RELIGION IS DEAD

Thank Jebus it's Friday. Speaking of The Lawd, there's a movie coming out that I'm going to try to see sometime this weekend called RELIGULOUS. It's Bill Maher's journalistic satire of religion, and by most reviewer's accounts, it promises to be funny to OBJECTIVISTS like myself while pissing off most Evangelical neo-conservative lunatics and hopefully every other manipulating servant of Satan that pretends to speak the language of spirituality. You know the type...






I don't know your views on Christianity, Islam or Judaism, but you're more than welcome to ask axe God to strike me down for saying that I am highly interested in what this documentary-styled film contains, or you can just leave a comment and be less dramatic. But if you wish to know, I am neither an atheist nor an agnostic, but I have serious questions about the factual or plain-old believable issues that are preached in the name of The Lawd, especially down here under the bible belt, where assholes and dickheads alike stink up the region with their quiet quest for money, power and fame--all in the name of Jesus Christ, Muhammad or MATISYAHU. God knows he has some strange followers that probably believe that he wrote the Old Testament or some next shit like that. Me? I was raised as a Baptist, and I had to go to chuuch all the got-damn time. I would hear all types of buffoonery. A quick list of some of the nonsense includes:

1. If you kill yourself, you're going to Hell.
2. If you're gay, you're going to Hell.
3. If you say "God Damn" too many times, you're going to Hell.

Now, I can't vouch for two of those, because I'm neither gay or dead from suicide. But I lost my fear of speaking my mind years ago, and sometimes you just can't substitute another phrase for the all-powerful "Gyeaad--DAAAYYUM!!" And besides, don't act like a lot of the men that attend mostly black churches aren't apple bottom biters on the low, if you follow. Maybe on the high... But please believe: God has been very good to me, so don't assume that I'm not a believer. I just don't let another human being get between our relationship, so I really have little to no use for modern evangelists, preachers and such.



The few spiritual leaders that I do respect have always agreed that there is no such thing as an unforgivable sin as long as you've accepted God into your life. The others have always made up things that they claim can be found in The Good Book. By the way, it is a good book, but did you know that the Bible was in fact not written by God? A man actually took the trees that God created on "his" earth, in "his" universe, and cut them into shreds so that he could print money, collect 10% of others' income and give it all back to God. God made man and man made money selling God's magnum opus.



OUCH-- I just got struck by a bolt of lightning! But no, really, what is the point of religion? I see it as a way to control people and to turn the individual hero into a compressed weakling who cannot exist on his or her own terms. Maybe that sounds harsh, but riddle me this: when was the last time you sinned? Probably today. And the wages of sin is... you already know. Death. But guess what? You're gonna die anyway, so stop taking things so God-damned literal and learn to laugh at life while you have it. Sheesh!

I expect to laugh incredibly loud at Religulous, but I do not expect anyone to volunteer to see it with me. And while I believe it will do decent numbers at the box office, I can also clearly see the future, when the zealots start protesting and calling for HBO to cancel his show like Comedy Central did back when he started FREESTYLING about September 11. If there's anything guaranteed in America, it is religious persecution, which is pretty sad when you remember that this country was supposedly founded as an antidote to intolerance.



You mad? Who cares. Take it up with the man, woman or entity upstairs. But please, save your accusations of blasphemy for someone that's stupid. I have always believed that the spirit of God lives in each of us, therefore we can communicate directly with the great spirit without the need of an intermediary or middleman. As long as we have pastors with perms, private jets and penthouse apartments that preach prosperity, I'll happily refrain from spending my sacred Sunday afternoon doing anything as ridiculous as attending a "house of God" that man built and paid for. Isn't God already rich? Doesn't "he" own the earth, as well as the universe? How much sense does it then make to cut down "his" trees, turn them into currency and give 10% of the paper product back to "him"?

God don't like ugly. And yes, I know I might go to Hell for this, but like The Last Poets said, "If there's Hell below, we're all gonna go!"

TUPAC IS DEAD; THUG LIFE IS NOT

The Don Makaveli, a.k.a. Tupac Amaru Shakur, passed away twelve years and four days ago at 25 years of age, from still-unclaimed bullets in the streets of Las Vegas. We can't bring him back, yet we've continued to study his every move in life and death (and in the minds of some, his resurrection).

He said himself, in an interview with Vibe Magazine, "Thug Life to me is dead. If it's real, let somebody else represent it, because I'm tired of it. I represented it too much."





The man was a cult of personality, but he died way too early and for a cause that has still not quite been identified or taken up in a positive way--let's be honest. But the truth is even more tragic; it's 2008, and "Thug Life" lives on without it's founding father. Guns are still used for us, by us. Drugs are sold in similar fashion. Prison sentences await those who take either path, and boys remain boys as girls become women. Fathers are invisible, futures are bleak. Civil rights are revoked, voter registration fails. And tomorrow's soldiers remain stuck in the ageless trap of being righteous thugs.

Don't blame Tupac; blame our insistence on reincarnating the worst side of mankind through his name and image, over and over again. And the best way to avoid manufacturing more thugs for nationwide distribution, fueling the continuing state of mental, spiritual and financial poverty in the black community is to let the man rest in peace.

THE GAME - L.A.X.: The Autopsy

I'm into true west coast gangster rap, because nothing else comes as close to the ugly realities of true life. And though some of you will doubtless disagree, The Game is, in my op, the best representation of Californian g-rap since the days of DJ Quik, N.W.A, Above The Law, M.C. Eiht and Westside Connection.

Tell the truth; Game practically bodied the entire G-Unit movement by himself just out of sheer will. His style has always been sort of the Pacific Coast yin to Curtis Jackson's Southside, Queens yang. Both have always seemed ready to be as disrespectful as necessary to lyrically embarrass their enemies, but when the two turned against each other, Game proved to be the better rapper, if not the smarter businessman.

L.A.X. continues the process of describing the City of Lost Angels to all outsiders. Like The Documentary and Doctor's Advocate, L.A.X. is heavy on the Dre-inspired soundscape, yet once again Dr. Dre makes no appearance behind the boards on production. In his place, Scott Storch (who needs the money), Cool & Dre, Irv Gotti, Nottz, J.R. Rotem, DJ Toomp, Hi-Tek and Kanye West all contribute some very high-def beats for Game's usual "I'm a Blood" steelo.





From the moment you hear DMX praying on the "Intro," you get a certain feeling that maybe God really does love the gangsters and vice-versa. X goes in pretty heavy with the prayer, giving the listener the idea that if he ever put down the microphone in the name of rap and picked it back up in the name of Jesus, without picking up the (you name it - pipe, blunt, bottle, needle, car keys, etc, etc...) again, he would probably have a congregation that would go far beyond the spiritual travesty that your boy Mason Betha pulled. Very dramatic and strangely appropriate.

From then on, you get what you expect. Game shows off his bounce-flow on "L.A.X. Files," which has a guy with a weird sense of tuning singing the chorus, but somehow it works out. From then on, the guest appearances start to flow in, with 'The Don Mega' Ice Cube showing up on the hook for "State of Emergency," Raekwon the Chef trading verses on "Bulletproof Diaries" and "My Life" featuring Lil' Wayne, which I can't get out of my head. Say what you will about Young Carter, but he can make your song pop if he really wants to, and the T-Pain device works well with him on certain tracks.

I have several favorite songs on L.A.X., and I've only been listening to it for 12 hours. Right now, my choices are "Ya Heard" featuring Ludacris, "Never Can Say Goodbye," "Cali Sunshine" and "Dope Boys," which knocks major. As a matter of fact, the only song I'm not really digging thus far would be the main single, "Game's Pain," featuring Keyshia Cole. Sure, she's fine, but that doesn't mean I have to be a fan. I think she's a little overrated, personally. Plus, I don't get the part that's supposed to be painful. Why didn't they name the song "Homage?" Whatever, I guess. But that doesn't mean I think it was a bad move to put the song out first. Black women love Keyshia, and so does urban radio. Can't call it stupid at all.

