Duck Down

Before cell phone videos, YouTube, and Akon, there was this: The Blastmaster KRS ONE tossing PM Dawn's Prince Be off the stage at Big Daddy Kane's birthday party-slash-concert* because Prince Be told a reporter for TV Guide (my memory may be hazy here; it may have been Word UP!) that Boogie Down Productions "[made] mountains out of molehills."

At the time (around 1991, this was), KRS, still my rhyming hero, ascended to the rank of Superman MC for that particular feat of strength.

Surely those were calmer days; maybe it's because PM Dawn was involved, but I believe that if Kris had thrown -- nay, catapulted -- ANY MC of that era, the result (or, more specifically, the "non-result") would have been the same: journalists debating over whether or not he was out of line, young hip-hop fans rejoicing over justice meted out to wack rappers, and no one died.

Picture 50 Cent -- just as an example -- bumrushing the stage during a Cam'rom performance and heaving dude into the crowd. You think Farrakhan, Oprah, or Jamie Foxx could stem the blood loss? Hell, Mr. Stop the Violence himself wouldn't have a listening ear. In fact, Kris would be labelled a hypocrite for admonishing from the sidelines what he once condoned on the field.

But the game has changed. Yeah, old man, keep talking. Back in those days it was kill or be killed, ON WAX. Check out fucking Ghandi over here. If you had beef, you settled it ON RECORD. Or online? Ha ha. Mark. That's how you keep it real. THAT's how you represent HIP-HOP. Fuck hip-hop. It's only a means to an end: money**. I represent myself, and if someone tries to fuck with my cred or diss me, there's only one way to handle it: straight the fuck up. Then, in the immortal words of Craig Mack, you won't be around next year. Record labels, if you DO get signed -- and that's a big if -- abuse and abandon young hoppers like you and assume no accountability worse than Vince McMahon does wrestlers. Fuck you, Prezbo. Expect nothing less from The Teacha. Holler at me when you age a few years and grow a few inches, if you're still alive. Maybe then you'll know exactly where to aim your anger. Faggot.

I know where I'm aiming my anger right now. And my shot is pure.

Blender Magazine, which I outgrew after Maxim but before death, recently released online and in print a list of the 40 worst lyricists. Nevermind that the list resembles a tabloidesque smearing of most of the artists they praise, admire and report on (because no one would read a list of the Worst Indie Lyricists You Have Never Heard Of), let's keep this PK for now.

Those fuckers, and I use the term harshly, placed Common and KRS ONE at 36 and 25, respectively.

Never trust a rapper in a sweater-vest.

Common wasn’t above dissing Ice Cube on “The Bitch in Yoo” (“I heard a ho say you her favorite rapper/So I had to slap her”), but don’t be fooled—he’s also a self-righteous hippie. The principled rhymer’s earnest neo-soul thoughts touch on abortion (“Turning this woman’s womb into a tomb”), social injustice and his own vegetarianism.

Worst lyric: “I’m your worst nightmare squared/That’s double for niggas who ain’t mathematically aware” (“Making a Name for Ourselves”)

I'm trying not to get heated, because it might wake up my girl and my dog (respectively), but did the child molestor*** who wrote that even realize that the last verse cited was from Canibus, not Common? Or do all black people sound alike? I'll be the first person to admit that Common fell the fuck off lyrically after One Day It'll All Make Sense, but putting him on the list with shit such as "never trust a rapper with a sweater-vest" and "he's also a self-righteous hippie" screams of racial bias. Let Com grow sunflowers in his ears if he wants to, and while you're at it call John Lennon a pussy. And Bob Dylan an MC Serch wannabe.

Boogie Down Productions’ leader goes Oliver Stone on us.

Though initially revered as one of the first MCs to wield political messages, the hip-hop pioneer’s raps devolved quickly from shrewd antigovernment observations to crackpot tirades and bizarre diatribes against the FDA and the IRS (“In this particular system everyone’s a slave/Racist is how they want us to behave” from “Who Are the Pimps?”). “Rap needed a teacher, so I became it,” he boasted—but soon found few students willing to show up to class.

Worst lyric: “See, cows live under fear and stress/Trying to think what’s gonna happen next/Fear and stress can become a part of you/In your cells and blood, this is true” (“Beef”)

Oh, now it's on.

Please explain, quantifiably, how "the hip-hop pioneer’s raps devolved quickly from shrewd antigovernment observations to crackpot tirades and bizarre diatribes." Unless you're a fruit fly, how can "quickly" be used as an adverb to define a perceived devolution from "shrewd anti-government observations" (dude was caught lookin' on that pitch, obviously) towards "crackpot tirades and bizarre diatribes"?

Did the writer listen to the BDP discography from start to finish in a single day? Perhaps; likely he just read the Cliffs Notes (aka Wikipedia), since no KRS solo albums are quoted. Most likely he read Kris's post-9/11 quote, and, like most, took it out of context. Again.

Again, I'll be the first to admit that

(I'm getting worked up over nothing)

Kris throws a wild pitch occasionally (here's me being a KRS ONE apologist). But to label him one of the worst lyricists with absolutely no evidence is a slap in the face to one of hip-hop's best lyricists (number one in my book****), and proof that the Blender braintrust is huffing gas. And prolonging the war in Iraq. Probably.

And molesting children. Perhaps. (I have no evidence, sadly.)

I loathe catchphrases that I haven't invented, but in this case it rings true throughout the pristine cathedral/temple/Madison Square fucking Garden of Hip-Hop:

Yo, stop frontin', and use your head.

Your magazine sucks now anyways.

Heave. Ho.

Bullseye.

(But maybe I'm just making mountains out of molehills.)

...And no one died.





* How in pluperfect hell PM Dawn was invited to attend -- much less perform -- BDK's b-day party is what I wanna know.

** basketball too, Hey Young World?

*** fair is fair

**** Blood, Sweat, and Eye Water. Pick it up from your nearest Barnes and Noble in 2010.