Tuesday, October 7, 2008

You can't rap. I'm sorry.


Before I begin - let me just say that I don't object to hip hop as an institution. In fact, I love hip hop in (almost) all of its various flavors, and it probably gets the majority of my listening time. I believe that freestyle rapping is a definite skill, and I have done my share of verses dropped off the top of my fuzzy little dome. I even put together a rap "album" with my friend in 2002.

With that being said, let me stress that 2002 was SIX YEARS AGO. Even then we were a bit late to the whole wave of "conscious" or "underground" four-elements-stressing, verse-spitting, b-boy-document-rocking rap that (in my opinion) peaked in 1999 with Mos Def, People Under the Stairs, Quannum Projects, Quasimoto's first album and the Rawkus records stable as a whole. It was fun. It was dope. It was fly. Save it for the cypher, dog. It's over.

That being said, PLEASE DO NOT GRAB MY MICROPHONE WHEN YOU ARE DRUNK AND INSIST ON FREESTYLING WHILE THE PARTY WINDS DOWN. It's loud. It's tacky. You're corny and arhythmic. I'm tired. And your breath smells like booze. Keep in mind that I'm sober, you're not, and I still have to carry about 500 lbs of gear out to my car when this night is over. I've been on my feet for 6 hours answering requests to play Lil Wayne. I haven't heard of you before, I don't want to "peep your mixtape," and I don't know anyone who can sign you. I'm not that kind of DJ. I'm the kind who gets paid.

Okay? Great, thanks! :) :) :)

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