The rap attack is...
Rappers have achieved levels of success that the pioneers of this generational phenomenon could once only dream of. We are now witnessing is progressive prosperity: seeds sown by innovators of Hip-Hop are being fully reaped however, the harvest isn’t natural like it used to be. It’s a hopped up and recycled product – a shallow shell of the precedence that once set this art form apart from anything anyone had ever seen or heard before.
Today's creations are no longer demonstrations of individuality but are now half-man/half-amazingly-lazy duplications of successful blueprints. Current Hip-Hop offerings, even though they lack the breath originality, echo unsatisfying sentiments. Those who consume it seem completely unaware or unconcerned about the lack of uninspired, unproductive content they consume.
The lyricism of yesterday brought attention to storytelling using a wealth of words blended together to sound the same. The “lyricism” of today (at least what makes its way through the media’s red tape) is a poor sampling of rappers that sound the same. So much for creative expression…
So… in light of these clone rappers and in honor of The Last Jedi coming out this month, I give you the centerpiece of today’s “poetiorial”: The Rap Attack of the Clones. May we see the resurgence of individual soldiers uniquely imprinted like John Boyega’s Finn – whose became driven to go down a different path once his conscience awakened – to quite the storm of poor replications that have poured into and corrupted the Republic of Hip-Hop.
Sessions of Self-Destruction
We now live in a climate
Where lyrics are criminally minded.
We’ve been mentally blinded by “Thug Life” tattoos and attitudes.
It’s one thing to call attention to city limits –
It’s entirely another when it’s mimicked as a gimmick…
It’s an extensive epidemic of facts misconstrued on wax tunes.
I’d rather see emcees lyrically finesse with good hooks
Over emcees interiorly recessed in hood nooks.
God forbid they come spiritually correct from
the Good Book – pigs would fly first.
Instead, most choose validation
By corroding their talents wasted…
Into a pool of miscalculations that drowns and hides their worth.
What’s embraced now in raps and flows
is a blatant take on the files found in Attack of the Clones.
Rabid tones are etched in stones ‘round the necks of folks with a new noose.
If we could replace half of the status quo and flash that’s shone
With immaculate quotes filled with facts for the dome…
We’d be masters of our souls – yet instead, we disappoint like Episode II.
Caught in the middle of rap’s battle zone,
Hip-Hop’s new followers need chaperons –
Many have attached to roles where crack is sold not in vials, but images vile.
No one reverences the tracks of old
When veterans still had their souls…
If they’re not reppin’ capital, their style’s not worth mentionin’ now.
New jack rappers seek the easy way out in formulas
That have been easily laid out like flooring rugs.
Don’t consort with them, I’m warnin’ ya’ –
their deeds mislead and strip the people.
Today’s rappers have stolen harmonies
in their criminal records –
They all commit bold larceny with pitiful gestures…
When lines are contrived with minimal effort
I just say no to the track and skip the needle.
I’m worn out by tired flows and unoriginal ledgers.
I’m pullin’ horns out to blow whistles on these whimsical jesters.
They’re timid little hecklers – too afraid to stir still waters without stolen thunder.
They’d rather whine about grindin’ waistlines
And invade minds with tales of sellin’ base and dimes…
They’re all wastes of space and time –
as collabos implode wherever clone numbers lumber.
If you didn’t get it, study physics –
the latter line’s at its baseline.
Like matter can’t occupy the same space at the same time.
When we feel quakes, it isn’t the bass line –
it’s the ripple effect of self-destruction.
The way it reverberates affects the system
And sternly shakes vertebrates with its mechanism…
When words are fake, they wreck and wizen
the special wisdom once held in the subject.
This epidemic’s especially wicked
in the midst of cloning threats.
What once served as shock value now controls the set.
Biggie Smalls was the older Fett –
clones of the vet know success by emulating his role.
Rap’s overrun with so many random Boba Fetts
Carrying theoretical handguns and supposed threats
That the tones these kleptos have kept
slowly beget a single note that’s taken its toll.
Equal pitch and repeated frequency causes resonation.
When left untreated, the damage extends beyond reparations.
The aftermath’s a disastrous path set in the wake’s run –forget a takeover, take cover.
Like Todd after Diff’rent Strokes or
Like Nas when he rekindled his folklore…
The bridge will be over – as chasms between Blacks
and rap will crack from blasts of fake thunder
This week, one of our new members Reggie Legend, blessed us with his unique perspective on the state of hip-hop. We can wait to know what you thought of his gifted expression. Be sure to leave your comments!