Feel My Face

Juelz Santana + Lil Wayne: Bonafide Hustla
Mick Boogie + Juelz Santana + Lil Wayne: Blow - The I Can't Feel My Face Prequel

21 Questions (feat. Nate Dogg [Possibly. I have no idea. You heard something?])

+ When, precisely, is something so homo that it's no no homo? Which is to say, what is the threshold of homo?

+ Just how powerful a qualifier is 'no homo' anyway? That is: How 'homo' would it be to say, par example...wait, that wasn't it. Was that too homo for you? Let me start again:

"Jeezus, Marvin, you've certainly got quite the pussy wrecker on you. I wouldn't mind assimilating that butternut squash with my anus." Can one 'no homo' their way out of this?

+ Is calling 'no homo' like calling marshal law? Can a transient regime of 'no homo' be retracted? Consider the following: "Jeezus, Marvin, I say again, that is quite the placenta tickler. No homo, of course, old chap. Now: would you mind if I slobbed that shiny knob of yours? Oh, and, you know what? On second thought, homo. I recant. Yes, homo it is."

+ By virtue of the fact that you've seen fit to utter the phrase 'no homo' and ensured that your every possible word is not misconstrued, doesn't that imply you're constantly envisioning acts that others would construe as, well, homo? A prudent man might opine that everything else you say is, well, non-no homo, no?

+ Is 'no homo' available for gay usage? Why not? If so, shouldn't we be imagining exactly how 'homo' something would have to be in order for a queer gal or guy to use it in proper proportion?

"Say, my Good Homo Friend Jermaine, did you purchase that new Fiddy record? No homo."

+ If we're truly to insulate ourselves from the homogeneity (no ha-ha) of it all, shouldn't we be saying 'no homo' a lot more? Like when, you ask?

Like all the time.

Like after using the internet. Why? Because "you" were probably looking at gay porn.

Like after eating. Why? C'mon. "Eating?" Clearly just a cover for wanting to eat gayness.

Like after brushing your teeth. Why? Obviously.

Oh, right. This mixtape. Title's a li'l bit gay, I guess.


How Could You Doubt Me?

Young Jeezy: Jeezy Speaks
DJ Drama + Young Jeezy: I Am The Street Dream

I haven't been the only one to point this out, but really for real, if you'd heard this on your personal, portable rap music listening device, maybe we'd already be agreeing that rappers should forego the album, fuck the mixtape game (!), screw a studio session (but definitely keep your man who rolls your blunts and pours your fruit juice into plastic cups), and just record "rapping" onto hi-fi answering machine tapes. Put that on the streets; see who hollers back. Maybe Jeezy says, "Fuck a song." Fuck with structure instead. Fuck that new workout plan; here that new business plan: "I got something for all you niggas man."

A Trap Or Die Roadmap

+ Time spent in traffic: "Every day."
+ Monday: "@ Magic City"
+ Tuesday: "In the 'hood"
+ Wednesday:@ "Body Top"
+ Saturday: "@ 112, steady strapped."
+ How to occupy rest of week: "Shit to do, hoes to fuck, shit to smoke."
+ Real niggas still to be freed: Big Meech, Old Dog, Mailman, Goldmouth
+ Time you have to get your shit together: "A month"
+ How long a month is: "That's 30 days."
+ "Niggas" dropped during 2:00 track: Forty-nine

It's about delivery, yes -- elevating the banal through sheer charisma, etc. -- but the banal that's elevated ain't Jeezy's day-to-day, but instead the beat-horse "rapper's voicemail" trope. It's never just the voice, the ad-lib-as-laugh-track (Ha-ha!), or flow-for-flow's sake alone. One's inextricable from the next -- hot beat or not, whole-not-parts -- which is why Jeezy could read your grandma's grocery list and you'd still listen.


