By James Lewis
My music makes me cringe sometimes, especially at work.
Why?
Well, imagine preparing for Monday morning madness at your work desk. It’s just another day on the job—the same ole’ same ole’, nothing special. To help drive 9-to-5 hours along, you grab your iPod.
While fidgeting with the pint-sized DJ system, your supervisor stops by to rap a little morning small talk. You know, the “how was your weekend” stuff.
With your thumb on the iPod play button, you reply, “Nothing big. Just a little—”
But then...
“‘Cause some niggas ain’t nuttin but bitches! I be killin’ mutha—”
Oops.
So much for small talk. Nothing like a spitfire of N and B-words to kill that.
Panic kicks in. You reach for the volume knob, scrambling to kill X-rated babble blasting from five-inch speakers, but you knock over your coffee cup in the process. Starbucks Apple Cider spills onto the organizer you had bought from Staples the day before.
While dropping mad cries of “bitches” and “niggas” to hush level, a hard frown sets on your supervisor’s pink face. Kind of a strange look, actually. Somewhere stuck between shock, surprise, humiliation—maybe even disgust. Then he steps away, shaking his head.
And you didn’t even hear how his weekend went.
This ever happen to you? Well, if you bump today’s Rap music, it probably has.
If lyrics like “beat that bitch’s pu**y up” rape eardrums of individuals with no interest in Rap music, what are they really whispering under their breaths? Does he or she simply say, “how can anyone listen to this crap?” and move on?
Or does Rap feed stereotypes of the men who spit four-letter lyrics in almost every song?
I believe you know the “men” I’m talking about.
Black men.
One can argue the steady ensemble of MTV and BET thug nigga-slash-big balla-slash-playa pimp images “validate” racist stereotypes. If they say it in a verse and act it out in “reel” life, what they say is true in real life, too.
Right?
So does Rap foster the common belief that black men have itchy trigger fingers, drooling for the next violent act--or beef?
Maybe it does.
No, I’m not hatin’, just statin’. I didn’t sip on a Haterade Forty-Ounce.
And, yes, I love Rap. What, you thought I didn’t? During a chunk of my thirty-five years, I’ve not only walked the walk of a true Rap fan, but a Hip-Hop head as well.
Rap and Hip-Hop differ, by the way: Hip-Hop is the Make; Rap is a Model. If ya don’t know, now ya know.
I used to throw my hands in the air like I just didn’t care to Rap. Still do, matter of fact. Nothing compares to the earthquake thump of Hip-Hop bass, especially in “da club” on a Friday night. To this day, you can catch me doing the same ol’ two-step to a Hip-Hop beat.
But I don’t care what anybody says: Rap today can’t touch the Old School.
In the 80’s, the golden years of Rap, UTFO, Run D.M.C, Big Daddy Kane, LL Cool J, MC Shan and Dougie Fresh glued my ears to my hand-me down beat-to-hell boom box with a metal clothes hanger as an antenna (I’m sure you knew somebody with one. Maybe even you). Had me knee-deep into the wee hours of the night, recording radio street party mixes on scratched-up TDK cassette tapes.
And the rapper Rakim? In a league of his own.
Rakim pretty much forced everybody on the rap scene to step the game up. Lyrics like “party people in the place to be” didn’t cut it once he spit rhymes.
Back in those High Top Fade, Kangol, too-tight PUMA sweat suit days, rappers would sneak in a curse word or two--but bitch-hoe-nigga lyrics never manhandled the whole song. You’d probably even raise an eyebrow, gasp, and say, “what? He said the ‘F’ word!”
But N.W.A, Geto Boys and Two Live Crew--three of my favorite groups back in the day--laid the groundwork for a new breed of lyricism. No turning back after them.
Now it seems 90 percent of rappers today are setting world records for most curse words in a verse.
And the lyrics, man...damn.
“Stomp that hoe on her toe, yo’, she gotta go! Den line dem bitch niggas in a row, blast ‘em wit a forty-fo’!”
And that’s a tame verse. And I admit, lame, too. But you get the point.
You know what, though? The words aren’t as bad as what the TV sometimes reveals.
It seems every other month, you either read about or see a rapper on MTV-or-BET News busted on some charge. Does the news ever surprise you? Probably not. I bet you don’t even flinch when you read a headline like, “Rapper arrested for gun possession today at blah, blah, blah...”
Do you?
I don’t. Routine as beef between famous rappers.
And why so much beef, anyway?
We’re in different territory, now. Definitely ain’t in Kansas no more, Toto. The climate of rap wars can usher the threat of violence and--dare I say--death for any big-time rapper.
Tupac and Biggie lived in that climate. ‘Nuff said about them.
So it’s not just the lyrics, anymore, is it? Could one argue that brushes with the law and violent acts involving rappers caught on tape add fuel to negative stereotypes?
If you consider the 2000 Source Awards and 2004 Vibe Awards “fuel”--two buffoonery acts of epic proportions--maybe they do.
Because Rap is mainstream now--and we know what “mainstream” means--a wider lens zooms in on rappers more than ever. Let’s hope the Grammys don’t become the next platform for another Nigga Beat Down Pow Wow for the world to enjoy.
And you know what? It would be nice to blast my iPod without fast-forwarding every five seconds. I admit, when I get my ear full of lyrics like “smack dat bitch with my pimp hand,” sometimes this black man shakes his head, too.
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