This post has nothing to do with Lil Wayne not getting top honors in MTV's Hottest MCs in the Game (2008) countdown that aired last night at 10. This post is about the garbage that MTV peddles as rap coverage, news and commentary. They exposed their ignorance with this one.

10. T.I.
09 .Andre 3000
08. Young Jeezy
07. Lupe Fiasco
06. 50 Cent
05. Snoop Dogg
04. Rick Ross
03. Lil Wayne
02. Jay-Z
01. Kanye West

Let's be honest, only about half of the MCs on that list deserve to be there--In fact, maybe only three: Kanye, Weezy and Rick Ross. Nearly everyone else belongs nowhere near a compilation of "hot artists," as Shake points out in his post about Andre 3000 coming in at number nine. I respect 3 Stacks, but at the midpoint of 2008, rating past lukewarm is an insult to all of the actually hot artists out here, the one's who have been putting in work. If MTV had their ear to the ground, they'd understand.

The people that tore it up and deserve a spot on that list are the ones we know well in the blogosphere; artists like Crooked I, Kidz in the Hall, Pusha, Bun B and others brought heat all year. Haven't these guys paid some dues in '08 to earn at least a nod on a hot MC's list? Mickey Factz, anyone? Does MTV even have any idea how many hip-hop weeklys Crooked I pulled together? These are the real hot artists, not the status-fucking-quo that MTV trots out every time they get a group together to chat about hip-hop.

The truth is, their coverage and commentary is stale, and those of us who know what's going on will smile and nod in respect for those named then turn around and put the truly hot artists on blast. I know what's playing in my CDP and it ain't Lupe, Jay or 50.

MTV has a lot of clout, and putting this list out reinforces their position as hype-men for deadweight on record labels. T.I. and 3 Stacks must have chuckled to see their names make the cut. What have you done for me lately?

With the Internet being what it is, there's a new formula that's started to emerge, and a lot of MCs--and heads--know what's up. Artists can distribute tracks on a weekly--if not daily--basis, and command a groundswell of support from a large group of listeners. It's all about credibility, and now that most of the distribution barriers have been broken down, there's not much excuse for an MC to be lazy: if you aren't dropping tracks regularly, you've definitely fallen off (especially if we're talking about a list of who's hot).

Communications technology is at a point where it affords every artist a tremendous amount of opportunity, if they're willing to work for it. Looking at MTV's list, I see only a handful of MCs who have displayed a level of effort equal to their ranking. It's unfortunate that the network, which has done so much for hip-hop in the past, can be so ignorant of what's actually happening in the genre today.

Prodigy, one half of Mobb Deep, has been writing explosive rhymes for years. Who can forget his verse on "Shook Ones," or any tracks off The Infamous for that matter? Mobb Deep's first few albums were certified bangers, dark and gritty rap that set the benchmark for other acts looking to connect with the streets. Since then, Havoc and Prodigy fell off a bit musically, but with P's recent solo release, H.N.I.C. 2, it's clear that the man still has a lot on his mind.

"Fuck jewelry, fuck rims. Let's spend on our protection," is part of the chorus to "Real Power is People," a track that is on some deep conspiracy shit. In fact, if not paying close attention, Prodigy's second verse can slide right by on the strength of the beat. But taking more than a cursory look reveals that P is talking the shit that you'll be hard-pressed to find articulated anywhere else in the music industry.

I'll tell you a lil secret, it's a secret government that worship a owl / and practice witchcraft to harness they power / pedophiles rape little kids for energy / the satanic ritual: WTC (RIP) / They lit the Pentagon on fire / That's like lightin' a pentagram on fire / All these bodies for what? / So you can scare everybody in the one world, huh?

Yes, that lyric is about worship of a demon owl named Molech, among other cult practices that Prodigy is concerned about. This is the kind of verse that makes a reviewer pause to scratch his head: I've been a longtime listener of Mobb Deep, but even when Prodigy was at his most paranoid those early recordings never carried this degree of psychosis.

The track "Illuminati" finds Prodigy discussing his mental journey from the streets to illumination. Starting from psychoactives like DMT and peyote (drugs that often appear in discussions of the Illuminati) P explains, "America's fake, I was fast asleep, but now I'm wide awake / I was under the spell of king rule and reserve notes / religion and fashion, I used to be flashy / till I had a total recall, forgot what I knew / I took me 33 years, for me to see the truth."

So Prodigy is definitely on the conspiracy theory tip. The chorus to the aforementioned song? "Illuminati on my mind soul and my body, secret society's trying to keep they eye on me." A quick spin of H.N.I.C. 2 really leaves one wondering, just what is Prodigy talking about? Well, wonder no longer, because P has a guest blog up at Vibe (written from jail) that explains everything. Though Nah Right characterized the diatribe as one about freemasonry, Prodigy is actually worried about a different secret society, that (he says) kidnaps children for ritual sacrifice:

PEOPLE I’M SORRY TO SAY BUT 95% OF THESE MILLIONS OF MISSING CHILDREN ARE BEING USED AS A PART OF THESE ELITE SOCIETIES DEMONIC AND SATANIC RITUALS. THEY ARE BEING SEXUALLY MOLESTED BECAUSE IN THESE IN THESE SATANIC RITUALS WHEN THEY MOLEST A CHILD THEY’RE CONJURING UP A NEGATIVE ENERGY.

