I ain’t tryna diss yours
I already got mine, youngblood—get yours
Now, I’m thinkin’ you’re playin’
When you want the drama
‘Cause if you ever violate, I bring it to your ass
I put that on my momma
I’m all about the mighty
Fuck workin’ for whitey
I’m tryna live my life love before they indict me
You see, I got these Feds breathin’ down my neck
You think I got time to fuck around and write some rhymes to diss you?
These is real facts you’re listenin’ to
You probably won’t realize until your family’s missin’ you
I used to be on that same bullshit
“My rhymes could do that,” “My rhymes could do this”
Motherfucker take notice
It’s Jigga forever
Like cops’ guns, I stay loaded
About my papers
I run with international players
Fuck if you hate us
No conversation, just a bunch of “Catch you later”s
Roc-A-Fella. Nine-sx and forever.
I swear to Barney I was gonna write about the former Best Rapper Alive today(a), even before my colleague, the illustrious Noz decided to start set-tripping, a la Crawford(b). I would get into a point-by-point rebuttal, but why? I can simply rest with the knowledge that Noz is wrong and I am right.
Vol. 3 > Reasonable Doubt?
Anyhoo, if it hasn’t been made abundantly clear to you children, I will come clean like I drink a lot of water: In a former life, not too long ago, I was the biggest Jay-Z Stan. Ever.
Now, I’ve never paid an obscene amount of money to see him perform live, nor have I ever caught carpal thumb from redialing a radio station or TicketMaster to see his “last performance ever” or whatever stupidity. Hell, I’ve never even paid for one of his records. But, I have them all. Even that import-only joint. Even Blueprint 2.1. Even that Library of a Legend(c) available at a smoking section near you(d).
Rap City & Hot 97 freestyles? Got ‘em. R&B cameos? Ditto. The Bugs Bunny joint from Space Jam? Yessir. And did I not convert the above promo-only cassette goodie to MP3(e) just because? Yes. I did.
(I even wifed-up something a dozen years my junior for a minute, but that’s really none of your business, now is it?)
Shiite, I probably know his rhymes better than he does(f).
My totally healthy and heterosexual love affair with Jay began before Reasonable Doubt. I—in a totally healthy and heterosexual manner—loved him on Original Flavor’s “Can I Get Open,” the Big Daddy Kane posse cut, etc. But he really caught me on “I Can’t Get With That” and “In My Lifetime.”
Even Gotti goes adios? The money machine? Catching a breath? Get the cuff outta here.
My feet never touch the concrete? I ain’t pressed to make a CD, I took it slow—80% of these niggas with deals can’t see me with the dough? Never twist a cap off malt liquor, only popping, dropping Cristal down my throat? Rae and Ghost, take a swigger and fall back.
And the remix? When Puff was in that tub spilling Mo’, he was at his video with Cris’ on a speedboat. Go through your research.
But the adoration ended with his Best of Both Worlds revisit. In my mind, he was back to Shawn Carter, the hustler. Jay-Z was dead. I couldn’t cosign that cow dung. Not when I saw the car wreck coming(g).
I’ve ignored most of his post-”retirement” output, just for my own sanity. Save for everytime he hooks up with Jeezy (thrice now), it’s all been anti-climactic. But this latest Jayoncé single?
Bad enough that he came with a lazy delivery on the Rick Ross remix. But this?
You know something’s wrong when Jay is jacking flows from 50. And I can’t even wrap my mind around this Radio City show when I’m still reeling from the blasphemy and lies that is his HP commercial(h).
Oh yes, children. The thrill is gone. Luckily, I still have
Vol. 3 Reasonable Doubt.
I blame Beyoncé. Naturally. It’s always the woman’s fault. Always.
All this, of course, quite logically begs the question: Why on Barney’s green Earth would anyone who can afford a Mac not buy one?
(a) I did say I could go left, no?
(b) I fully expect Sickamore to chime in at any moment.
(c) Okay. I’m missing Disc 8. But, still.
(e) You gotta love the hiss and short circuit on the right channel.
(f) Probably not as well as Bleek, but , cuff it. I’m not in the will.
(g) They shootin’!
(h) As if.