This whole hip-hop theme I’ve been exposed to lately has been rubbing off on me. Not so much the culture or Ebonics slang, but more the hypnotic beats that have me doing sitting body rolls during management class and keeping my mind on my money and vice-versa.
I don’t know what it is. I mean I’ve been tapped into the scene for nearly a decade now with the rest of you. Eazy E, Nas and Biggie were among the firsts. Today we’re graced with the lyrical genius of 50 Cent, Eminem and “Yeeeeah,” Little Jon. So why all of a sudden am I getting paranoid about the rap scene? Perhaps it’s because we’re not hearing anything new. It’s all been done before. Oh, and how in the world has L. L. Cool J been in the game this long? He’s like the Madonna of the rap game.
To tell you the truth, I’m pretty much in it for the beats anyway. I mean come on, are we really going to be driving down the street 20 years from now with our kids in the car listening to the oldies station and shouting out “I love this song” to Puff Daddy’s-excuse me, P Diddy’s-“Mo Money Mo Problems? Hard to imagine, huh? Or how about the great quotes of Jefferson and Lincoln being replaced in our kid’s textbooks with lines of Tupac reading, “Only God can judge me now.”
This past Sunday while at church, I ran into Bryce Peterson, a senior majoring in chemistry. After sharing my feelings toward the ridiculous claims of U philosophy professors, I asked him what he thought about a newspaper column completely devoted to views on gansta rap. He said that he was having a hard time getting the song about “sweat” and “females crawling” out of his head (whatever that means), even while trying to say his prayers in the morning.
Is it possible that hip-hop producers have discovered hypnotic beats that will forever remain playing in our “Goodies, not my Goodies?” You see what I mean? I can’t even finish writing a sentence without it coming into my head!
It’s not a bad thing, I’ll continue to listen to hip-hop, at least until I get married and baby’s momma starts trippin’. The funniest thing about hip-hop is the message. It’s never changed. From the beginning, it’s been about who has the most cheese (money), Breezees (girls), ice (diamonds) and kurz (cars). We get the message-you’re cool.
Another fascination I have with rap is the contrast it has with R&B. While one is professing that women bow down and serve, the other claims that a man should be down on his knees, begging her please.
The most original artists, such as Outkast, Eminem and Wu-Tang, will thrive, but the others will nose dive. Is there no wonder everyone in Eminem’s crew is African American? He’s not dumb; he knows that he’s authentic and that if another white boy steps on to the scene and outplays him, he’ll soon be history. It’s highly unlikely because the kid has the sickest (both cool and disgusting) lyrics ever.
Take my words for what they are, they might not even go that far, work in Spanish is trabajar…uh…OK, maybe these guys are more talented than I thought. Oh yeah…what pirates always say is Arr! I’m out.