Freedumb Song

This afternoon while walking downtown, a brother not much older than myself passed off a shrinkwrapped CD and a performance flyer. Now at first I was hesitant to accept the handoff, as being a hustle city alumni I know better than to believe any rapper is willing to provide product for free. But sure enough, the exchange was made sans commerce and he went about his way. Upon closer inspection, this brotha was representing himself a “rebelutionary” rapper, one of the chosen enlightened few who spat truth to the ignorant masses brainwashed by commercial crappery. I figured I’d bump the CD on my ride home, providing some free promotion for a fellow struggling artist who sought a better day for Black people. Following an uninspired introduction, he proceeded to launch into some of the most shameless, corrosive, and artless misogynistic drivel I’ve ever heard on wax. Several tracks worth, including one detailing how don’t nobody “got more hoes than him”. Swirling with flashbacks of Patricia Hill Collins funk with Kwame Ture, I reconsidered her warning that the revolution of the “Black man” really was intended just for those with dicks. There ain’t nothing revolutionary, progressive, or remotely Afrikan about weed smoking sista bashing under the guise of gun busting militancy. It ain’t work in ’68 and it damn sure ain’t gotten no better in ’08. So shut the fuck up, rabble rouser rapper, and go read a few more books before claiming enlightenment. Cause your current shine can’t lead a scared little boy out of a too-tight cardboard box of misguided masculinity.

Styles P - The Key

Real Rap

Rappers from Philly have a historically terrible penchance for the pen (and i ain't talkin bout the bic variety). Blame the city's seemingly ever escalating murder rate*, or more realistically, the fact that without the stable hip-hop industry infrastructure of NY or LA, there really ain't much else for a rapper in Philly to do other than whatever he would usually do when not rapping. And as Peedi Crakk among countless others has mentioned, that pretty much subjects one regardless of verbal talent and budding career to the same consequences of any other young brotha in said circumstances. So needless to say, some get caught up in the judicial system. And no matter the circumstance, each rapper ultimately generates a "free (insert name here)" campaign from the local hip-hop community.

While in no circumstances do I believe that this so-called justice system has any legitimate right to judge any descendant of enslaved Africans, in recent years I've come to understand that doesn't mean the accused is necessarily worthy of adamant (or even partial) support. Take the case of Cash Dollaz, an inarguably gifted emcee who without a shadow of any conceivable doubt (as per video evidence, victim confession, etc. etc.) disgustingly murdered, robbed, raped, and terrorized a couple earlier this year. Fuck that nigga. Hot bars does not excuse all injustices. Yet nonetheless, there seems to be a blightfully big blind eye turned to the terrors verbal trend-setters commit by their Black male peers. Pun, Biggie, and Kool G Rap are all perhaps equally prolific as woman beaters as they were influential and innovative artists. Mystikal videos don't just depict shakin it fast, but gang rape and extortion. And if we are to include all the countless spitters that pitch poison in the form of coke and dope curveballs, this paragraph could fill at least three legal tablets in tiny font. No, I don't expect rappers to be any better than their out of studio counterparts. But I am asking that their supporters think a lil more carefully about why exactly we want so and so "freed" more so than the countless political prisoners (from Jalil Al-Amin and Sundiata Acoli to Leonard Peltier) who are down for a real cause and or the innumerable brothas and sistas who don't enjoy the public profile to generate a (albeit ultimately fruitless) movement.

Enter Touch Money's Brick A Raw, who just this week apparently was sentenced to life in jail for a homi. While I'm in no position to judge the situation of what actually happened, and the court is no position to snatch away a person's right to freedom indefinitely, the fact of the matter is that catching a body coincides with the type of "real rap" he claimed to spit. Is it a shame he tried to make a living rapping about killing or a shame they took away his right to make a living off of an alleged killing? Both.

I'm neither a gangsta nor a gentleman and as such have little automatic empathy for either extreme. If the poetry is indeed a product of the environment as Uncle Russ continually reminds us, then all I'm asking is that perhaps a lil more thought go into connecting the dots from celebrating the artist to co-signing the (90% time) man.

Bricks - Criminal Background

* which, thank God, is dramatically down this year for some inexplicable reason that seems to underlie all homicide rates regardless of what criminologists crapshoot about.

AutoTune Is For Sap Suckas, TalkBox Is Strictly Trill

Lest you forget, or perhaps even worse, never knew. Teddy Pain/Lil Wayne/today's trend-hopping lame is the (very) poor man's Roger Troutman.

Respect the Architect.

Lesson Of The Day

I'll never voluntarily listen to Slum Village.

Poet Laurete of Death

What. the. fruck. This dude is the definitely drawin with subsequent bars of fury. If he wrote all this in jail, then most of these rappers on the streets have nooooooooooooooooo excuse.

C-Dot (Trouble Makers) Live From Parkside: