Saturday, March 17, 2007

What do you want to do?




All I wanna do is ride around shinin' while I can afford it
Plenty ice on my neck so I don't get nauseous
Float around in the greatest of Porches
Feel like a chuck wagon cuz I'm on twelve horses
And the three behind mine (uh)
They be the click
So much ice in they rollies, the shit don't tick, man
Winter through the summer
Care less what it cost me
And while I'm shoveling the snowman

Call me the Frawsty, lova

I really do believe the Clipse makes truly contemporary rap because of these reasons:
  • Their cadence, voices, rhymes are straight-up undistilled fire.
  • They know what gangsta rap means. They have endured the hustle, and their lyrics show that in the end they want to advance the state of their community by setting an example. Their deeper allegories and symbolisms are essentially religious, harking from more conscious gangsta rappers like Biggie, Tupac, Nas, Az Izz, and one of my favorites, Scarface.
  • They're honest. They are cunningly nonchalant and admit that once and again they make mistakes, too. And they do admit that hey, we are "young, black, and just don't give a fuck," so they party like they're "young, black, and just don't give a fuck."
  • They straight up like to fuck with you on stage in concerts. When you're an artist, you can't help but be a sociologist, too, so they know what gets you begging for more. Those openers for the recent Clipse concert in the Mezzanine in SF were sociologists, too. They know how to get the crowd absolutely still. (Cricket chirps.)
Check out a Clipse concert sometime, and stand in the vicinity of college and post-college aged folks dressed in faded jeans, tastefully multicolored sneakers, shirts with a clever play on words, and New Era hats. (And maybe a bandanna or Arabic head-dress around their necks.) Once Pusha and Malice comes on, they won't be the only ones spittin'. I swear, Clipse concerts with a good crowd are really churches, where the lyrics sung are laced with the grime and grind of the streets.

No comments: