Rap Attack of the Clones

Rappers today have achieved levels of success that the pioneers of this generational phenomenon could once only dream of. What we are witnessing now is progressive prosperity: the seeds sown by Hip-Hop’s ancestors are being reaped by their present day offspring. Only now, the harvest isn’t as natural as it used to be – it’s […]

Rappers today have achieved levels of success that the pioneers of this generational phenomenon could once only dream of. What we are witnessing now is progressive prosperity: the seeds sown by Hip-Hop’s ancestors are being reaped by their present day offspring. Only now, the harvest isn’t as natural as it used to be – it’s a hopped up and recycled product, a shallow shadow of the precedence that once set this art form apart from anything anyone had ever heard before.

In short, some rappers today have managed to emulate the very words that they create in that they all sound the same. Granted, there is still much originality to be appreciated in what is now a global industry; however, we must remain mindful of what is being created in a process that is no longer an expression of individuality as much as it is a generation of corporate cash. And for record companies, the best way to maintain ‘money in the bank’ is to repackage and mass produce what has already been proven as successful.

“Sessions of Self-Destruction”

a.k.a.

“Rap Attack of the Clones”

We now live in a climate

Where lyrics are criminally minded.

We’ve been mentally blinded by

‘Thug Life’ tattoos and attitudes.

It’s one thing to call attention to city limits –

It’s entirely another when it’s

mimicked as a gimmick…

It’s an extrinsic epidemic of

facts misconstrued on wax tunes.

I’d rather see emcees

lyrically finesse with good hooks

Over emcees

interiorly recessed in hood nooks.

God forbid them coming spiritually correct

from the Good Book –

pigs would fly first.

Instead, most choose validation

By corroding their talents wasted

Into a pool of miscalculations

that drowns and hides their worth.

What’s embraced now in raps and flows

Is a blatant take on the files found in

Attack of the Clones.

Rabid tones are etched in stones

around the necks of folks with a new noose.

If we could replace half of the status quo

and flash that’s shone

With immaculate quotes filled

with facts for the dome…

We’d be masters of our souls –

yet instead, we disappoint like Episode II.

Caught in the middle of rap’s battle zone,

Hip-Hop’s new followers need chaperons –

Many have attached to roles where

crack is sold not in vials, but images vile.

No one hardly references the tracks of old

When veterans still had their souls…

If they’re not reppin’ capital,

their style’s not worth mentionin’ now.

New jack rappers seek

the easy way out in formulas

That have been easily

laid out for the consortia.

Don’t consort with them, I’m warnin’ ya’ –

their deeds mislead and strip the people.

Today’s rappers have stolen harmonies

in their criminal records –

They all commit bold larceny

with pitiful gestures…

When lines are contrived with minimal effort –

I just say no to the track and skip the needle.

I’m worn out by tired flows

and unoriginal ledgers.

I’m pullin’ horns out to blow

whistles on these whimsical jesters.

They’re timid little hecklers –

too afraid to stir still waters

without stolen thunder.

They’d rather whine

about windin’ waistlines

And invade minds with

tales of sellin’ base and dimes…

They’re all wastes of space and time –

collabos implode whenever these clones lumber.

If you didn’t get it, study physics –

the latter line’s at its baseline.

Like matter can’t occupy

the same space at the same time.

When we feel quakes, it isn’t the bass line –

it’s the ripple effect of self-destruction.

The way it reverberates

effects the system

And sternly shakes

the vertebrates of these mechanisms…

When words are fake, they wreck and wizen

the special wisdom once held in the subject.

This epidemic’s especially wicked

in the midst of cloning threats.

What once served as shock value

now controls the set.

Biggie Smalls was the older Fett –

clones of the vet know success

by emulating his role.

Rap’s overrun with so

many random Boba Fetts

Carrying theoretical handguns

and supposed threats

That the tones they’ve clepted now slowly beget

a single note that’s taken its toll.

Equal pitch and frequency

repeated causes resonation.

When left untreated, the damage

extends beyond reparations.

The aftermath’s a disastrous path

set in the wake’s run –

forget a takeover, take cover.

Like Todd after Diff’rent Strokes or

Like Nas when he rekindled his folklore…

The bridge will be over –

as chasms between Blacks and Rap

will crack from blasts of fake thunder.