NEGRO PLEASE: Lil’ Wayne Resurrects Hip-Hop?!
[Editor’s Note: “Blogger’s Note” has been taken over by Ron Mexico until further notice.]
“Mad rappers, look on the bright side./ I sold 1.5 [million]. Hip-hop is alive!” – Lil’ Wayne, “A Milli” (fan-appreciation free-mix)
Hip-hop sales ain’t alive because Lil’ Wayne sold a million copies in a week. As impressive a feat as that may be, for the amount of hopping around and eating after midnight Wayne’s gremlin ass has done these past few months he could have been on the throes of a quadruple uranium record just a few years ago.
For those who get paid by the copy, that’s a reality tougher to deal with than Nigerian hair.
You want braid, miss?
I’ll do you one better. Damn near everyone that’s going to buy Tha Carter III has bought it already. I know that’s a pretty bold prediction given recent sales trends in hip-hop, but I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume Lil’ Weeziana’s 70-Minute Lean Party hasn’t gone triple [plat] by this time next week.
Dr. Carter also makes a point to implore that numbers don’t lie. Man, numbers are the lyingest motherfuckers I’ve ever come across. They tell you all kinds of shit that ain’t really true. They tell you black people commit all the crime in this country. The tell you Soulja Boy has contributed more to our culture than Nas has. They tell you Lawanda wants to date you when she really put Pizza Hut’s number on that napkin.
Numbers are damn sure lying when hundreds of jewel cases spill onto the concrete whenever any of Dwayne’s label people open their car doors.
Do you know how many guest spots Wayne has had to drop to get this hot? Weezy F. has shared The Magic Tussin with everybody from T-Pain to Tim McGraw this year. I heard a Wayne verse on an Afrobeat album. You couldn’t escape Weezy Mania if you tried. “Young Money” is out there getting his Massa’s cotton crop together proper-like.
Oh, yeah. We’re going there.
Listen to this fucking drop. Lil’ Wayne absolutely deep throats the industry and the current plantation structure. That’s a happy little industry pawn right thurr. Ironically, he’s completely fascinated with the man that has quickly become “the other ‘Mr. Carter.’” If Weezy wanna do like Jigga so badly then he should step out from under the major label umbrella[… ella… ella—eh] and try to broker his own deals, using his starpower to his own advantage for once.
That’d be some Young Money game for these fans he’s supposedly paying homage to.
I’m dead-ass serious when I say that I don’t never wanna hear another nigga sing a blatant record label hymn like this ever again. Was there some suit in the room with a gun to his dreads or something, or did something like scales fall from Lil’ Wayne’s eyes within the past couple months?
“Bitin’-ass DJs trynna take my crackers.
Oooh, Lawd. I thank Massa fo’ these crackers./
As a matter of fact I thank these crackers for my Massa./
…and I let my Massa lick the rapper./”
I love Wayne’s newfound fascination with calling all DJs “bootleggers” and completely discrediting their importance on record. Earth to Martian: These “bootleggers” keep your shit hot. The mixtape bandits keep you and your 700,000 yearly guest appearances accessible, opening the door for you to sell however many crimson frisbees you end up pushing.
So, should we give Scooby a biscuit? Hell-the-fuck no! The most overexposed rapper of our time just did what he was supposed to do. He sold some damn records. Please excuse me for a moment as I check the mail again for my O.J. prize.
Negro, please. Weezy Wee didn’t resurrect or otherwise salvage a hmmmmmmotherfuckin thing with Tha Carter III.
A far truer assessment of hip-hop’s livelihood would be to gauge Nas’ sales next month. Let’s see if the shroud of salvation has extended itself.
Questions? Comments? Requests? Ever see a blog do a milli… a milli… a mi–? firstname.lastname@example.org
P.S.: As much as I love Wayne, I DO NOT want to hear what becomes of his forthcoming weekend-long lean binge with a plastic dick in his mouth. This “Lil’ Wayne & T-Pain Vocoder Hour” I’m hearing about is less than comforting.