A Bar A Party An Institution

Birdman & Lil Wayne: "Don't Die"
Like Father, Like Son

Re: "Gangsters don't die they get jumpy and they move to Miami. I moved to Miami. I'm banned from Wet Willie's but a nigga like fuck it."

I assumed this was like some chic bar, Wet Willies, some place where the gangsters go, basically a real-life rap video, dudes doing the Will Smith dance from Wild Wild West, chicks just shooting each other with hoses filled with hennessy, everybody wearing a bikini including the more aggro chicks who try to wear those ridiculous shorts (it's like get yourself the fuck cleaned up and put on a bikini bottom for chrissakes), somebody every five or six minutes driving a sweet "whip" into the middle of the dance floor, whipping it real hard. Then I checked and thought, for a minute, that Wet Willies was Wet Willy's, which is an "edible drink" i.e. body shot. I can see Wayne getting banned from Wet Willy's, or at least from giving them, like if he didn't pay for a shipment and the checkers at Wet Willy's body shot LLC were like fuck this guy, fuck this Lil Wayne guy.

Instead Wet Willies is, as mentioned above, a bar a party an institution:

Wet Willie's Philosophy: Wet Willie's endeavors to serve great tasting frozen daiquiris, with an honest portion of alcohol, at fair prices, in a fun and safe environment. This philosophy is put into practice by our continuous efforts.

I mean how the hell do you get banned from a fucking daquiri place. Maybe over the 7-11 slurpee thing I did pre-MH when you'd buy a large slurpee, fill it all the way up, drink half of it in the store, then refill it, then pay for it? Or maybe the other 7-11 slurpee thing I did pre-MH, which was that I often mixed two sometimes three flavors into one cup? Did you know Heathcliff's non-MH friends (forsooth) called him the Catchdubs of frozen edible drinks? One Girl Talk Slush Puppie Remix, Mr. The Rub?

This is nothing to be proud of, this de facto degree in mixology--but certainly not anything worth getting banned from Wet Willies either. So why would this be a thing Wayne is proud of? Countless awesome people including pre-conscious Ludacris threw down at Wet Willies, enjoying their delicious daquiris with honest portions of alcohol at fair prices. Just take a look at this image:

You'll notice you can get flavors such as Call-A-Cab, Pina Colada, Sex On the Beach, etc. This place looks pretty fucking awesome if you ask me.

The weird thing about mixing slurpee flavors, btw, is that no matter what combination you try, the end product always ends up this weird green color, and always tastes delicious.


Dialysis: A Requiem in Three Parts

Young Buck [feat. Jazze Pha]: If You Want Some
DJ Smallz & Rick Ross: Southern Smoke # 28 - Heat Wave

"...if we can name names at all in the way this poll presumes is somehow natural then we would have to name Jazze Pha for both “Lose Control” and “1, 2 Step” which right there gives him one more perfect song than the guy who will win this poll and oh also he made tremendous tracks on albums by Nelly, Slim Thug, Young Jeezy, Bun B, Trina, David Banner, Jacki-O and I can’t even remember what all else, this was his year even if he’s not a sonic adventurist on par with the other great producers of the millennium but this is his year because he made more good minutes of music listening than anyone else but also because he is better at narrating both cultural history and daily life through dance beats than anyone since Nile Rodgers & Bernard Edwards which is to say Jazze Pha makes the most embodied music of this particular time and place..."

