to the most high. Salute.
With so many bigger things at hand, why did this post make me feel sad [for hip hop]?
P. S. You are an excellent writer.
My mellow,
Hip-Hop ain’t dead. I am a scholar, at least that’s what my credit reads in the sneaker documentary JUST FOR KICKS. lol It’s rap, yes rap, (’cause Emcees are about as extinct as Chinese mocknecks and Spot Bilts) that’s on life support with 1 foot in the grave! I heard Kanye’s plate last week and it was about as disappointing as the final episode of the Sopranos. Actually, if you wanna rock with something from the Windy City, Common’s new joint is type butta! As far as I’m concerned, they should IED the whole fuckin’ rap industry and whoever is around to rebuild that shit, are the true gatekeepers/MCs of that shit. Being from the true school, I never thought I’d see the day when buffoonery, mediocre lyrics, homo eroticism –yeah, those big ass gaudy earrings and Fruit Loop pastel colors are suspect, people– studio gangsterism, and flagrant posturing would define an MC. In the immortal words of O.C., “their time’s limited, hard rocks too…”
Build n’ Destroy,
Koe 1 a.k.a. Son of the Sun
P.S. And fuck a vote! We good ol’ Democrats tried to keep Satan himself, a.k.a. George “dumb as a box of fuckin’ hammers” Bush out of office and look what happened! Shit is all strings, daddy-o! The only way to keep these fools out of office is with a nice vantage point and an even nicer “Oswald.” 😉
“heard Kanye’s plate last week and it was about as disappointing as the final episode of the Sopranos”
Final episode of Sopranos was the shit. Chase can spin that bitch off into a feature film series if he gets the writing team with the right stuff. Ya’ dig?!
KanYe album is the shit too.
Pharoahe Monch – Desire
Kanye West – Graduation
Talib Kweli – Eardrum
Black Milk – Popular Demand
Chamillionaire – Ultimate Victory
Common – Finding Forever
Fabolous – From Nothing To Something
Strong Arm Steady – Deep Hearted
Dilated Peoples – The Release Party EP
UGK – Underground Kingz
that’s so far for me…and i’m still waitin’ on Saigon, LB and Nas. Hip-Hop in 07 has been pretty good to me.
C’mon, D – how can you co-sign such a wack ending!?? I mean we all loved when Phil Leotardo’s head was turned into pulp by that Good Year, but that ending was “wick-wick…” Could you imagine if season 4 of THE WIRE ended with Stringer Bell being boxed-in by Omar and Brother what’s his name, guns being drawn point blank on him and then an ill freeze frame and credits begin rolling. That shit would’ve been deplorable! Instead, it ended the way it was supposed to end, with Stringer catchin’ a 9 milli and buckshot bath! Chase left the end open for interpretation and/or possibly a movie. In any event, that ending was ass du jour! Don’t get it twisted, I love the Sopranos like everyone else –hell, I’m evev from Jersey– but I can’t koe-sign those last 5 minutes. Chase n’ crew get a gas face for episode 86!
-KOEjack
P.S. Regarding Ye’s plate, we already built on that one, D. But I should’ve known what to expect on that album after seeing what he rocked for the photo shoot for his COMPLEX Magazine piece. Black Robb said it best, holmes – “WHOA!” lol
Truth!
Yo Zillz that Deap Hearted Strong Arm Steady album bangs so hard. In My Opinion top 5 album in 07 so far, No Hyperbole. DP and B.Sunday dont sleep
“I want to dance to more jams of available, intoxicated women recanted by people that couldn’t tell me what a woman even smelled like.”
^ Epic.