"Never Can Say Goodbye" and "Letter to the King" serve as the albums' two best songs for their creativity and depth, where he raps about the deaths of Tupac, Biggie, Eazy-E and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., respectively. Nas guests on the latter, as well as donating his vocal to the only interlude on the album, "Hard Liquor." "Angel" is another fly one that I played repeatedly on the drive from Atlanta to Birmingham this afternoon. And nobody can deny Chrisette Michelle, so "Let Us Live" wins on G.P. While I'm not crazy about Neo on a Game track ("Gentleman's Affair"), I do like the conflicting message. And let's face it: Game is known for being somewhat schitz.





Overall, by the time you get to the 19th track, DMX's prayerful "Outro," you shouldn't be mad at the Compton MC who has made his own way without significant assistance from Dr. Dre or 50 Cent since his debut album. L.A.X. is solid, and it will keep anyone from saying that Game was a flash in the pan, even if this really is his last LP as he has said. Hopefully, with the quality of this new joint, The Game will put the pistols away, stop with all the suicidal innuendos and realize that the game needs him.

I'M DEAD @ THIS

Angel Pantoja Medina is dead, but don't tell nobody. Especially not his mother and family. They're obviously just not ready for the truth. And I'm not ready for the next trend in funerals and wakes.

This dude was found under a bridge. They still don't know how he died. But for some reason, he had made a prehumous request to be embalmed in a way that would allow him to remain standing for three days during the wake process. His family said he wanted to stand tall and be happy. So they got him posted up in the corner of the house, looking like the hardest man alive dead. Yo...





*Heebie Jeebies just kicked in*


Yo, yo, yo... All I can say is that this might be the illest ever. Definitely a contender for the "WTF-'08" Award. Don't let this catch on in the hood. Please, no thank you. I'm afraid of the future.




Jacque'd from DLISTED.

THE KING IS DEAD

Elvis Presley kicked the proverbial bucket on August 16, 1977, the exact same day that my best friend WHITE JESUS was born. Tell your favorite redneck; spread the good word. And tell him that Hip-Hop killed Elvis's legacy and Michael Jackson boned his daughter. See, I'm not a fan. Although I do respect the dead, that whole nice guy thing dies if said dead person had a racist reputation that was "never substantiated." Yeah, right.

In 1957, despite Presley's demonstrable respect for "black" music and performers, he faced accusations of racism. He was alleged to have said in Boston, Massachusetts: "The only thing Negro people can do for me is to buy my records and shine my shoes." Presley always denied saying, or ever wanting to say, such a racist remark.

SOURCE: WIKIPEDIA

Oh well, who cares now. I can forgive him, I guess. I mean, didn't Hip-Hop forgive Eminem for dropping the N-bomb a few years ago? It's only right; after all, it was more than 50 years ago when Elvis went Kramer. Times were different. You could call a spade a spade back then, I guess...

But just to be a prick, here is one of my favorite clips from Eddie Murphy's Delirious. Ha!





R.I.P., Elvis Aaron Presley. Maybe it was just a lie. Or maybe it was never meant to be made public that you didn't really care for the company of African-Americans. Whatever. I'm still not a fan.





"Elvis was a hero to most/ But he never meant shit to me
To millions, a straight-up racist/The sucker was simple and plain...
Mother-f*ck him and John Wayne!!"

Public Enemy - Fight the Power

THE OZONE AWARDS ARE IS DEAD

Trae tha Truth punched Mike Jones in the face? Southern rappers are beefing? Rick Ross had his goons manhandle DJ Vlad - all down in Houston at the Ozone Awards? Really?!





I absolutely don't care. It's probably a good thing I wasn't there in Houston for this event. I still have some issues with a few people who attended the show, and I'd rather not start an epic fight outside of the venue. Trust me, if I get punched in the face a'la Mike Jones at an awards show, there will be metallic repercussions. Even though I have more than a few friends who were down in Texas attending Julia Beverly's cottage-cheese rendition of a black awards show, I declined to attend. Look at everything I missed...





So I'm passing off the torch on this one. The homie Maurice Garland wrote a recap of the show, and he's obviously not as slanted against the machinery of false cultural representation as I am. That was a joke.

