I’ve never been much of a rapper, and this is something I now deeply regret.
At first glance rap may seem to be something of a grammatical blender. And in the mash-up of words and concepts you might be hard-pressed to believe that there’s an underlying order to the Ebonics, or any sense or reason behind the lyrics. You’re missing out.
Rappers are philosophers, and while we’ve been mining into Confucius and Plato, these young G’s have had the answers to life, the universe and women all along.
‘Got money, and you know it. Take it out your pocket and show it, then throw it, like.’ I assume he’s referring to the money.
But let me take a step back.
I’m not materialistic. I figure all I’d need on my way out is a clear conscience and clean underwear.
I took my brother’s convertible Mercedes this weekend and, as it turns out, I’m an idiot.
Philosophical journeys be damned, this is the only way to drive. As my moral fabric melted into the leather bucket-seats, I reached to signal right but only managed to blast on the stereo. And there he was, Lil’ Wayne, wheezing on about money, cars and dem beeches.
Jesus H. Benz.
‘Gettin’ mug from everybody who see then, hang over the wall of the VIP, like.’
The top was down, the rap was bouncing (?), and feeling almost dirty I took my brother’s Raybans out of the compartment and slipped them on. Could it all be this easy?
I turned into the beach road and like clockwork a Wrangler with four gorgeous women slows down beside me. Count them, that’s four bashful smiles aimed at my direction and I haven’t lifted a mental finger yet.
‘Okay, it’s Young Wayne on them hoes, AKA Mr. Make it Rain on them Hoes.’
They lower their stereo and start moving to my beat. Oh yeah. The blond in the back stands up to properly feel the, umm, groove? And her friend in the front initiates a shriek-fest of approval. All I had to do was smile back, and I’d have made four lovely, barely clothed new friends. But no, that’s the sentimental rocker talking. Yo, what would Lil’ Wayne do?
‘Bitch ain’t shit but a hoe and a trick, but you no one ain’t trickin? If you got it.’ (huh?)
Something came over me, and I looked at them without expression. I lifted an eyebrow through mirrored Raybans and slammed the kick-down (Hondas don’t have a kick-down, you see). The shrieks doubled – by God that’s what they wanted – heightened to an estrogenic crescendo, and somewhere between the car’s roar and the blonde’s Doppler effect, life became crystal clear:
Got money, and you know it. Take it out your pocket and show it, then throw it. Like.
Written for Time Out Beirut
I'm Karl, and I'm an acquired taste.
I've been an editor for 4 years, a writer for 5 more, and a geek ever since I wrote Pong on my first Atari. I'm married to the perfect woman and we live in the desert. 
Do you have a chainsaw I can borrow? I need to take out the top of my car… Then put some Snoop Dogg on my crappy car stereo. I’ll probably play the track “for all my niggaz and bitches” and then “Serial Killa”.
It’s really sad that people are like that. Anyways, I’m just repeating something that everyone knows… At least I think so…
@Antox
AWWW NAWWW NIGGA! I know you just didn’t diss S to the Nizzle to the D O double grizzle! Bitch you betta step fo my pimp hand sends you back to Africa. Recognize!
@Mika-lika-high-mika-high-dee-ho
Fo Shizzle Ma Nizzle!
Peace out Mo’Focka
Awesome Dr. Greenthumb!
@Mika-lika-high-mika-high-dee-ho
@Antox
I think you two are the absolute worse black rappers I’ve ever met, read or heard distant rumors of. I further recommend a rerun of Friday, as soon as possible, to get you up to speed.
@MooM
Supergreen?
awww… I wish I were blond and in a 4×4.. only THEN will I be happy!
no wait, I have a better rap song that will sing my feelings:
“hello, I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller, I wish I had a girl, who looked good, I would call her.”
Aaaah the good old days where rap was simple and polite, yo.
