NEGRO PLEASE: Kanye West Places Soulja Boy on “[All Old-School Legends] Level”
[Editor’s Note: “Blogger’s Note” has been taken over by Ron Mexico until further notice.]
“You know how many dances hip-hop done had? It’s so many rappers that think they such lyricists. ‘I’m so lyrical. I’m so lyrical. I’m so lyrical.’ They can’t make a chorus to save they life. All your favorite raps from back in the days had dope-ass choruses. So if I make Soulja Boy any different than that, how does Soulja Boy kill hip-hop? He had one of the biggest songs of the summer. If anything, he’s helping to keep it alive.” –Kanye West, Glow In The Dark Tour @ Madison Square Garden
Haven’t we seen this movie before? Are these two junglebunnies related or something?
Note: Someone near the camera[phone] was about to catch the Glow In The Dark Ghost.
Speaking of “catching the ghost,” I predict we’ll see Rev. Kanye West once this nigga’s a little older. He’s got the massive ego, savior complex and love for the sound of his own voice. Dude would make a great shady pastor
Before 20,000 already-extorted fans, Ye begins his catechism by slurping Nas, as per usual. Then, as masterfully as he can flip a Supremes sample, Mr. West makes the transition to elevating his
second cousin pet monkey, Soulja Boy.
Ugh. That’s just as greasy as the church-house my grandma-nana held me captive in on [the] Sundays [she actually felt like going after her breakfast of fried fish, eggs, grits and fatback].
I haven’t been to a Kanye show since he was small time. Is this what dude has come to? Negro, please. I don’t wanna drop $100 beans to see his I Have A [Care Bear on Acid] Dream speech.
It’d be remiss of me to argue with Kanye West over semantics. I might as well try teaching Sudoku to Soulja Boy without a Sidekick. (That’s alliteration, holmes.) I will gladly get at dude over philosophy though. While Soulja Boy’s ultimate affect on the hippety-hop may be up for debate, Ye shouldn’t be such a fucking porch monkey. Saying that the kid who implores that we all muss our mamas’ bedspreads can’t kill hip-hop because he had a hit is more of that ass-ignorance we’ve come to expect from The [Apparent] College Dropout once the
cheap samples beats stop.
I mean– my negro… please!
Coonery always cakes off. This scientific truth takes nothing away from its destructive effect. Since some of us chose to forgo the whole college thing, I’ll provide an example. Flavor of Love is a fuckin hit and it’s kills a little piece of my credit rating every time it airs. I don’t have to do anything but be black in its wake.
Questions? Comments? Requests? Think your jizz on a bedsheet can save hip-hop too? firstname.lastname@example.org
P.S.: Niggas don’t get mad at you when your show doesn’t start an entire VH1 Flavor of Love marathon late.
P.P.S.: I don’t want dope raps with poor choruses, but I also don’t want songs that are chorus sans substance.