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NEGRO PLEASE: Lloyd Banks Considers Himself “Top 5″

[Editor’s Note: “Blogger’s Note” has been taken over by Ron Mexico until further notice.]

“Oh, yeah… I AM Top 5… Like it or not… Ha!”Lloyd Banks, “Call It How I See It”

Is that how you see it, Banks?

Maybe dude’s view is a little obscured behind the sliding wooden gate of the man-sized playpen at 50 Cent’s house.

After listening to Banks finally taking the advice of G-Unit fans, stans and “haters” (by delivering “Call It How I See It” with a little emotion and vocal inflection for once), I guess dude thinks he’s emerged from the depths of the B-list [sc]rap heap to “Top 5” in one verse.

No–Dude can’t possibly be mean he’s a Top 5 MC, can he? After Banks and his three daddies (50, Grandpa Shady and The Good Detox Doctor) there’s only room left for Tony Yayo in the uppermost echelon.

Negro, please. This can’t possibly be what he meant.

In all fairness to one of rap’s greatest non-dancing background dancers, let’s speculate.

Top 5 Things Lloyd Banks Could Be Top 5 At:

Weed Carrier – Unlike Cam’ron, T.I., Lil’ Wayne, Snoop Dogg and other popular rapsters whose ancillary staff have failed them, 50 Cent has yet to be caught riding dirty by Rick Ross the Hip-Hop Polices. This could very well mean that Banks is doing a damn fine job of always serving as/finding the appropriate shady go-between in every town G-Unit passes through.

Without a single lapse in judgment recorded to date, Lloyd Banks may have earned himself Top 5 weed carrier status.

Camel Face – While no one’s knocking Jay-Z from the top spot, there’s plenty of room for Banks on the Camel Face list. He can parallel park himself nicely in the #2 hole between Great Hova and his Wild’n Out doppelganger, Affion Crockett.

Low Talker/Mumbler – If Lloyd Banks falls in the woods, does he really make sound?

As previously alluded to, the #1 complaint of the Lloyd Banks listener has always been a lack of emotion, clarity and vocal inflection. Some guys can pull off the laid back flow, but the key is to still somehow convey to your audience that you still have a pulse. Despite some of the most clever punches a rap fan could ever hope to hear, Banks sometimes sounds like he’s rapping from his deathbed.

Half of his Beg For Mercy and Rotten Apple verses sounded like he delivered them after a violent round of radiation therapy and camel… I mean, chemo. Sorry.

Song Punchline Writer – If you can’t really spit it for yourself that well… or you’re far too ugly to be a star in today’s looks-first musical climate, you can always try your hand at living out a little Ghetto Cyrano [name that 90s R&B group]. While writing actually tends to pay better than actually being the horse artist the music is written for, that little star inside suffers. Little Chris’ ego never gets fed the way his mama hoped it would when he first rapped those Rakim lyrics into her potato masher when he was 6.

Banks could be one of the 5 best at this if he’d stop trying take the touchdown in himself. No, he can’t write a good song, but he can write a hot punch-filled sixteen for an “artist” with a chance. Float that thing up there for Chris Brown or somebody! You’ll both get credit for the 6 points. C Breezy will slide the cell phone fron under the goal post padding and handle the subsequent endzone dance.

The glory of the big stage ain’t for everyone. Ask Diane Warren.

Rap-Flavored Clothing Line Mannequin – Jay-Z draped his personal mannequin (Memphis Bleek) in the Rocawear prototypes before they hit shelves and trade shows. Since Banks has been around the house not doing much, 50’s been able to test his Gangstalicious Gear For Thugs 10-year-old girl tanktops on Banks.

Because yeah… While Lil’ Wayne may be able to coerce his way into making the masses believe he’s the best, it ain’t gonna happen for Banks that way.

I don’t think anyone would hear him anyway.

Questions? Comments? Requests? Holy fuckballs. I didn’t even curse in this shit!

I would have cried like a little girl to see Nas pull a Jay-Z out of his ass on stage at Rock The Bells this weekend.

No nullus.

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