The Young Buck Stops Here

So what’s the formula for success these days for young rappers trying to make a name for themselves? Is it being able to lyrically finesse and good looks or being politcally correct with good hooks? Nope. Maybe it’s having heavy bass lines laced with lines about leaving the crack game. That’s it – nowadays it seems to be a given that having a criminal record validates an artist.

Now I’m not knockin’ those who are trying to beat the odds and the streets by scribing words to beats as their outlet and last hope. I’m knockin’ these unoriginal, talent-lacking artists who see this formula of success and mimic it as a gimmick as opposed to making a name for themselves on their own merit.

I mean honestly – what does that say about us if our artists would risk it all (life, liberty and all the lies that make this country so great) by stabbing someone at a televised event for sucker-punching their mentor? I made up this fictitious scenario as an example because it’s so asinine and random that it could never possibly happen in real… oh wait, it did happen. So the real question then becomes this: where does the music and us as a people end up in this vicious cycle?

“By Any Means Necessary”

a.k.a. “The Diary of a Mad Rapper”

Note to self – my goal is wealth.

I don’t care if it’s stolen in stealth – I will hold the belt! My flow shouldn’t go unfelt – I should be wearin’ the crown! Dear dairy, I want folks to fear me entirely. I want them to hear my dire deeds… I’m here and dyin’ to breath – give me space in Hip-Hop or I’m tearin’ it down!!! I’ve got a strong bill like Clinton’s presidential payroll. Yet and still, I get my ego parked like some decrepit little Winnebago – So since I’ve got talent out the a-hole with no one willing to say so – I’ll make controversial songs to blow the door open. By any means necessary, I want all eyes on me. It’s up to the public whether it’s by my skills or being ornery… Folks are going to see – my dauntless verses will haunt every person ‘til I get noticed! You don’t have to take my arm and twist it To get me to spit bars that are misogynistic! D*ck and tittie skits are skittish – no one takes them seriously. So what if my lines demoralize women?!! – It’s not like I’m the guy who whores or despises women… My rhymes just glorify the image – I’m just raping lyrically. What’s wrong with me saying ‘When it comes to el BJ, I’m trying to rise to the top like LBJ – President Johnson – head of state in the oral office!’ It sounds like bad porn, doesn’t it?!! – But despite the topic, there’s mad form under it… Some call it poor judgment – but I choose skills over morals often. When it comes to material things, I’m keepin’ it real – I’m out for the *bling* I’m comin’ out for the rings – forget Ming, I’m talkin’ Bull’s dynasty! Vivid storytelling based in cultural enlightenment? I’d rather get the glory of selling base as a cult hero and heighten it… It’s not like this persona’s my true likeness – it’s just a foolish hype machine. When it comes to negative images – That’s what I’m developin’ in an instant, kid! If I have to, I’ll sell my relatives’ businesses – nothing’s sacred or off limits. I’ve pawned my soul and recollected it on several occasions. It’s even been repossessed by federal agents… Every time I bail out, it helps me sell out with incredible flagrance – that's why I break laws and scoff at their visits. When it comes to being a role model, you can’t hold me responsible. How I walk doesn’t dictate the road your seed follows. That’s unconscionable – I’m in the spotlight, I can’t see who’s in the audience.

I’m living my dream – I ain’t got time to be a parent for y’all!

Besides, having a clear conscience is an obnoxious character flaw… I dream in red, white and blue, I’m American y’all – born to actualize gaudiness by capitalizing off tawdriness.