CLICK HERE to read Garland's take on the 2008 Hozone Ozone Awards. In the meantime, here is another take on the truth from Trae. It's funny how snitching on yourself is the new album promotion. Oh well, that's why southern Hip-Hop is where it is today - half in the spotlight, half in the coffin.





And you probably wonder why I spend so much time writing about politics...

LEGALLY-DEAD MCs

Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick, a.k.a. "The Hip-Hop Mayor", is legally dead, but you already knew that. Yes, this idiot cheated on his wife, Carlita, with his chief of staff, Christine Beatty.




Yes, he lied about it. Yes, he was brought up on federal charges of perjury. But now, yes, this dumb-ass took an unauthorized trip to Canada recently (probably for some good weed) and got his ass arrested upon returning to the city he's supposed to be running.

He is now in the hoosegow. The clink. The concrete hotel, if you will.




Check the excuse stupid-ass reason your homeboy gave when he offered an apology to District Court Judge Ronald Giles about his conduct:

"I've been living in an incredible state of pressure and scrutiny."

But Giles sent the mayor to jail anyway, telling him he would have given any defendant the same treatment.

SOURCE: TIME.COM

I'm dead @ this. I mean, you're a young, African-American mayor. You claim to represent my culture. You come from a politically-known family. You're even built like a football player, which is a breakthrough - people are sometimes weary of large black men in powerful positions. But despite all of these good things going for you, you couldn't keep your Piston in your pants long enough to be an example for young black men who might aspire to your job someday.




Please believe that the media is going to love this, especially when a black guy is running for POTUS. Let's just hope they keep dude locked up through the rest of the presidential campaign, so he doesn't have time to pull some of that Marion Barry "race card" or "it was a setup" bullshit.

I can't take it. I'm off to drink some white tea.

THE MOURNING AFTER…

Shout out to COX RADIO, my corporate sponsor, for providing the free room and tickets to the 2008 Essence Music Festival, which went down like a laxative. Made me feel regular again. Maybe you’ll catch the real rundown in a magazine or newspaper or something, if I feel like selling it.

In case you need it, here’s a quick list of what to do and what not at Essence 2009, for anyone who didn’t make the event this year. Just a head’s up: next year’s show, which is being headlined by Beyonce, will certainly be just as crunk. If you can get there, I suggest you make the trip. For the record, there are more women than you can shake a scythe at. Don't take my word for it, just ask axe somebody.

On with the list, and off with your head...


1. IF YOU DRIVE FROM ATLANTA, GET SOMEBODY ELSE TO RIDE WITH YOU

I drove a rental down I-85 and made it to New Orleans in about 7 hours. The drive wasn’t that bad, but it would have been much cooler if I had somebody riding shotgun to offset any suspicious vibes I had that the cops might have been following me, which they weren’t. But it’s not very cool when you see thirty to forty cars pulled over in a row between Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi. Very, very sketch. I’m still shook and I’ve already made it back safe and sound.


2. DON’T STAY AT THE RITZ-CARLTON IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

Sure, it’s at the top of the food chain when it comes to nice hotels. And most of the celebrities had rooms there, so it was cool to be walking outside to Canal Street and seeing people like Lynn Whitfield and Kenya Moore walking past you on their way in. Plus, I got my room for the freeski, so I can't complain too much. Then again...

On the other side of that, there’s the snitch factor. Not that I would dare be dirty in the most esteemed hotel of the upper class, mind you… Let’s just say that I had a funny feeling Sunday night while I was getting "prepared" for the concert, and less than 10 seconds after, the cleaning lady came and knocked. After that, I was pretty much sketched out for the remainder of my trip. Plus, the ladies at the check-in/check-out desk tried to play me with some extra charges, which I deaded immediately by being proactive enough to check my balance before checking out.

An Ill side note:
On my way out of the hotel on Sunday night to the Superdome, right after the cleaning lady interrupted my session evening, I was walking down the hall, on my way to the elevator, and saw a Swisher Sweet box laying in front of a room. Next to it was an iPod Nano and a rope of disco ball-colored beads. Guess what was in the Swisher Sweet box? Can you say, "Dro?" Better yet, can you say, “Free iPod?”

Then again, maybe you should stay at the Ritz, with those type of free goodies. But I’d recommend the W. It’s way more jumping and way less sketch.


3. DON’T BE A HOT BOY

I said that I would consider going to the 9th Ward to investigate the progress after Katrina. That was until I realized that the locals would much rather come to us in the French Quarter than invite us back into their territory. When I say that New Orleans has it’s own culture, I mean it. And those people can spot an outsider pretty damn quickly. Ever heard of a ghetto pass? Get one, or you probably won’t be welcomed into the Mac-Melph-Callio.

Still, I got plenty of local love (nolo), probably because I’m from Alabama, and I know when and how to use local words and phrases like “out chea”, “baby” (pronounced “bey-be”) and “boy, that’s cold.” Get like me.


4. BRING CASH (WHERE IT'S SAFE)

There was so much authentically-fly art being sold by street vendors that I felt like a loser when I realized that I couldn’t buy a single painting on Visa or AMEX. Most of it you’ve probably seen at your local Black Arts Festival, but some of the stuff was simply incredible. And the good shit was not even that expensive - $150 could get you something unique and exclusive, and I'm killing myself for not coming up on this ill Obama painting that was set against a newspaper backdrop. I can't even describe how cool that shit was.

Too bad I spent most of my cheese on hurricanes, pina coladas and gumbo.


5. DON’T PARK YOUR RENTAL ON N. RAMPART AND BOURBON ST.

Bourbon Street was ridiculous. And the atmosphere was electric. But I don’t believe that even the crunkest of street parties gives somebody the right to stand on top of someone else’s (literally, not mine) Jeep, unless of course ninjas were shooting and people were just trying to get out of the line of fire. So maybe those dirty bootprints were just from some lucky fool who had a MJ-inspired vertical and got away from certain death. I applaud that. Now, if I would have caught said local dancing to Lil' Boosie and Webbie on top of a car I was too cheap to have insured? Let's just say it he would have been "down bad."

Speaking of which, Bourbon Street did get shut down on both Friday and Saturday night/morning around 2 a.m., because locals were either engaged in massive street brawls or just good-old murder capital shoot-outs. From what I heard, some cats did unfortunately get bodied. Sorry, I was throwed off the hurricanes and too happy to get shot for the home audience. Tell CNN to save my eulogy and celebrity tribute for later.

My 2008 Essence Festival motto: "I'm too cool to die for a rental car."


6. GO TO THE CONCERT

The good people from Cox Radio, with whom I was chilling, were not trying to go to the actual event. They spent most of their time either in the hotel or on Bourbon St. getting throwed and trying to be like your faithful and humble narrator. Made no sense, especially when Chris Rock, Mary J. Blige, LL Cool J, Jill Scott and even Keyshia Cole (no, really) tore it down at the Superdome. And I was there to see it.


Proof, in the form of photo images and video, is forthcoming, once I get some sleep. For now, I need to unwind, relax and detox. Reserve your room at Hotel Underwriter (The W) today, or miss tomorrow. In the meantime, holla at a playa when you see me in the streets, trick. And don’t drop your iPod or Swisher Sweet box on my hotel floor unless you won’t miss it.


“I feel like lying / down in a cigar; roll me up and smoke me, ‘cause I feel like dying…”
- Lil’ Wayne; "I Feel Like Dying"

THE BUCKET LIST

The Bucket List is a list of things that need to hurry up and die, because they're killing the human race in one way or another.

For this installment, we explore ENERGY DRINKS and the geek monsters that drink them. If you haven't noticed, energy drinks are usually guilty of some of the worst and most blatantly ridiculous product names and marketing schemes in business. If you don't know what I'm talking about, take a look at the list:

--------------------------------


SUM POOSIE



(What every man wants)
--------------------------------


GURU



(Is Gang Starr getting check$ from this?)
--------------------------------


GO GIRL



(Sugar-Free?!)
--------------------------------


PIMP JUICE



(Did Nelly skeet in this? Nolo.)
---------------------------------


COCAINE



(The Devil is Alive... How sad is this??)
---------------------------------

Do what you will with your own fucking health. I'm not a doctor, and I'm not trying to tell you muh-fuckas what to do with your body. But just don't be a victim of your own need for extra energy and such. Because that would make you a geek monster. And I love you too much to let you go out like a sucka.

If I gotta dead you, know it's only 'cause I love you...
Talib Kweli - "Know That"

LINKS OF DEATH

I'm in a good mood today. In honor of the total lunar eclipse tonight, here are some links for you that I found while digging through the internet graveyard, combing for lost souls and free music.


To get information about how the moon will be red tonight:
CLICK RIGHT CHEA
(shout to NPR)

To see how someone spent a day of their own life to clown Angel Lola Luv on Myspace:
CLICK RIGHT CHEA
(shout to Fresh @ Crunk & Disorderly & Necole Bitchie)

To get all the free Cam'ron & Dipset music that matters in your life:
CLICK RIGHT CHEA
(shout to the SOHH forums)

To see another reason why hell is filled with false prophets profit$ and gay black reverends:
GO'N AND CLICK RIGHT CHEA
(shout to Marv & crew @ Bossip & Livesteez)

To learn why Gov. Arnold Schwarzennegger is a black plowman and white people were "niggers" first:
CLICK RIGHT CHEA
(shout to Billy Sunday @ Dallas Penn & XXL.com)

To understand why even Jimmy Iovine thinks that the music business is dead:
CLICK RIGHT CHEA
(shout to Eskay @ Nahright)


I'm heading out of town for a day. I'll be back Friday. Please don't cry.

Rappers Trying to Cheat the Reaper... Vol. II: IT'S MURDA!!!

If you actually know who UNCLE MURDA is, because most people probably don't, you qualify to receive a coupon for a FREE McDEATH BURGER at your local hood McDonalds, just for being able to prove that you were aware of the backstory before this post.

Ba-da-bap-ba-baa!!

Just leave a comment with your government name, social security number, telephone, email and physical address. I promise not to give this info to my telemarketing staff or Blackwater USA.

*DISCLAIMER* This offer may not be applicable at all any McDonalds in the world.




Moving on, there exists (maybe temporarily) a rapper named Uncle Murda, who represents East New York. He's gully, ganster, hard, brolic, thuggy--a vertitable tough guy. And he's signed to Roc-A-Fella Records, the label owned by Damon Dash, Kareem Burke and Shawn Carter, a.k.a. Jay-Z. I guess that the Jiggaman needed a roughneck figure to solidify his label roster, especially since he's got Kanye West repping for the emos.





What THE UNDERWRITER doesn't like about Uncle Murder's thug life coonery is that, for some reason, my man seems to take being shot in the head as a misfired joke. Peep the quote from ALLHIPHOP's exclusive interview with U.M.:


"If anybody, I think it may have been the NYPD. But who it ever was that did it, they missed because I didn’t even know I was hit. One of my crew told me that my face was bleeding and took me to the hospital. They said I still have a bullet in my head and if I am sexually active it will fall out [laughs]."


It was also reported all over the web that Uncle Murda is NURSING HIS PAIN WITH HENNESSY AND NEWPORTS. Far be it from my authority to say that cognac and nicotene can't be sufficient in terms of numbing the nerves. But this is, after all, a head wound. A doctor might have a better way, but who am I to say that a thug can't self-medicate?

But at least I now know that this is how a "real" gangster rapper responds to a "Bullet-Bullet" to the dome. Good. I love it when thugs laugh at being shot, thinking that death is a game that they can win. It only makes it funnier when I'm forced to report his obituary two weeks before his album drops, two days after never.

Just for extra emph, here's a poignant, poetic and creative rap song, in video form, by the artist known as Uncle Murda. Pay attention; it may be a subliminal cry for help. Let's pray that he avoids this blog in the future.





"In the Bible I read, 'Death is of the tongue / and if you talk about death enough, death is gon' come.'"
50 Cent - "Shot Down" feat. DMX

I CAN'T FEEL MY FACE

Weezy F. Baby Carter, the self-proclaimed "best rapper alive", just might also be the most geeked up. At least his lips are sealed, as this image suggests. Or maybe it's just the teeth clenching that has his mouth on clack-clack...