This is an excerpt and I don't want to misquote, misinterpret, misappropriate or misognynize (yuk-yuk) in any way, so I urge you to read the above linked post in its entirety, despite the fact that it's nine months old and is a flittery attempt at run-on as poetics w/r/t the possibly now-defunct Pazz n Jop poll. I admire the verve in Jane Dark's voice. But verve and taste are naturally about as alike as fishscale and Fishbone. Which is to say, shut the fuck up. I, like most every person I know that dwells on R&B and hip-hop, loathe Phalon Alexander. His drops, ("Ladies and gentlemen...") are the beckoning of Satan's army, one-two-stepping to demonstrative foolishness, but they're just a drop in the bucket of bile I have for his music and have always been bemused if beguiled by any sort of critical appreciation for the man. And yet, if I so choose, I can avoid him at all costs. No Ciara, No LeToya, and so on. A pass was granted to Tip, in accordance with the Atlanta code. Though it is worth mentioning that "Let's Get Away" and "Get Loose" are among the absolute worst things that Mr. Harris has ever been a part of and the lack of Pha-talism on KING, was a grand gesture toward establishing his once-unclaimable-though-now-so-very-necessary title: Purple-people-eater. But. But. But...


But. But Mr. Phizzle, now you've gone too far. In the metaphorical sense, for certain, but also, in your travels to Memphis, Tennekey, where the Buck-aloes roam, you've come too far and you've poisoned all that is sacred. When things don't go as we hope they will (Lebanon, David Mark Carr, the weather, romantic endeavors, cooking, Little Miss Sunshine) there has always been Young Buck, not just a guiding light, groggy in sentiment but vociferous enough to raise spirits. Jazze Pha, with those very same sine lines, those very very same bass notes, those very same "WHOOOOO-EEEEE!"s he built a deacade's fuckery on, invades an inner sanctum and thus begins the descent of a decent, and we mean decent in the highest regard, as in "You're a decent kind of man" the sort of thing Belles say to otherwise scurrilous cowpoke, man. For the first time, I'm concerned about the decency of Buck the World. It is with great sincerity, we deliver to Pha and loyal subjects, Pha-lites: Buck you. Stay away from our man.


What You Call Me For?

Fam-lay [ft. Pharrell]: Beeper

As I come to terms with why I'm eh on "Skrunt Owt" but ~~~~~~~!!!! on "Beeper" (that is me popping serious boner james), I can't help but think of 50 Cent's "Just A Touch": "Nas fall in love with hoes / me I just like 'em." Great beat on "SO" obvi, and I dig Wang's "sound of a slo-mo driveby" read even though it's much more likely the sound of, ahem, someone skrung owt. But there's something too personal/Requiem For A Dream about the hook that weirds me out: Your bitch keep calling. Fam-lay's all about them digits. I dunno, why did drug dealers decide to start being everybody's good friends? Why do drug dealers constantly feel the need to act like they're doing everybody favors, loving the block, and so on? I know a drug dealer around East Village who will purposefully leave shit at your house so she has to come back and get it, and hang out, and get to know you, and suddenly you're having dinner with her and getting your drink on because you sense she just wants to feel better about herself. Who's the samaritan?

Anyway, as above, I just like hoes. The beeper is a return to the impersonality, which is good cuz in my mind, ha, coke rap's gotten a little too friendly. I want to feel like I'm out of the loop and don't know what the fuck's going on--too much to ask? To wit: I honestly haven't seen a beeper in ten years, when my Uncle Michael used to call his own beeper just to make other members of my family jealous. Dude would actually ditch the conversation, use my house phone, then run back in time for his beeper to go off. Just sayin, nobody knew what the fuck was going on, and hip-hop was better for it.

Now we live in a post-Mike Jones world. Who? Every clown in rap has her face on 4th Street wheat posters, all "my number is so private it's public," which makes no sense and I think that's great. Fam-lay's flow feels dated like his technology, which is brilliant, and despite all the hi-techery (the instant messenger sounds Pharrell's worked in there, the hilarious warning sound a Mac makes when you do something stupid like click the screen in a spot you shouldn't, the Windows "we just finished installing something, time to reboot" noise), he's still stuck on the basics: "Niggas come quick like an email." They just come quick--probably because they're all text, no attachments or anything. Imagine if niggas came slow like an email with attachments. I bet that'd be pretty fucking annoying.


