I love gangsta rap.
I’m not talking about recent Jay Z, or even early 2000’s 50 cent. I mean, they aiiiight though.
I’m talking about the old school early and mid nineties classics, like early Dre, NWA, Ice Cube, Tupac, Geto Boys. The lines they spit are so raw, so very un-PC in contrast to what is heard today (with a couple exceptions), it amazes me in the best way. Even Ludacris, the king of the dirty south, wasn’t as raw in the same way as Cube was in his first couple of albums. If you want to get a break from the false romance narrative in pop culture, look no further than 90’s gangsta rap.
Everyone knows that gangsta rap pissed off a lot of people in the 90s with lyrics that were lewd, inappropriate, racist, and dirty. There was an added reason that it struck at the core of people though: the large doses of uncomfortable truths that the music carried. People don’t usually get pissed unless they really feel threatened by something. Gangsta rap threatened the status quo because it was too real. Let’s take a look at a song from my favorite Ice Cube album, Death Certificate, “Givin’ up the nappy dugout.” Some of my favorite lyrics from the song:
Your daughter was a nice girl and now she is a slut
A queen treatin niggas just like King Tut
Gobbin’ up nuts, sorta like a hummingbird
Suckin up the lynch mob crew, and I’m comin’ third
Mr, Mr, before you make me go
I’m here to let you know your little girl is a ho
Nympho nympho boy is she bad
Get her all alone and out come the kneepads
Talk about an uncomfortable dose of reality. It reminds me of when my high school track coach’s daughter would sneak off during night meets to hook up with some dude in the adjacent baseball field dugout during meets. The rhymes are real, raw, the language is creative, and it’s just straight pleasurable to listen. He pissed off a lot of people but but Death Certificate sold over 100,000 albums the first week it was released.
Let’s have a look at a contrasting popular song from the epoch. Here we have a song from the Backstreet Boys, which dominated the airwaves Justin Bieber style for some time back in the 90s, “As long as you love me.” A quick refresher on the lyrics:
I don’t care who you are
where you’re from
Don’t care what you did
As long as you love me
A decoding of the lyrics leaves the listener with something along the lines of ‘I don’t care how long you’ve been riding the unicorn carousal baby, I’ll still love you even with that triple digit number.’ Okay, I’m exaggerating a little bit, but it is encouraging girls to think that guys should love them for essentially no reason, and guys to think…that they should love girls for essentially no reason.
The question I pose, though, is how mad can a person really get about stupid surface level love songs and movies? Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t everyone know that music and poetry and romantic comedies are full of shit?
Most logical people do understand that no, movies are not reality…but there is some little part of women that would like to believe that, yes, maybe I’ll go to college and meet the prince of denmark disguised as a regular student. I would throw out that there is self fulfilling prophecy at work here as well: people tend to believe what they want to believe. When someone someone finally publishes a real account of how shit goes down in the world, people tend to cry douchebag, ban the book, or in the modern day and age, make blogs with no logical argument. All the habullaloo made against the truthsayer generally has an inverse relation to the amount of truth being put forward. That is, the more a particular truth goes against the grain of the current matrix, the harder it is to swallow. This is nothing new; it’s been happening since the earth was the center of the universe. It’s simply the way of the world: challenge the status quo, upset the mainstream worldview, take a bunch of flak for it.
Young red-pillers, and quite frankly everyone, should go through at least one solid gansta rap phase in their life where they listen to it nonstop. I’ve got a pretty extensive knowledge of G rap to give out, but I’m also open if anyone wants to throw some classic album suggestions my way. And a piece of advice: for the love of god…turn off the radio as it plays Call me Maybe for the 113,000 time this summer and turn up the Notorious B.I.G. You’ll be happier you did, trust me.