Loyalty To Rich Niggas: The New “White” Man

 

I swear, if it ain’t one thing, it’s another. I’m starting to give up on you people and get my stuff together like those doomsday preppers because I’m sure one of ya’ll are bound to kill me before the government does.

 

Why do I say this?

 

Because “Black” people have lost what sensible mind they had left. When 2008 came, people lost their freaking mind because of an identity crisis. I’ve come to learn that this state of emergency will not be televised but perhaps realized when your sons or daughters threaten your life for correcting them or something weak like that. This loyalty to rich niggas has to stop. Straight up. Its killing us. All of us. Everybody. From Barack Obama to Lil Wayne and everybody in between that you put up on a pedestal but don’t want to hold accountable for their speech and actions, this has to stop.

 

Listen, “Black” people, “African-American,” people of color…whatever you want to call yourselves, this trying to find identity in others that are your shade that continuously throw shade at you is getting beyond ridiculous. The timely pacification of each generation is terribly noticeable and the ignorant bellowing of “that’s racist!” because someone makes a critic of one of your beloved gods continues to kindle my anger.

 

How do you defend somebody that continues to make a fool out of you? Huh? How do you do it?

 

I don’t get that. The pride that I inherited from my people throughout the centuries ain’t go for that. Do you not know about the dignity from which you came? Do you not know about the past mistakes that your forefathers committed so that you could learn and not repeat the same foolishness. I’m wondering, with all the information we have out here, readily available to us and the percentage of us who can read the American Standard English Language being greater than it was in 1849, why is it that you don’t know better by now?

 

Why is it that the most culture you recognize is what is captured on 50 minute increments on VH1 and the 28 days allotted for “Black History Month?” Why did our history have to start in 2008 when a nigga ya’ll never heard of swept you off ya’ feet like he was Disney’s monarch Prince Charming? Why do our “model citizens” have to be people that emphasize selling drugs to our own, that gyrate their vaginas or speak of beating the lining out of one?

 

You degenerates. You cry for ten minutes when they kill one of our children in the streets but then shake your ass when the dead child’s name is dropped in the newest club record (Shout out to William Leonard Roberts fat ass for that disgusting Trayvon Martin plug while the boy was fresh in the ground.) And now, add Lil’ Wayne and his oh-so-clever use of Emmett Till’s face (who, might I add, none of us would have never known the depravity of how beaten and mutilated he was if his mother didn’t have the courage and strength to show the world what those mongrels did to her child.)

 

Your loyalty to niggas because of their color and monetary status is sickening and disturbing. Disturbing in the fact that what will be defended will be Lil’ Wayne’s use of…whatever the hell he uses to put those basic, monotonous entendres together. Because I’m a master of double-speak and all things bull$#!+ (I’m burdened with this task, for ya’lls sake) I know a person’s spoken intent and their true intent. And with this, the intent is simple: to unforgivingly feed you another “hot line” to another “hot song” of another “hot album” that’ll be embedded in your mental file cabinet and probably in your iTunes at the cost of $9.99.

 

You will be more ready to defend Lil’ Wayne over the memory of Emmett Till. Why? Because Lil’ Wayne is your culture. Lil’ Wayne is your role model. Lil’ Wayne is the example of the exceptions, not the rule so people have ruled this as acceptable because they too, aspire to be the exception. Emmett Till is not your culture anymore. Lil’ Wayne is. Throw Kanye in that bunch too as he was one of the last rappers to allude to the deceased, comparing his swollen face to a young boy who was MURDERED for whistling at a “white” woman. I’m sure his drop got a pass, as in retrospect, an inflamed jaw is not comparable in disrespect, as say, a half-mutilated vagina.

 

“Yo, at least that nigga got money, he can say whatever he want…what you got? What you doing?”

 

Well, if it was certain that “gettin money” would excuse me of my moral and ethical responsibility to this society, well, I’d probably wouldn’t be snitching on my constituents by this piece I’m writing here. I’d probably be lauding you with reasons as to why this should be excused and the “positives” of a drug-induced rape culture and then clicking champagne glasses with the President and the rest of his JeWISH flunkies. Because, rest-assured, they aren’t getting money with you. They’re not even getting money like you. They’re getting your money (and energy…and mind…and comprehension) like “whitey.” Because “white” means “right.”

 

I bet Emmett Till, although young and inexperienced in matters of commerce as he was just fourteen when he was brutally murdered, knew that “whitey” had his hands in all the pots and pans. He witnessed this racism, as racism is the impeding of someone to attain status, wealth, acquiring of land or participation of government due to the color of their skin.

 

Now, if applied to today, the niggas you are so dedicated and loyal to, and base your culture around are racist. They sell you stories of how they “started from the bottom” (the new “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” slogan); they find any kind of avenue to make money off of you, they employ methods to keep you from investing and educating yourself about the things that matter such as the components to community and nation-building which include: law, economics, town infrastructure, agriculture, etc; and they promote media bonanzas that push propaganda that encourages you to continue participating in a beat-you-til-you’re-dead system.

 

Now if that doesn’t sound like some mid-20th century “white man” shit, I don’t know what does!

 

$#!+ ain’t changed. But hey, it doesn’t matter because as long as they’re a rich “Black” “African-American”, “person of color,” they deserve rose petals thrown on the street like these niggas is “King Jaffe Joffer” or somebody huh?

 

So much for culture. The most culture you people know is the filth that continues to spread to the next generation. You people ain’t leaving nothing for these kids but some mixtapes and an “I voted” sticker, smh.

 

I’m disgusted. Get real and get right. Sick of this stupid shit.

 

– The Former “Blackness”, Not the Latter.

(Sasha Vann)

Bend Over For The God Damn Cracker ::: A Slaughterhouse Fan Review of Our House

“Bend over for the god damn cracka, no vaseline…” – Ice Cube, Death Certificate(1990), “No Vaseline”

 

Ultimately, I wish someone would have warned me that Eminem had become the fifth member of Slaughter House. Or better yet, I wish I would have known that the album designed with the chyron of SlaughterHouse and “Our House” was actually Eminem’s latest album featuring Royce the 5’9″, Joell Ortiz, and Crooked I. Sure, there is also Joe Budden on a few tracks here and there where he should have had more of a leading role. The introduction of the album with Eminem was inspired by the same Caucasian macabre that inspired Em’s career. The song “Our House” has one bar with Joey interspersed with Eminem. If we need to remember how “Our House” was built, Joe Budden invited the party collectively known as “Slaughter House” to share bars with him on a track on Joey’s album entitled,”Slaughter House”. Beyond that glaring oversight, I felt the lyrical content of the album was exactly what hip hop fans, wait, it is 2012…the album’s lyrical content is what those that grew up when Hip Hop was more than a few hot bars and an R & B or pop hook would appreciate…

 

I was introduced to Slaughter House through the “Move On” track. I was one of those listeners that tunes into music to release energy vibrations that left unhandled could become dangerous particles of a criminal record. The song’s energy and vibration resonated with me at that time. “That time” being when I was attempting a degree from Webster University in St. Louis…while also attempting to figure out how homeless people survived. Not so much for a class paper, more so because I was getting cold sleeping outside of people’s buildings and I needed some tricks of the lifestyle while I was homeless. This review is not about the SlaughterHouse album from the perspective of SlaughterHouse;it is a review of the feelings and thoughts generated and synthesized by one of SlaughterHouse’s paying fans.

 

I’m not happy with the Eminem influence throughout the album with misogynistic (and puerile) raps such as “Throw that” where the hook is: “I’ll throw this dick on you girl.” One of the most inspiring things about SlaughterHouse’s initial underground release was that you felt it was grown people’s hip hop. Although, Joell Ortiz has admitted bouts with women illuminated on tracks like Move On when he speaks about being a kid in the hall during parties, I felt Eminem is still that White teenager with great lyrical ability but not matured by the pain of a distressed childhood in the same manner than most men are. Joey isn’t always the most mature member of SlaughterHouse but there is an element that separates him from sophmoric antics and a Black guy wrestling with hypermasculinity.

 

Once again the white master of ceremonies, Emimen, sprinkles a cloying overdose of pop on top of the song “Get up”. This is followed up by an obviously White audience of fifteen year old girls inspired track with crossover specialist Cee Lo on the hook, “My Life”. As with the initial release, *cough* leak *cough*, “My Life” caused those loyal to the sound of Slaughter House, (read: Black Hip Hop listeners), felt the track was not only a removal from their underdawg image, but it was just tacky and saturated with a feel I expect more from a Justin Timberlake and T.I. track.

 

Hammer Dance was a banger when I first listened to it. “Our Way” is a bit more of the edgy, boom bap type of song. The infectious hook and byline to other musicians that may criticize them (“Get over your Selves”) drives the track home as Detriot’s Royce pulls to the front the four man frat sounding very musical elder here. With lines like,”Sellin’ out [is] the short cut/Integrity is the scenic route”, Crooked is easily on par with his lyrical quadruplet.”Flip A Bird” is still on of my favorites from the album. “Goodbye” was another cut that reminded me of why I felt that “SlaughterHouse” was the ressurection of Hip Hop.

 

“Park It Sideways” made me gag. Maybe I’m allergic to artists that can’t actually generate content reducing them Selves to the average hot radio track. The synths on the track aren’t as obvious as a basement producer tinkering with Pro-tools might have chosen, but it resonates with me somewhere between a Drake production and a Minaj hope. “Die” sounds like Eminem wanted Akon on the track but couldn’t come up with an offer the Afrikan hook master could not refuse.

 

I understand the western world — and predominantly the White male existentialist thinking — weighs success by the numbers generated or the effects of an implement. I can deal with that. What I am upset with is the degree to which Eminem fails to have faith in those whom he has signed. The height of Death Row comes when Suge Knight offers to rap acts a contract where he, the investor and executive producers, promises to NOT be in the videos. In this vein, I just feel like Eminem needs to be less Sam Rothstein.

 

Deep down, I really just want to know how Slaughter House even feels, HONESTLY, about the “Our House” effort.