Mr. Just Heard The Dirty Version

Clipse [ft. Pharrell Williams]: Mr. Me Too
He Doesn't Hear A Single

My dirty version secret, I just heard the non-Fader'd, non-semiclean version of "Mr. Me Too," like an hour ago. The song's up there topten 2k6 for me, yet I still hadn't heard Pharrell say "niggas" or Pusha or Malice say "fuck." Pretty embarrassing. It's like eating a piece of swiss cheese without the holes, or drinking wine out of one of those plastic wine glasses that has the stem but not the coaster. It's like two hot guys kissing sans tongue. Yet somehow the way Pusha bites off that "FUCK" on "fuck yall been doin" really gets to me. Huh? Somebody stick a condomless dildo up my butt already.

Don't get me wrong. I've heard plenty of major-label black rappers curse on their records. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff I've heard rappers say over the years actually. Shit, bitch, gay, AIDS, you name it--I've heard everything (though curiously not "Jesus Bag Cockbag"). And in the case of Pusha, the extra emphasis makes sense at least dramatically--he's genuinely confused about what you all have been doing, so obviously he has to say "fuck." What have you all been doing? He spits a little on the microphone too.

I'm trying to think of other songs where I became really attached to the clean version. Hammer's "Too Legit to Shit"? Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Fuck"? Actually the big one for me was Jay-Z "Can I Get A..."--I seriously had no idea Jay wanted to get a "fuck you." Totally floored me. I thought, maybe, "sand-wich." But "fuck you," no way. When I heard about this, my initial suspicion was that Weird Al had gotten to the track and cursed all over it like he always does. "Fucking Weird Al," I said to myself, pretending I was on broadcast radio. "Good ole Yankodick. He did it again."


Love It

DJ Whoo Kid: "Change of Heart Skit #1"
DJ Whoo Kid and 50 Cent: Hate It or Love It (G-Unit Radio Part 21)

Like being a douchebag or dickriding in general, image posting is MH heresy. Still:

Apparently I'm supposed to look at this and say, "Oh shit! Game in leopard undies! What a fag bag! What a bag of dicks that guy is!" Read Mix Unit, it's all there. Clinton Sparks really wants us to know this is some funny shit so he just comes out and says it--funnier than W*ll White Chocolate D*kes writing about some buttery silk morning dew r&b chartreuse myspace chick he found facefucking her computer microphone.

The rest of the tape 50 Cent lays into a bunch of clowns but mostly the 'Cane. From what I can tell, this is why he thinks Game is a douchebag: Game was once on a pretty awesome, always hilarious TV dating show called Change of Heart, a show that every guy has definitely tried to get on because "I know exactly what I'd do if I were on that show, they wouldn't be able to say shit about me, I would bag every girl five times, there would be a Blind Date episode about me being on Change of Heart," etc.; Game has a really great body, nice enough that he can wear leopard underwear and look pretty good in them, no homo; on Change of Heart, Game was revealed to be one of those guys who actually treats women well, dotes on them a lot, cares about their feelings maybe a little too much, borders on "smothering"; Game started rapping late in the *cough*, game, and he was shot in a less violent, "it could have been anybody" type situation as opposed to 50 Cent being gunned at for that roffable paper-thin moustache; Game is not a great rapper. That's about it. Funny funny funny.

My question is: Who of us is a great rapper? I've definitely tried a few times and could probably get better with more practice, but that doesn't mean I'm great. Also, so what if Game was really nice to women? I mean, he learned soon enough that you're not supposed to hold the door for them, or leave notes in the morning because then they always expect you'll leave notes and then one morning you wake up and you're just like the last boring boyfriend she had, or say "thank you" after sticking your penis into her vagina. Surely he learned soon enough. Buttholes are a different story.

This is the beef that keeps on beefing, you know. I'm thinking a lot about that image in my science book from grade school, the one with the piece of steak left out on the table, fastforward six hours, the steak has generated thousands of angry flies. Just saying, G-Unit needs to step up its Frigidaire game.