Prodigy is referring to the the Bohemian Grove secret society, a group that was recently infiltrated and filmed by Alex Jones. It's really phenomenal that Prodigy, the guy who produced some of the best street lyricism in the 90s, has become so enamored with conspiracy theories. I don't use the word 'enamored' lightly here: his post at Vibe--an all caps harangue with the occasional typo--is well-researched (as far as conspiracy theories go). Google some of the stuff he talks about, smoke a blunt, and try to wrap your head around it.

Whatever you think about Prodigy's new direction, his subject matter is some heavy shit--and that's more than most MCs out there can say right now. Peep the cover of Mobb Deep's last album, Blood Money--Prodigy was clearly already on the Illuminati shit at that time. What's interesting is that no one has really picked up on this yet, and none of this info on Prodigy has made it into his Wikipedia entry nor into the entry for H.N.I.C. 2. These are clearly the big themes to him, now.

Some of the reviews suggest that Prodigy contradicts himself repeatedly, and all the critics are generally dismissive of those tracks devoted to secret societies and the like. The thing is, after this most recent blog entry, I really think P is coming out of the closet on this shit. Consider the following:

WHEREVER THESE LINES CROSS, THE EARTH PRODUCES NATURAL ENERGY THAT SHOOTS UP AND DOWN IN A VORTEX OR DOUBLE HELIX SHAPE. JUST LIKE THE SHAPE OF DNA. (PEOPLE IF YOU RESEARCH YOU WILL LEARN.) THIS VORTEX OF ENERGY IS NATURAL AND CAN BE USED FOR POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE; DEPENDING ON WHAT YOU’RE DOING WITH IT.

MANY IMPORTANT STRUCTURES ARE BUILT ON THESE CROSSING GRID LINES. THIS NATURAL SOURCE OF ENERGY CAN ALSO BE USED TO POWER THE WORLD WITHOUT ELECTRICITY, NUCLEAR ENERGY, GAS, FUEL OR ANYTHING ELSE THEY’VE GOT TO ENSLAVE, POISON, AND OR MAKE PROFIT OFF US ALL. BUT THAT IS A TOPIC FOR ANOTHER DAY.

I think I might start sending P some mail. He's got a ton of shit to talk about--I'd really love to hear his entire story. At the very least I hope he continues blogging, it's a pleasure to read this stuff. I'm excited to see what he has to say next.

I'm not going to pretend to be the most racially savvy person on the planet, and even though it's been within my sphere of academic study, I'm not going to pretend that a white person can ever "get" racism the way someone who experiences it daily can. But I am racially-aware and, as such, I can sometimes feel troubled by the music I listen to.

Now, I know that hip-hop is not all one thing. But I also know that most of what I bump is gangster rap/crack rap/whatever. I know it didn't used to be this way--that I came to more commercial stuff through the underground. And I know that some of what I listen to is made especially for kids like me--white kids from smallish cities who want a taste of the cool. I can accept that, even as I dislike it. I know what I listen to traverses a variety of social conditions and that I need to be conscious, even as I just enjoy the metaphor that hustling brings to my life.

Now ignore that masturbation above, as I am going to talk about this: I love it when people defend rap. I really do. Rap is so often a scape-goat that it's great top see voices from all sides. But too often I feel we see defenses like the Angry Black Woman's.

I'm not arguing that Angry Black Woman is wrong. But it does what so many people do which is classify "real" rap as whatever the problem is not. That is, if the problem is gangster rap, have no fear--"true" rap is nothing like it! On the one hand, there's the great point that no genre of music can truly be as bad as the institutionalized racism within this country. No music causes that problem. On the other hand, there's a line drawn between the good and the bad. And that what is bad is simply not true.

This is a arguement you find everywhere. Art is really not divided into categories of bad and good, but art and non-art. Patriotism is not a complex thing, but patriotic and non-patriotic. Hip-hop is apparently this way too. Something is either truly hip-hop or it's not hip-hop at all. (Gangster fans do this too--claiming that anything not hard enough is "gay" and "not music"--they just happen to be in the majority, in terms of numbers).

Why is it always an all-or-nothing proposition. Yes, the underground is hip-hop. It's a huge part of hip-hop. But that doesn't mean the commercial stuff isn't.

Additionally, I think more than any other genre, in hip-hop the realm between underground and commercial is blurred, thanks in large part to mixtapes. Is Lil' Wayne underground? All his success comes from underground releases (free releases at that)--his commercial stuff doesn't do nearly as well. Is UGK underground, even with commercial success? Even though they're gangster rappers? Can such clear-cut distinctions be drawn these days?

I respect what Angry Black Woman and others like her say. I respect that they try to expand the notions of hip-hop for those who are unfamiliar, for those who really do believe that Fiddy or Jay-Z or 2Pac are the be all and end all of hip-hop. But I also caution them to not do the same thing--to say that true rap, real rap, good rap, entirely about the underground scene. That nothing good can be gangster or commercial.

Rap is both commercial and independent. It's gangster and inspiring. It's misogynistic and pro-female. It's messy. It blurs lines. And hell, that's half the reason it's wonderful.

Man, his blog is a thing of hilarity. The two most recent posts are absolutely fantastic. I'll quote them here for your pleasure. The first is titled, "FROM A SKETCH 2 THE STADIUM ... A DREAM REALIZED," a short post amounting to only a single sentence: "this is my original sketch of the stage drawn at my dinning room table less than 2 months ago." The sketch of his 'Spaceship Platform' is truly something to ponder. The first comment? "Kanye you're a genius man I can't wait 4 your show! MTL may 20th!"

Of course.

Though that was a great blog entry, the prior post shows just how much thought Kanye has really been putting in to his tour. Under the title of "PLEASE FORGIVE ME SAC-TOWN," 'Ye apologizes for spacing the name of the town he performed in:

I can't believe I bust a spinal tap! It's no excuse for this I wish I could sink in a black whole. When I said Seattle and there was no crowd response I was up on my spaceship platform thinking damn... I think I just said the wrong city!!!!! I kind of muffled the words so I was praying nobody really caught it. I guess all those hours that me and Phill spent making my mic clear as possible back fired on me! We had alot of problems with the video servers on the first 3 songs and that completely threw me off! Hey, I'm not perfect. Hope everybody had a good time. I'm a man, I can say it... I'm sorry.

At least he knows how to give an apology without excuses (saying nothing of his ability to write a coherent English sentence), and that's cool. Ye is a monster in the blogosphere. Look out.

Project Pat is a phenomenal artist. He's a longtime affiliate of Three 6 Mafia, a double-felon convicted in federal court, and the North Memphis native who coined the exquisite neologism "Chickenhead" a few years back. But in addition to all this, Pat has one hell of an eye for album cover art.

Among his six albums are classic covers like Ghetty Green, which depicts Project Pat on security camera holding up a convenience store. A strategically placed Parental Advisory logo obscures what is surely a gun in Pat's hand. The best part of this cover is the cleark, a dorky white dude who takes up about half of the frame. The best track on this album: "Rinky Dink/Whatever Ho"--mainly because the skit at the beginning is fucking priceless, but also because it's a posse song.

So there's Ghetty Green--a great cover in its own right--but then there's Layin' Da Smack Down, a piece of album art that surely ranks in a top 10 list somewhere. The scene is a project landscape, and Pat, clad in black cap and mask, is spying a completely oblivious snitch. By the look in Pat's eye, and the suggestive album title emblazoned nearby, it is clear what's going to happen next. Layin' Da Smack Down, indeed. Best track on the album: "Shut Ya Mouth, Bitch"--wonder what was on Project Pat's mind when he put this disc together?

Perhaps Project Pat's best effort at a cover was his first. Murderer's and Robbers has cover art that feels a bit like Microsoft Paint, save for the bold texturing of the words "Project Pat," and the extruded font style used for "Underground album." Looked at objectively, the artwork reminds of a detective's cluttered desktop: just who is this 'Project Pat,' and what's he doing in North Memphis?! There are a bunch of (what appears to be) newspaper clips scattered around, the best of which reads: "Another Player Hater Robbed At Gun Point." Project Pat is so uncompromising. I love it.

It's unfortunate that Project Pat has fallen off as of late: Walkin' Bank Roll is just another step down a musical descent that started with Crook By Da Book: The Fed Story. Though both discs have some memorable moments, they pale in comparison to Pat's older, underground work. Their newer, cleaner cover art reflects a sonic atmosphere completely devoid of the grit and grime that made albums like Ghetty Green so credible (and infinitely bumpable).

Some of the last, best work Pat did was on 2006's Gangsta Grillz 15 (Hosted By Project Pat), but some will argue that Crook By Da Book was an unequivocal success. Though a fun listen, it's nowhere near the authentic, street-quality of the Gangsta Grillz mix, and "Been Gettin' Money" simply can't carry the entire album.

If you've never taken any time to explore Pat's catalog, I highly recommend his early work--take some time and explore the discs above. Good shit.

This is exactly what it sounds like, a short award ceremony for our favorite crossover videos of the 1990s--the ones that took rap music from the urban to suburban. It's videos like these that made nervous white kids warm up to rap music (and I guarantee you most suburban rap listeners can recite this shit word-for-word, whether or not they will admit to it--even the hardest backpacker has the shadowy figure of Coolio lurking in their past).

Remember the movie Dangerous Minds? Yeah, me neither. But Coolio's braided dome is absolutely unforgettable. Though he looks somewhat like Pippi Longstockings, his isn't the only strange mug in the video. I wonder where the guy who sings the chorus is today--because you love him on this track, but he's completely unbelievable as a solo artist.

This track is full of gems such as "Too much television watchin' got me chasing dreams," or "Even my momma thinks that my mind is gone!" Beyond the memorable lyrics, however, is a strange title, "Gangster's Paradise"; at once easily dismissed as too romanticized, it becomes strangely poetic upon a second look. Just what is Coolio getting at here!? Just what exists in a Gangster's Paradise?

If you have subs, I would advocate that you burn a copy of "Gangster's Paradise" and bump it next time you roll out. I guarantee people will fucking love it.

Other Coolio hits such as "1, 2, 3, 4 (Sumpin New)" and "Fantastic Voyage" are crossovers in their own right, but they had nowhere near the appeal of "Gangster's Paradise"; a song equipped with lyrics impossible not to memorize. Coolio spoke to a generation of uncomfortable white people--and look where rap music is today (not that I want to bestow too much glory on the braided one).

One final thought: how hilarious would that set have been? Michelle Pfeiffer basically just sits and stares at Coolio for the duration of the video, looking sassy. I would have been unable to contain my laughter.

Death ain't nothin' but a heartbeat away, I'm livin' life do or die, what can I say?

Ooh, the haters is fucking mad! Lil Wayne's Carter III cover appeared on Amazon yesterday, and every hip-hop fan with a keyboard up in arms.

That's it. It's an infant sporting Weezy's notorious face tattoos, perhaps an image of young Wayne himself. Who knows what the real meaning behind it is--I'm sure Weezy will have something to say about it later--but who really cares? It's a cover that made you look twice. It's a cover that made you think twice. It's a cover that's probably going down in history. In the case of most mainstream rap bloggers, it's a cover that made you hit capslock and pound out an indignant, "WTF, WTF!"

WTF is right. What's the fucking big deal? Your favorite rapper's favorite rapper already put a baby on the cover of his greatest album, released more than a decade ago.

Or were you so ignorant that you forgot about Ready to Die? And if that's not enough for you, did you also forget your other favorite rapper's seminal album cover?

I mean cry me a fucking river mainstream bloggers. "Oh, holy shit! There's a baby on the cover! And look, he's got (fake) tattoos all over his mug!" What passes for commentary in most of the blogosphere is a joke, and as far as art criticism goes, the top writers are about as status quo as it gets. Of course they love Kanye's recent cover yet hate Wayne's. Of course they'll pan a cover with an infant on it, completely neglecting the history of hip-hop's greats.

In the grand tradition of rap-blog-acronyms, I'll give you a "SMH" and a "GTFOH."

Until anyone commenting in the rap community can actually provide a coherent assessment of just what is wrong with this cover (in the context of album covers like Ready to Die and illmatic) then I'm just going to have to label everyone hypocrites. "No Words" is not a sufficient criticism. Neither is calling it an April Fools joke or writing LOL. My favorite description of the cover though? an abomination.

Wow, just wow. The rest of you may have "no words," but I've got at least one, and that's ignorant.

(I will, however concede that the suit is a bit tongue-in-cheek, and the typography a little strange. Overall it's just a tatooed baby--not exactly an abomination.)

(And hey, speaking of Kanye, if he's not being sarcastic, I have to give props for what he wrote about the Carter III cover.)

Update: to clarify, I'm not hating. I love AZ. I'm just so incredibly disappointed with Undeniable. Definitely one of the biggest let downs (for me) this year. I was unimpressed with the singles, even though I posted them here, but I held out hope that the album would pick up the slack. I was wrong!

Other let downs in 2008: The Eleventh Hour. Sorry, Del. We waited seven years for that?

What happens when you take all the stars out of the traditional Miami-DJ Khaled-Rick Ross rap equation? You're left with this, Ace Gutta--the most forgettable MC ever--and his digital handycam. See below:

This is hands down T-Pain's worst performance on a chorus ever. Besides being borderline unlistenable, it's completely ridiculous. You need your cashflow? Put your hands in the air? I'm confused. But T isn't alone in his dismal effort; the Runners came up empty handed with a bottom-of-the-bin beat. I wonder how long this one's been on the shelf.

Rick Ross is terrifying. I'm used to seeing him speeding around on big yachts in Ultra-HD; getting him here on some guy's Sony is reminiscent of the Blair Witch Project--it just makes him too real. Before this he always existed as something of a fictional character, just hanging out in Florida doing studio rap about blow and partying from dusk till dawn. Now, I see that he is indeed a real person, and sort of like a grizzly.

I'm underwhelmed by Rick Ross' performance skills. I recognize that this video actually has concert footage, but I'm suspicious. Would it actually be any good? When thought about in concrete terms, a Rick Ross show could possibly be the most boring event on Earth. I've never attended but I did once see 8-Ball do a set, and I can tell you that it was labored.

DJ Khaled looks a lot like Emlilo Estevez in this one. Also, could he do one video without jumping around like a moron? We the best.

Anyway, all this is to say that Ace Gutta has no career ahead of him. I'll never understand why videos like this make it on to the major blogs. It's really just ridiculous. Shit's getting real derivative down in Miami.

Update: Forgot to mention that I honestly laughed out loud at this. DJ Khaled reminds me of a bad actor from mid 90s Nickelodean. Like, he would do well hosting "Double Dare" or "Wild 'n' Crazy Kids!"

If you're looking for real beats, see here.

I hate nerdcore.

Now, I'm going to be honest upfront before I go into what may become a diatribe--I haven't heard that much nerdcore. I've checked out a few of the major player's tracks, I've watched the trailer for that documentary, I've read the articles, and I've observed the culture (via blog posts and the like). I'm not an expert, so understand that what follows is not an attack on one person or a set of people or whatever. It's an attack on over-arcing themes.

Let me start by getting my biggest pet peeve out in the open: I hate that nerdcore is even considered a sub-genre of rap. The people who decided rap wasn't nerdy clearly hadn't listened to much rap. Besides the U-N-I track with a chorus about Nintendo controllers, the rap I listen to involves people who rhyme about their shoe obsessions, a group that names themselves after kung-fu B-movies, a guy who has multiple personalities based off comic book characters, Kool Keith, and, hell, even Lil' Wayne referencing The Gremlins. Sure, they may be gangster overall, but since when is that incompatible with a little geekery?

That pet peeve opens up perhaps my biggest disagreement with the nerdcore movement, which is that it's exclusive as hell. I know that a lot of things are, and a lot of things I am involved in are, but the revelry that nerdcore fans take in being fans of an exclusive moment is legendary. I know nerds get off on being better than everyone, and that shit pisses me off generally, but never more so than when it turns what I feel is an inclusive genre into something about making privileged people feel better about themselves.

I know people may not agree that rap is inclusive as, in particular, so-called mainstream rap tends to talk about the very specific experiences of people engaging in criminal behavior from very specific types of neighborhoods. I'm aware. But the difference lies entirely in the ways in which these situations are presented, the ways in which language is used.

Nerdcore songs, as far as I can tell, go like this: "Reference, reference, reference, reference/reference, reference." It's the musical equivalent of Meet the Spartans. Now, rap references a lot of shit too, and tends to get meta at times, but it doesn't referencethings so that you feel good about understanding said reference ("Holy shit, I program with ruby too! I AM amazing!" versus "Oh cool, I know who the ice creamers are"), it does so because it makes sense at the time. Additionally, as I have argued before, rap teaches you and draws you into its world. The first time you hear something about birds you may be totally confused, but after a track or two (or another listen) you'll have figured that shit out, no problem.

No one exemplifies this better than Disszee Rascal. Most rappers use regional slang, but Dizzee comes from the region of London's East End, making his slang have a whole mess of back-story most U.S. listeners know little about. Yet, look at his track "Jezebel":

"Constant boasting bragging to her friends/Juiced every boy in the ends"

It doesn't matter if you've never heard the word juiced used in that way before--if you don't figure out it's meaning the first time around, you'll have gotten it by the second. It invites you in, as opposed to songs about Star Wars, which invite you in...if you happen to already have a fair bit of knowledge about Star Wars.

The exclusion of nerdcore largely gets my goat because it's just so damn white. Now, I'm white. I come from a white state. I live in a white place. But, despite it's diversity, I'd be a fool not to recognize rap's black roots. And while I know that not every black person is from the hood, nor is hip-hop entirely made by people from the hood, the fact of the matter is that some rappers are and, being from that situation, they hardly had time to sit around and play lots of D&D and use IRC. And to call your genre of music after that specific type of rap (geeksta, anyone?) smacks of an inability to get just what white privilege is and why it's a bad thing. It's basically: "Sorry about all that, poor people of color, but is it cool if we semi-mock music you use to express yourself in order to talk about things that we exclude you from? Also, we will use this music to talk about how we are oppressed. Because, dude, we sooo are."

I don't want to end there, on a note that makes me sound like the white guiltiest Liberal Arts student ever, so have this less intelligent thought--I also hate nerdocre because a lot of it seems to be in the rap-paraody arena, wherein rhyming words=rap! It's like, have you bitches ever heard of flow!?

Kool Keith is the GOAT. Don't for a second think otherwise. Since it would be a truly difficult task to try and explain his musical wisdom in a single post (a task I just gave up on moments ago), it seems more appropriate to focus on one aspect of his variegated song-writing: the anger within. Kool Keith invented real talk, and has an ensemble of songs to prove it.

F-U M.F. is a great place to start. Off the disc that taught me how to rock baby blue, Matthew, this track is the album opener and Keith wastes no time telling haters that they can suck his dick. "Standin' like you running shit, you ain't the fuckin' president! / Posin' wit ugly bitches in your video who take AIDS medicine!"

There's something completely gruesome and ominous about this beat. "Yeah, you been rappin' for twenty-thousand years and you ain't got your fuckin' deal yet?" In the end Keith starts to describe how he's going to amputate the haters' faces right off of their collective skulls. Other anger off Matthew comes in skit form with Recoupment, and the violent second track: 27 Shots. "Tell your A & R and his wife to get out my fuckin' life! Twenty-seven shots!"

As dark as the shit on Matthew is, No Chorus, off First Come, First Served is even more macabre. Keith takes on his Dr. Dooom persona and demonstrates how to conduct the off-beat rhyme: "I hope your bitch is in the audience, your wife too: that's your fanbase." Keith takes some pretty open shots at rap-industry big-wigs--though he doesn't go so far as to name-names, he makes it apparent who he's talking about. Definitely a favorite Keith track of all time.

In N.B.A., Keith delivers a "message to the NBA," during which he manages to once again bring up AIDS tests before addressing the intellect required to be a professional basketballer: "Keep lookin' in the club for your celebrity jump-shooters / tall lean men that can't read books to they kids, need tutors." This track, off Spankmaster, isn't the first time that Keith deals with NBA athletes; on White Label Mix Series VOL. 1 is a banger titled "27 Teams," on which Keith goes so far as to yell, "Take your basketballs and stick it up your ass!" No, really.

See also on Spankmaster: Jealous and Haters. No explanations needed here, the pithy titles capture their essence quite well.

On I Don't Believe You, Keith's spends three minutes denying everything your favorite rapper has ever said.

Perhaps Keith's greatest affront to the haters comes in the form of an Intro on 1997's legendary Black Elvis. This is truly a song that must be heard to be understood: a bizarre, tongue-in-cheek serious of questions transitions seamlessly into an effortless two-minute verse during which Keith proclaims, "That's right, tomorrow I plan to boo your shows at the Apollo!" A rap classic that cements Keith as the king of real talk.

I know I'm missing a few gems, specifically off Kool Keih Presents: Thee Undertakerz, but my mp3 library is a little thin after the recent crash. This, however, is a sufficient introduction to the way Keith absolutely exorcises his enemies. Real talk.

Why are people hating on DJ drops?

When the new Clipse, We Got It For Cheap Vol. 3 dropped, I downloaded the mix hosted by DJ Drama, virtually assuring me a disc overflowing with gunshots and body-drops--not to mention "Gangta grizzilz!" no less than one dozen times. And yet, this is the album I downloaded. In fact, I chose it over the raw version. Cats want to hate on the DJ interrupts, when the truth is, those interrupts make tracks.

DJ Drama is no one without his name. Neither is Clinton Sparks. People hate hearing their voices come in at :38, but you can bet those same fans run straight to a mix that has DJ Drama or Clinton Sparks plastered on it. That shit get seeded on bittorrent, and it's because DJs like Sparks and Drama are quality distributors. People don't see that they redefined the rap game to model the crack game. When people want that raw, they head to the dealer they trust. It's the same business model.

As much as we want to hate on DJ drops in favor of pure music, it's obvious that chants like "It's Mr. Thanksgiving!" shouted over and over that make discs fresh. Blasting Drama mixes, windows down, is a statement that makes for a memorable musical experience. Purists be damned: this is pure-fucking-hip-hop. Distributors are part of the game.

Circumventing the RIAA is what it's about. Rap music beat Radiohead to the punch years ago. Respect to mixtape DJs everywhere--yes, even DJ Khaled.

Seen this one yet? It's made the blog rounds--for some reason the elite NY hip-hop blogging syndicate still has a soft spot in their hearts for Fat Joe. His new tracks just pop up everywhere, and if you check the blogosphere on a slow day, you're likely to see something about Joey Crack still lingering on the front page like a bad fart in the air.

I considered titling this post "I'm in the best shape of my life," (uttered by beloved Joe as the camera performs a sweeping pan out), but then I realized that the foundation for this beat is made up of only the best testosterone laden lines culled from last year's hyper-masculine, jingoist hit 300. The absurdity encapsulated in this almost made me forget the endearing moment of self-deprecating humor that he started the track with.

But no, "300 Brolic" isn't a song about the Joe's weight (hard to believe, I know). This song is about so much more. This song is about values. The values of Sparta, baby; this is where we fight, this is where we die! (Cue gritty footage of the Bronx.)

There's a lot of phallic symbolism in this video. Lots of missiles and bombs and shiny-steel tubes rising skyward. There's even some housing projects that look like dicks. Maybe I'm giving this video too thorough of a reading, but from my understanding the movie 300 was made to provide a kind of homosexual, misogynistic outlet for highly-aggressive high school boys (who are mostly homophobes themselves). Now we've got Joey sampling it--no, not sampling, constructing an entire song around a 300 motif--and then filling the video with erections.

He also raps about brutal castration ending with the severed penis being stuffed into the victim's mouth (it's part of the chorus, in fact). Is Fat Joe trying to tell us something?

Anyway, I'm just saying.

He's more animated in this thing than I've ever seen him. We're used to Papa Joe sitting down, or at least filmed from the shoulders up doing a bit of swaying back and forth; but to see him at full-length, and actually doing some semblance of a dance? It reminds me of the time I saw Rick Ross run from a car and plummet off a bridge into the Pacific (I was speechless).

Needless to say this activity is a big step for Fat Joe. It's not like he was ever hiding from his weight, (his moniker does bear the prefix 'Fat'), but he truly has embraced the fact that he is indeed the Elephant in the Room (drops in March, fools). I have to give a slow clap for that clever album title. Say it loud, fat and proud.

Oh, and did I mention that Fat Joe is biting Lil Wayne, now? Listen to the verse and tell me he didn't completely steal Weezy's delivery, enunciation and word aspiration. I'm saying c'mon Joey, give it up. And NYC bloggers? The honeymoon should be way-fucking-over by now.

And speaking of bullshit in the NYC hip-hop blogosphere: why the fuck is everyone posting the new Blood Raw video? Dude is a Young Jeezy ripoff at a 7th grade reading level. I seriously think the cats in the NYC blog scene get paid to push this trash.

Juvenile's "Ha", a video that dropped in 1998 with little more than a murmur of praise, is in hindsight a definitive video for the former Cash Money star, one which brought true New Orleans patois and unabashed ghetto imagery to MTV audiences nationwide. In "Ha" we are given a stick-thin Juve, very much at home in the Magnolia projects. He raps on street corners and from porch steps; in alleyways and on sidewalks framed with graffiti.

Though there is action in the video, it is not a traditional southern bounce jam. The lyrics are charged, and yet for a majority of the video, viewers are presented with still images in a slow series: a shirtless man by a telephone pole, EMT's posing in front of an ambulance and the boys and girls of NO standing long-faced and wide-eyed amid the neighborhood; in "Ha," there is nothing much to hide.

The purity of this video is apparent in every cut, and the authenticity of Juvenile and those that surround him is a testament to the quality of storytelling presented within. Much as a book of portraits can tell a story without words, "Ha" presented on mute also provokes a very visceral reaction.

Many listeners--particularly the backpackers and NY hip-hop heads--dismissed "Ha" as being inundated with slang and possessing very little lyrical quality; not betraying the song's title, Juvenile does indeed spit the word "Ha" to end almost every line of every verse. Those who object to this lyrical form are disregarding the song based on a flimsy criteria: repetition has always been a key component of rap music, and yet there is still something new to be discovered in "Ha", because unlike much of southern rap today, the song is honest to its core. With "Ha" Juvenile betrays neither himself nor his community. His speech remains unaltered and deep while his community provides a backdrop for the music.

"Ha" is very much a cultural video, and the pictures provided inside are brilliant. Take for example the children at 18 seconds, the man at 22 seconds, the group photo and EMTs (at 29 and 30 seconds respectively) and Juvenile himself at 44 seconds. These are the pictures in which the first verse is framed, and none is more poignant than the open shirted Juvenile standing alone near a chain link fence. In this image (44 seconds) he isn't rapping about the ghetto, nor is he flashing gold teeth. He's standing, dressed in his regular street duds, looking slightly downward with urban decay surrounding him--this image alone says more than most hood rappers did in 2007. How many of them can even return to the projects to film a shot like this?

The pictures continue for the duration of the video, and as a cultural artifact "Ha" is brilliant in this regard: it is the rare combination of music reflecting culture in both words and images. There is also a tension inherent in "Ha," with sports cars being placed in the ghetto setting. These symbols of wealth and achievement are out of place and yet celebrated by the entire community as groups of men lounge on them. Though Juvenile has chosen to add these vehicles to his video, he has also chosen to present them to us in a certain context: that from whence he came.

In "Ha" there is something unique and very New Orleans. I love to give this video a play every now and then, though I must admit that at first I never understood it.

I'm familiar with Rap Snacks. I've seen them in stores and even purchased a few. I'm familiar with the many Rap Snack flavors, from Mack 10's "Red Hot Cheddar" to the YoungBloodz "Southern Crunk BBQ." What I didn't know, however, is that each Rap Snack comes with not only a celebrity rap-star in cartoon form, but a slogan to boot.

And what does Birdman have to say to us on the cover of his "BAR-B-Quin with my Honey Popcorn"? Just a pithy bit of advice for today's youth snack-consumers: "Stay Away From Guns." Man, I almost wet myself at that one. Though I'm unsure of why the slogans are included at all, I'm completely fucking nonplussed at who's believing them. I mean really, Birdman telling us to "Stay Away From Guns" on the cover of his honey BBQ popcorn rap snack? Quick, someone pass me a towel so I can wipe my purple drink off the keyboard--I just sprayed everywhere.

Look at the bag: the anti-gun mantra is just below his name, kids.

And hey! There's more to this post than convenience store goodies! In case you slept on Birdman's recent effort, 5 Star Stunna, I've got your crack right here, and don't forget: stay away from guns!!

Birdman f. Lil Wayne - Believe Dat (zShare)

This might be something amazing or it might be really nerdy. Okay. Ready?

There's this Hot Boys song by the name of Blood Thicker (from the seminal 1997 Cash Money Get It How U Live!). The chorus is this darting, fraternal call-and-response chant between Juvenile and Lil Wayne and I listened to this song something like a BAZILLION times trying to figure out where I thought I'd heard this before. It goes like so:

JUVENILE
load it up slide it in cock it back pop it out load it up slide it in yall die

LIL WAYNE
load it up slide it in cock it back pop it out CMB 226 we all ride

And I couldn't place it until I gave up on the hunt and went back to working on final essays. I'd been writing a term paper for an Apache ethnicity/history class on John Ford's 1939 film Stagecoach (Ford's first film in Monument Valley and John Wayne's first time under Ford, it pretty much set the standard for the traditional American film western and made both men synonymous with the American West). Anyway, I was writing this paper while I was discovering/recovering the Hot Boys' discography so I was pretty much on lock-down in my apartment playing Get It How U Live! on my stereo and Stagecoach on my tv, on no sleep, no food and a belly fulla coffee. It was delirious.

And there's scenes with the cavalry because, hello, it's a western.

And if you're in the military, have ever seen a movie about the military, have been to horse races, have seen movies about horse races, or remember the television western Rawhide, or the animated feature film An American Tail Part II: Fievel Goes West, you're probably going to already be familiar with the First Call, used to "sound as a warning that personnel will prepare to assemble for a formation."

So I put this shit together and realized that this was maybe the most poignant example of intertextual incorporation of historical themes that I'd come across in hip hop--since Nas dropped Hip Hop Is Dead the same week I saw The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence for the first time and opened a file for the book I will probably never write because I'll be busy writing other books--because on the one hand the cavalry's all about ridin' out and killin' redskins, but on the other hand the cavalry's also totally The Man in every sense of the west--they had guns but they were by no means the cowboys and, in fact, allusions to generic western motifs and imagery in rap usually aligns the speaker with the Native Americans (even the slang appropriation follows--think cheifin' reefer). Additionally the first call in particular has become weirdly woven into the American consciousness--our advertising, athletics, and pop culture. I

I'm getting too sleepy to wrap up all of this or organize all the relevant information in any coherent way so I'm going to end my first post here at WG by sputtering out and leaving it to the readers to plumb the significance of Cash Money's thematic pathological self-identification with the post-modern anti-heroic figures of revisionist rather than classical westerns.

Pitchfork, the Internet's defining hipster voice--at least for music--released their Top 50 Albums of 2007 earlier this week. Though I agree with a lot of their picks in general, the rap albums they deigned to include show how ridiculously out of touch they are with the genre.

All told, Pitchfork selected six rap albums: Dizze Rascal (48, Maths + English), Ghostface (42, The Big Doe Rehab), Wu-Tang Clan (38, 8 Diagrams), Kanye West (18, Graduation), Lil Wayne (16, Da Drought 3) and Jay-Z (13, American Gangster). Can you tell me what's wrong with this list?

1930s gangsters, 70s Motown, 80s DePalma, 90s Shawn Carter-- it'd be a stretch to call Jay-Z a postmodernist, but few MCs exhibit the kind of passion for wrapping themselves in pop culture history that he does.

The sentence "Few MCs exhibit the kind of passion for wrapping themselves in pop culture" does not compute. Has the author of that tidbit of wisdom ever seen a rap video? Sigh.

Somehow the "postmodern" pop-culture whiz Jay-Z landed three spots ahead of Lil Wayne's double-disc RIAA-defying, genre-redefining masterpiece, Da Drought 3--maybe it was his camel-faced slow flow that did it, but it just doesn't make sense to me; did Pitchfork even listen to American Gangster? Nas murks Jay-Z on it. Listen to the track they did together, it's like comparing night and day. Two lazy, emotionless Jay verses serve as a lead in for Nas, who completely exposes Jigga by simply appearing on the track.

Jay - Z f. Nas - Success (zShare)

Jay - Z f. Nas - Success (RapidShare)

My other beef with the list is that three of the albums were December releases. How are you going to include three fourth quarter albums on a list of six? And how does it make any sense that a list including fan-favorite Kanye doesn't also include the most recent UGK effort? Where's Dillagence? Where's Bayani? Color me confused. Pitchfork may have the hipster market down, but they don't know shit about rap--their picks aren't hip, their completely pop.

But hey, at least they like Weezy better than Ye.