Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Rap.....Rest In Peace
Leave it to my favorite dude in the world DJ Khaled to just beat a dead dog.
The fuck, motherfuck, fuck shit, fuck is wrong with people?
What does this video/song even fucking mean?
This is probably the most homoerotic thing I have ever seen since they came up with UFC. It's like a retarded urban version of a bachelorette party.
- cliche outfits
- novelty jewelry
- random chicks holding spray cans
- Rick Ross blowing smoke o's
I was waiting for these dudes to bust out boas and wiener shaped shot glasses.
The collective swag of this video can be visually summed up by the photo above.
And then Khaled started rapping.
I don't even follow this dude so I have no idea if that was his first time on the mic, but that shit is wild not needed.
How many good Persian rappers are there?
That's right. Negative 47.
C'mon.
I mean dude is paid or whatever, but it's that really weird type of paid where you don't have any idea why this dude is famous or what exactly he does also known as the Don King Hustle. When you have no idea why someone is famous then they are most likely an opportunist. They see an opportunity and strike like a triflin video hoe.
You can't rap? Don't trip blood. Just find someone who can i.e Biggie then sign that dude to a slave deal and then whisper weird ass shit on his records until you feel comfortable enough to rap yourself.
Same shit.
Can't make a beat? Don't sweat that shit player. Find someone who can. Sign that dude to a silly dumb contract and then put your name on the record and do a gang of interviews and take wild credit for inventing the Nike Swoosh logo, being the first dude to liquify coke, claim to have fingered Christina Aguilerra then take a photo of yourself in front of some fancy car with like ten rottweilers and 4 coke head strippers.....boom.
It is not rocket science. It's an old hustle.
If I am so "perceptive" why haven't I achieved unwarranted acclaim and success you ask?
Cause I have a fucking soul you fucking twit.
Random fact: Big Black of MTV's Rob and Big asked me back in the day to be his manager. Now in hindsight I may have made lots of money by taking advantage of said opportunity, but I was more like "Uh Black, I am pretty sure they have like a whole store of weasely white dudes that will take their 15% from those MTV pay checks."
Sorry for the digression.
My point is that rap as a genre is plateauing AGAIN.... it does this shit every decade or so and some new shit is gonna spring up and make this huge Dior shades, weird ass army boot, white backdrop, auto tune anthem shit yesterday's news.
We have no control over it and are sort of just stuck with it until it passes.
"But SDTW, is there anything we CAN do?"
Actually......yes.
If you are a reader from Miami and you see Khaled you have a few options.
Option 1:
Yell (loud enough so everyone can hear you preferably in a public place)
"Yo Khaled, make sure you shave your tits before the wet t-shirt contest, werewolf bitches never win them shits player."
sub note*
(chunk up a deuce as you're saying it and you might trigger a Pavlovian response from him so that he is chunking up one back at you, but then he realizes you are talking shit and he will have this awkward ass moment where he is giving you props for calling him a Persian Twilight Tittied Werewolf)
Option 2:
Follow in the footsteps of a young B Powders, and just make fart noises in the background when he walks. It's subtle but works on some classic 4th grade style humor. No one can look cool when someone is making fart noises while they walk.
Option 3:
If you happen to be serving Khaled at restaurant just work "da best" into your questions to him and his dining party (the dude clearly loves to eat.)
Khaled: Can we get some waters?
You: Certainly sir, our waters are da best.
Khaled: I think my steak is a little too rare.
You: Not to insult you sir, but I am pretty sure we da best when it comes to steak. Our chefs are da best. Our meats are da best. Everything we do is da best.
But until that happens.....we have to tolerate this shit in our peripheral.
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