Well, I’m actually thinking about one thing you are not entitled to. It’s that one unacceptable intangible that can never cross the Hip-Hop threshold. Many have attempted to smuggle it in, but it is met with opposition once it is detected. It’s everybody’s opinion, but your own.
I really hate the word hater. I
hate that ish with a passion. It’s one of those multi-purpose,
linguistic tools that is used for every occasion possible, but never actually fits. You know how it works. Hip Hop fan X goes out and buys his favorite artist’s latest CD (for those of you who still trek to the mall to do so). As
he listens to said CD, his stan-ship is once again confirmed and
anytime you and he are together, he’s going on and on about how great the album is. But what if you don’t like it?
You: Dog, can you turn that s**t off?
Him: You wild, son, Emcee [Insert Name Here] go hard!
You: Man, that s**t is wack.
Him: What!?! Dude, why you hatin?
No matter how you spin your dislike for your boy’s favorite dude,
you will always be known as the [Insert Name Here] hater. Write a thesis, add whatever reasonable argument you can, draw a bar graph; It really will not matter. This convo never has a happy ending. He will never accept that you just don’t like it.
So what is there to hate? He’s got cash? He gets the crazy fine bitches? His car is sitting on daaaamn 28’s? Well,
according to what we see in videos (R.I.P Rap City), so does
every other studio concocted fly guy rapper. So why would you hate on one allegedly fake rich, expensive whip driving, hot girl magnet and not another? It’s because it’s not really hate.
Don’t get me wrong. There are folks walking around with green tinted lenses on because they can’t get past the first round of the playground battle. However, those folks don’t like anyone. They
lay awake at night dreaming of that one day they finally win the
“Battle by the Swings” and walk home with the coveted prize; two paid
admissions to Ray-Ray’s Laundromat and Dancehall. Bottom line is if you can’t even get into Ray Ray’s, you are not going to make it to mad spins on Radio One. So they bitch and moan about everybody and their cousin being lame because they know deep down they are the true lyrical gimp.
of us just don’t like certain music and damn it, we are entitled to
that. With Hip-Hop being allover th eplace, and growing,
there is something for everyone. I don’t think there is anyone who likes everything they hear. It’s impossible. So
that leads me to wonder about these self-appointed hate fighters; the
league sworn to uphold the laws of Hip-Hop disdain. You want a cape?
Seriously. Is Emcee [Insert Name Here] your cousin? Are you on his payroll? Do you get butterflies in your stomach when that dude walks by? What’s really good, Partna?
The audacity of some folk to actually suggest what is in your heart is unreal. Their
ego must short-circuit any worthwhile thought process they might be
capable of because they can’t believe that they aren’t the barometer of
musical taste. Bottom line is sound is in the ear of the behearer. So cut us mere musical mortals some slack and accept the fact that everybody ain’t feeling your dude. He probably sucks ass anyway.
please stop asking me if Emcee [Insert Name Here]
kicked my dog, left me at the alter or stole my lunch money in third
grade. It’s a stupid question that I would suggest anyone who stands staunchly with their opinion ignores. Besides,
if you knew me, you would know that I don’t own a dog. I’m already
married and no one stole anything from me in third grade. If
they tried, I would have had that Fat Nikki smack em up, because we was cool like that.