@Chirine
good ol’ days when rap was clean?
someone didn’t listen to dem west side riders. 2pac was my fav, den comes dogg n dre.
The song that got me into rap (back then) ?
“one, two, three and to the fo’
snoop doggy dogg n doctor dre are at the do’
ready to make an entrance so back on up
coz we’re ready to rip shit up”
so, a bit later in the same song:
“now you know i aint wit dat shit lieutenant
ain’t no pussy good enough to get burned while i’m in it”
NUTTIN BUT A G THANG BABY!
@Karl
for some reason, songs like these drove chicks mad .. u didn’t need to be the artist (like in my metalhead case, had to learn guitar n shit) , nah nah … just put a song demeaning them, in a hot rod (…ummm. the car) and a pair of shades, and u’r on fucken easy street…
Interesting subject, as always. What can I say? Reminds me of the good old days growing up in LA…..but in any case, I think you (along with certain commentators) bring up an interesting point, which I never understood: rap is incredibly demeaning towards women in particular, and why women actually enjoy it is beyond me. Don’t get me wrong, I too was a rap lover back in the day (Salt n’ Pepa were my fav), but that was before I started actually understanding the lyrics (and their insinuations!). I suppose some people never develop enough brain power for that, though, right?
I have to say, you sort of hit a bad nerve in me with this subject because I have such problems with it. I can’t understand why such bigotry, sexism, (sometimes racism), filth, vulgarity and downright bad taste can become such a large part of popular culture, clearly across continents? Perhaps this speaks of (yet another) worldwide social problem. Where is Superman when you need him?…
@Chirine
Simple and polite? Reminds me of something.. not rap though.
@Inna
Women don’t enjoy the lyrics as such, it’s more the bling lifestyle. I’m guessing here, but I feel that plenty of people (women included) just want someone to run their lives for them. They want to be a possession rather than an entity, because possessions get dusted and pampered, and don’t have to worry about power bills. If they get called hoes as a results, they’re OK with it.
@Inna
Superman is in my pants.
blond? wrangler?? you saying something Karl?
well I knew one person, that blond had a pentagram on board. If you mess with the car or the the girl, or if you drive in a way that might upset the driver in that wrangler. you would be a dead man.
And no, that wouldn’t be RAP or hiphop that you’d be hearing from the car, it would be an amazing solo by Randy Rhoads.
I love my sis!
@Karl
Not sure I agree with you about people wanting to be a possession. At least, it’s definitely not a conscious desire people have. But the bling lifestyle is definitely the key here. Sad what some are willing to give up for that; namely, their integrity!
@Michael Bazzy
Good to know. Will keep that in mind for future reference!
@Karl
I liked Emenem lots and for years! But I just got tired of the whole killing the mom and singing to the daughter and baby talkin the details of how the murder gets done. There is a darkness (and a whole language) that makes rap the art it is (I admit some is really impressive art), but beneath it all, it’s just sick.
I can still move my head to the beat when it plays and appreciate a good sequence of well put together figure of speeches, but overall, rap doesn’t do it for me anymore.
And correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t there a rap dance back in the early 90′s? You know, that “I’m runnin’ but I’m still here” dance? That’s the rap I’m talkin about ! When the pants were just getting baggy and below the butt and the hair was growing tall with names shaved on the occiput.
*shivers*
I don’t miss the 80′s but remembering the days still makes me smile…
@Inna
I don’t think it’s conscious either. In fact most of what people do isn’t. But it’s a combination of wanting to feel pretty, to feel protected and to feel secure; if you translate that into a relationship the easiest outcome is becoming a possession. A very distant second is building your self esteem and dedicating yourself to a lucrative career. But with men like Mike what woman wouldn’t want to stay home?
@Michael Bazzy
Wow.
@Trekman
I also love your sis. And I wouldn’t cross her, not in her Wrangler, and certainly not in that monster of a Toyota.
@Chirine
I miss the 90s. The 90s were our 70s, ya know?