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Fat Trel feat. I already did that once. No one got it. This video never aired on YO! MTV Raps. Son Doobie is really Son Doobie. But its tone is totally unique. This is high concept full-length comic rap-opera, the sort that no one has successfully attempted since A Prince Among Thieves.
Serengeti and Hi-Fidel grew up on the Golden Age. But rather than attempt to pass off some frozen yogurt mimesis of boom-bap, they built an entire world around an album allegedly suspended in amber.
Their story was that Jive gypped them and the album was shelved. The video was found almost 20 years later. Here it is fresh from Beats, rhymes, flows, patterns, age-tinted color tones, the dial perfectly stopped on the true year of the Funky Child.
Ric Flair was a loud, flashy wrestler with irrepressible charisma, a taste for expensive clothes, and an unexplainable hold over women. He was in a lot of ways the first rapping wrestler. The stomping drums and soulful crooning backing Mike makes it sound like a inauguration address, Killa Kill addressing the people from behind a golden podium. Berner ft. Berner is what would happen if you merged the lesser talent of N2 Deep with Turtle from Entourage. I have no clue how he lucked into this beat and line-up of guest stars, but imagine that it involved massive quantities of illicit goods moving out of Vallejo.
Even that was lucky. Sometimes rap can be pretty bad but completely great. This is a big dumb banger that takes you back to the era of Bob Bellamy. No one tell Yoko Ono about it.
DaVinci may never top the Billboard charts or be featured on a Drake song. None of his songs will likely used in a gritty New York-based gangster film or even a man child-driven summer comedy.
His no-bullshit cash-rules-everything-around-him raps convey both a sense of environment-caused desperation and never-stressed cool. Jonwayne ft. Snoop Dogg is worse than useless without a dope producer next to him. Porter, and Battlecat. Porter, and Battlecat! As much as Snoop loves the records that keep him famous, he still has an ear for gangsta revelry and theatrics. Raekwon ft. There are the runners in camo jackets hanging out on park benches at 3am, the shooters driving expensive cars behind them for protection.
Workers bag crack in the backseat of a luxury whip. Kilos in coffins and rocket launchers are smuggled through customs, the latter being a present from a surefire candidate for Auntie of the Year.
Until the elephant in the room grunts preceding his arrival halfway through. With his booming voice threatening to mangle the mournful trumpets into scrap metal, Rick Ross dubs himself the Timeline Strangler and his goons having irregular bathing habits due to their ankle monitors.
The Bawse huffs and stomps his way through his verse, brimming with confidence and challenging confrontation like a bull in the back of the Italian restaurant.
Slurping spaghetti and clutching Uzis in sports cars in a haze of angel dust smoke? Get Scorsese on it. Propain [Feat. Luckily, standout Houstonian newcomer, Propain, is around to remind us of the importance of delivering the appropriate anthem for struggling hustlers and people without many options everywhere.
It can be thankless work. Character is who you are in the dark. With a throat full of gravel, Ka describes a Brownville beyond good and evil with nouns, not adjectives. Judge me too quick, mistake me as a heathen. Nacho Picasso ft. He probably even watches Archer. He is childish, no need for labeling it as such. The Cool Kids ft. Chuck Inglish and Sir? Mikey Rocks rose to prominence three years ago with music that sounded like the most swagged-out STOMP performance ever.
It makes sense that an official debut might make a little more use of things you can actually find in a studio. So, for better or for worse, When Fish Ride Bicycles is a little less minimal and a little more musical. Whether it is worth the wait and the hype and the invention of the term hipster-rap or not, there are, like, instruments on here.
Real ones. Guitars and full drum sets. At the intersection of old and new. Nas slips knowing self-criticism into the front end of his verse, promising to stay focused on women instead of leaping all over the place.
Then he starts spitting reckless, talking about his explicit experiences with female lawyers and congresswomen, threatening to take your woman, not so he can smoke weed with her, but to buy her Vera Wang sandals and debut her on the carpet at his next non-profit.
I nominate Spaceghostpurrp for rookie of the year. Give me this over Lil Brother any day of the week. Fault Action Bronson for being shallow, but what the Chocolatier lacks in subject matter, he more than makes up for in pure energy, technique, and character. Yes, he sounds like Ghostface and yes, he talks about food a lot and yes, this sentence has been in every Action Bronson write-up ever. These are the gimmicks. As a writer, Bronson uses broad strokes, primary colors, lowbrow humor, and six sticks of butter, molding a huge personality and presence.
Lil Wayne ft. Or…lyrical memory. As for Wayne, well the non-sequiturs may not mean much but they sure sound better than his singing — or anything else off the Carter IV for that matter.
The formula of combining a rising southern star with a seasoned veteran to spit game over a wailing countryfried guitar beat was used successfully several times this year, this song was one of its better iterations. DJ Burn One, arguably the reigning master of country rap tune orchestration, starts his beat off like a muscle car revving up.
Jackie Chain takes first and third spots, waxing playalistic doubletime with razor precision, channeling a distinguished lineage that stretches all the way back to Iceberg Slim. Of course, none of this is particularly unique or original, especially in the context of the people involved. And it rides pretty damn hard. Gonjasufi plays Big Baby Jesus. A slurring demented prophet blurring the line between singing and rapping.
Organs blaze like an Italian horror film. Drums beat like brass knuckles. This sounds like the score to tracking a killer at a carnival. The lowz—defined not as debilitating but something to overcome.
Rap as psychological struggle. The Game ft. Goblin was compelling. Upload Music to itunes, amazon, spotify, google play, youtube, etc. Me Or Yourself? Hustle Gang — G. D 2 Iamsu! The Right Thing Iamsu! Cole — Truly Yours 2 J. Cole — Friday Night Lights J. Roosevelt — Journey EP K. Roosevelt — RoseGold Kafani — Mr. This is a list of all the mix tapes available on HNHH. It is sorted alphabetically and there will be listings per post.
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