The Alphabet Boyz of Phoenix, Ariz., recently had the opportunity to join in a Cash Money/Young Money Records cypher, and found more than enough for a bus full of buffoons. Courtesy of ALLHIPHOP, here's the story of Weezy's stash game:


"The K-9 Unit found multiple types of drugs, as well as currency, and firearms," DEA spokeswoman Ramona Sanchez told AllHipHop.com. "One of the firearms, a .44 caliber pistol was registered to Mr. Carter. He did have a concealed weapon permit from Florida, but we are investigating whether it violates any Arizona laws."

Sanchez added that the K-9 Unit recovered 105 grams of marijuana (3.7 ounces), almost 29 grams of cocaine (1.02 ounces), 41 grams of Ecstasy (1.05 ounces) and $22,000 dollars in cash.

"The two other individuals were charged with possession of marijuana," Sanchez said. "Mr. Carter was charged with possession of the cocaine and ecstasy, and possession of miscellaneous paraphernalia."


The mind wonders if Weezy had visited DMX's house while riding through the Southwest. If not to cop, at least to share. Lord knows that The Dog has been acting a little funny lately...




It's bad enough that everybody's assumption ended up being gospel--Ike Turner died because he was on what Martin Lawrence once called "that OOH-WEEE". And rumors abound that we will all find out that Pimp-C was doing something he shouldn't have been when he was found deceased in a hotel suite. We'll find out soon enough...

Lil' Wayne used to call out his former Hot Boy brother B.G. for being a washed up drug addict, back when the group first severed their ties. And any fan of southern rap music knows the history of B-Gizzle. Now that Blender Magazine has predicted that HE'LL DIE AT AGE 44, one must consider whether or not Wayne has been lured into the same path as his former rhyme partner or is actually a product of his environment that deserves some legal leniency.

Look at it this way. This is a guy whose home city was washed away. He probably knew dozens of the dead from Hurricane Katrina. Right now, he may be running off of a survival instinct that says, "Eff the world, Wizzle. You've gotta just keep smoking that kush, drinking that lean, popping those Es and sniffing that yay. Keep yourself in a comfortable state of mind, and don't look back, or you'll turn to dust..."




His homie Juelz Santana may not be the best influence right now, considering the following picture from XXL's "A History of Cocaine Rap" story from December 2006...




Who cares. If these dudes can afford gaudy jewelry and enough powder to cover a continent of baby asses, they can surely afford Tom Mesereau or another high-powered lawyer. Or they can just keep numbing themselves to reality and rapping about cars that they can't really afford, jewelry that makes them robbery/extortion targets and habits that keep the Feds taking pictures.

Come on rappers; smile for the camera!! Cocaine is a helluva drug!!

Real Zaggins Don't Die - N.W.A. Resurrected

SOMEBODY put my favorite gangsta rap album of all time on the internets. If you want it, go get it.




CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD.


Don't ask; don't tell...
(NOLO)

No.. NO... NOOOOO!!!!

Damn!! See what happens when you send an intern to do the boss's job?

One of those mindless flunkies from the dead sea of Hip-Hop internet forums recently asked me if he could volunteer his services on the weekend, which drew a firm "NOLO" and a fast "Fuck Off" from yours truly. But then this loser kept begging, saying that he deserved a chance. He needed a mentor, and since I pretty much rule everything in reach of my scythe, I guess he thought I would help. And he consistently sent dead flowers to my ladyfriends with my name on the giftcard, which actually turned out to be a great method of brown-nosing that I'd never before imagined. Now I have a gang of hot girls coming through the crib on the late night to crank that Jada Fire and cook breakfast for your boy in the morning, believing that I'm now ready for marriage.





So while I was getting some underlovin this morning from my new chick...




This idiotic intern of mine took my Scythe List and claimed the life of the wrong man. The name on the docket clearly reads "Mike Terner", but this illiterate scumbag accidentally scythed one of Hip-Hop's most influential persons. You guessed it...




What a tool. Anyway, let's celebrate Ike Turner's life today. Whatever your opinion of the man, the myth and the legend, he's been name-dropped in countless rap songs.


Check the catalog:




"My life's like kinda what my wife's like
Fucked up, after I beat her fuckin' ass every night, Ike!"
EMINEM - "Who Knew", The Marshall Mathers LP


"Put your fingers up if you love hash and cash
I been that way since Ike Turner was kickin Tina ass"
REDMAN - "On Fire"; Muddy Waters

"I wanna holla at that boy Ike Turner
You gotta know it's 'bout the paper and you learn her
About gettin on the corner for your daddy
What love got to do with it, I'm in the Caddy"
PIMP-C - "I'm a Hustler"; The Sweet James Jones Stories

"For now, we gonna plot and premeditate this murder
I heard a nigga say that you can't fuck with Ike Turner
So I'm gonna be that nigga who put these hoes out
Blacked out, locced out
Ready to go all out
And rip a heffa's grill out"
DRE DOG - "Ike Turner"; I Hate You With a Passion

"But if I tell her to turn her head, and I get a light turn up
I'm subject to might turn up, and flip into Ike Turner"
YUNG RO - "Head Turner"; Undagrind

"Make a slick kid mackadocious
Stay away from young girls, I crack a ol' bitch
Wifebeater, like Ike Turner
Carry five heaters and like 9 burners"
PACEWON - "Won"; Telepathy


Oh well, another Hip-Hop pioneer gone with the wind. I thought you knew it was gonna be a cold winter. Rest in peace, Ike. Hope that for your sake God is a man, or your ass is eternally skewered.




UPDATE:

MY HOMIE BUCKLIFE put me up on a couple other famous Ike drops from B.I.G. that I didn't remember when posting. New York, forgive me. Or go eff yourself. Your choice.

"Sade...ooooh I know that pussy tight
smacked Tina Turner, gave her flashbacks of Ike"
The Notorious B.I.G. - "Dreams"; Unreleased (sike)

"That's why I pack a nina, fuck a misdeameanor
Beatin motherfuckers like Ike beat Tina
(What's Love, Got to Do)
when I'm rippin all through your whole crew..."
The Notorious B.I.G. - "Machine Gun Funk"; Ready to Die




Biggie Smalls is the illest... (RIP)

SHAWTY LO - The New Eazy-E of ATL is Alive and Well

You know what? This dude just might have a shot at the King of ATL title, that is if he's not the next victim of the ATL ABC boys (RE: T.I.P. VS the ATF B4 the BET awards).

Not only did he quietly sponsor the rise of D4L, Lo actually had a major regional hit last year with the weirdly likeable "I'M DA MAN."
If you aren't familiar, it's the song that Young Jeezy reinterpreted stole when he made "White Girl". Tell me you don't hear the influence after you listen to both songs below...

SHAWTY LO - "I'm Da Man"



U.S.D.A. - "White Girl"




Both Shawty Lo and Eazy-E are/were short as hell in stature. Both of them have/had ill voices, and both talk/spoke about drug dealing, shooting niggas, riding clean and dirty and ephing hose. Eazy obviously had clout, because he always came across as the leader of N.W.A., even though he barely stood 5 feet tall. Something about him, whether it was the constantly present guns or the all black attire, spoke volumes about his ability to assume the title of Amerikkka's Most Niggerish. And because N.W.A. was down with him, they were able to use his "street cred" to make a case for their own relevance in the music business. See: Shawty Lo and D4l (last year)

I'm not saying that D4L can compare in any way to N.W.A. No Way, Asshole.






I'm saying that it sometimes takes a gangster dwarf to hold down the entire camp of "goons". That Napoleon Complex shit is real, oh my brothers and sisters. Just ask me why I keep the scythe ready for these roaches. I only stand about 5'6", so I can relate to the bullshit that Eazy, Shawty and many other midgets went through trying to make a living and bring home the breakfast. Shit ain't easy.

RIP - E. The game ain't been the same. It's now reduced to us letting imitation yous become the new big thang, even though it could never be duplicated.


THE UNDERWRITER'S FAVORITE GANGSTER RAP SONG OF ALL TIME: