|
I hope u r not fish-ripper:). So u r workin in 2 diff places, or u can do ur shit on kn.koenig.ru from the workin place? |
well, Рэпка Moozzik is a kind of side-job/hobby mixture. i gather information both @work & @home, but mostly i write @home. This isn't a "real" job, just a blend of passion, showboating, graphorrhea and a way of getting free Internet hours :D |
yeah, hobbies r nice kind of shit... kinda healthy drugs, I think - they take ur time, mind, money, they pleased u, givin food to your state of mind. But they r not takin ur health and brains... experience knowledge;) |
d/l'ing Grvediggaz - 6 Feet Deep right now... Have somethin' 2 say, man? |
uhmm... what can you say about a group that was produced by RZA AND Prince Paul? Classic horrorcore rap :morj: This album was released in Europe as "Niggamortis". I'm not particularly fond of RZA's flow, but hey - a good album nonetheless. |
nice, man, it's already on my PC. it seems shit is 94-95? but I ain't gonna listen to it till I burn it on CD. PC'll never give u such the vibes as good home sound system... R u busy last days? Ur posts r small and poor, just couple of lines... earlier u was mo multiple:) |
y'all'z a joke |
...yeah, and you're a serious fukk-up |
Цитата:
|
Had a nice conversation w/ one nigga on Nas board during last couple of days. Dude was sure 50 is great, but after my posts he's not so definite 'bout it... Oh times, white russians know the game betta than black americans:) |
yeah, while in the States i was schooling one black guy on who M.O.P. and Jay-Z is :) |
хахаха... хвастаются шо типа с чёрными знакомы.. дибилы :morj: |
Toss, ты уж если решил наезжать, делай это как-нить по-интересному... в рифму, например. А тупых малолетних дебилов на х-х.ру и без тебя - с запасом лет на 15 вперёд. |
Цитата:
fuck outta here, lil biccc |
Цитата:
|
check out my diss in Toss'es own topic |
Цитата:
mhuhahaha |
Цитата:
ima spit sick cuz im ill n stunnin u hanging out here while ya moms givin head bitch find a job, or ya moms gon be shot with cum till she dead |
Цитата:
|
yeah, the last two lines just killed me :D also, I dissed the stoopid mo-fo Baur damn, i wish there were more people with ambitions to rhyme in English |
yo Mozzy wut happened to that fuckin ILLMICCC shit? can u access it? |
demise: i could care less what happened to SickBiatch, haven't been there for ages and, frankly speaking, i don't intend to. Ever. Too much spam, nobody to battle. |
fa fuck;s sake i hate that rotten place too the only thing i went ther for is swear at some wack bitch like BRT....that's it dog 1. |
hey yo, man how r u, haven't seen you 4 ages!!! |
hey yo, man how r u, haven't seen you 4 ages!!! |
and check yo private, maaaan!!!! wait for yo thoughts 'bout it... |
want yo thoughts asap, man! and what wit' The Realness review? Sorry for delay wit' mailin cds. U know - I promised, I'll do, so don't worry... |
Verse 1: (Prodigy) You's a notebook crook, with loose sleave beef a backseat criminal that pass the heat to somebody that blast the heat Man, it sound bad on the pad, what happened in the street? revealing on the vinyl an analog outlaw alot of gats on your DAT, tape southpaw you thuggin' when the mic's plugged in barkin' through the speakers like you got no sense you wild on the two inch got your platinum plaques to prove it your music's been around the World movin' and it comes right back around on the ground, don't it? now it's time to face your opponent Infamous cling to this real shit, stuck where we started at fuck that, not because we have to, I want to I love this shit, the raw is what I live for to hear the sound of the crowd roar for more to see the niggas that can't pay rush the door whylin' on the dancefloor when they song come on, swingin' they fists, ready for war but it's a different type of effect, it's not violence they're just tranced by the advance tranked by the sound bank put under the drum, numbed off of our shit now who you rockin' wit'? them or us deep love or cheap lust?, QB 'll bust Infamous 'till we pass on you laughin' at the wrong shit, I take ac-tion defend my confedons nigga I write bombs that'll shatter your ambitions of bein' top dog as we move through the stage fog I need to bass more so I can taste it and make ya'll go AWOL and lose it, say no more, brace your delf, nigga it's on.. Verse 2: (Cormega) (yo, back up yo..) Who's tale you tellin'? are you frail or felon? were you makin' sales or watchin' niggas sellin'? you exploit niggas lives in your rhymes and then avoid 'em you never felt the moisture in the air of coke boilin' you never felt the razor scrapin' your plate your hands achin' yet you keep choppin' 'cause theres paper to make you never felt the power of invincibility clutchin' a gun like fuck it dun, it's him or me at your best you was a hand to hand no more than Three grams what the fuck you know about a Ki, man? you never hustled lets get it right, my nigga Y would've stuck you stop dry snitchin' in your rhymes, listen what you tryin' to do? help the guys in Blue? indight niggas so that can be another rhyme for you? you a parasite, you never had a life so you throw other niggas lives in your pad at night it's clever when you write it spoken well for a dude who never been indighted you know the deal mothafucka, the real make the fake niggas kneel and lose appetites when you taste niggas steel my rhymes are what it takes to get a deal and make it real I'm like Big, you can't replace the skill I laced it ill like Cocaine in Scarface's grill your mothafuckin' flow is basic, chill I'm Cormega, raw forever y'all niggas know my steez, I'm reppin' for Queens you minor league I'm big time like Mark McGwire's team your whole team is pussy, when I squeeze vaginas bleed my lyrics stay official I bagged up coke on dishes made of crystal your niggas, they won't miss you my Nickel-plated pistol - got Sixteen shots, you can take 'em wit' you to the coffin or DA's office surgeory, nurses screamin' "We lost him!" life suddenly divorced him, fuck it, it cost him if you want beef say no more brace your delf, nigga it's on, we spray Four-Fours, bitch! Chorus: As time goes by, an eye for an eye We in this together son your beef is mines So long as the sun shines to light up the sky We in this together son your beef is mines Chorus Verse One: Prodigy Let me start from the beginning, at the top of the list KnowhatI'mean? Have a situation like this Another war story from a thirsty young hustler Won't trust ya, I'd rather bust ya, and leave your corpse for the cops to discover, while I be dippin in the Range Rover All jewelled like Liberace You watch me while Jakes tryin to knock me and lock me But I'll be on the low sippin Asti Spumante Niggaz try to creep on the side of my jeep Stuck the heat through the window rocked they ass to sleep Over a 3-pack, it was a small thing really yeah but keep lettin them small things slide and be a failure If I'm out of town one of my crew'll take care of ya The world is ours and your team's inferior You wanna bust caps I get, all up in your area Kidnap your children make the situation scarier Life is a gamble, we scramble for money I might crack a smile but ain't a damn thing funny I'm caught up in the dirt where your hands get muddy Plus the outcome turns out to be lovely Got G's in my pocket hit off my main squeeze Push back, the sunroof, let the cold air breeze through the butter soft leather upholestry But mostly, keep the gat closely, cuz niggaz wanna toast me Verse Two: Havoc Yo I gotta get mines, no matter what the con-sequences Count up my blessings, add up my weapons Cock back the gat and let my nine serve purpose Sling do my thing organize fiend servants Tryin to make a mil is stress you know the deal So we sling drills get your cap peeled, cuz everything is real cuz I wanna chill, laid up in a jacuzzi Sippin bubbly, with my fingers on the uzi Try to infiltrate my fort get caught dead up in New York, my brain is packed with criminal thoughts Get your life lost never found again my friend Mission completed, watch you drop in less than ten On my road to the riches, hittin snitches off with mad stitches Your last restin place'll be a ditch kid No one can stop me try your style's sloppy Want to be me, you're just an imitation copy My theme is all about making the green Livin up in luxury, pushin phat whips and livin comfortably Chorus Verse Three: Nas A drug dealer's dream Stash CREAM keys on a triple beam Five hundred SL green, ninety-five nickle gleam Condominium, thug dressed like a gentleman Tailor made ostrich, Chanel for my women friend Murderin, numbers on your head while I'm burglarin Shank is servin em, whassup to all my niggaz swervin in New York metropolis, the Bridge brings apocalypse Shoot at the clouds feels like, the holy beast is watchin us Mad man my sanity is goin like an hourglass Gun inside my bad hand I sliced tryin to bag grams I got hoes that used to milk you Niggaz who could've killed you Is down with my ill crew of psychoes Nas Escobar movin on your weak production Pumpin corruption in the third world we just bustin Verse Four: Raekwon the Chef Hold up and analyze the wildcats slang cracks they swing an axe, the new routines, be my eyes black's playin corners glancin all up in your cornea Corner ya, seen cats snatch monies up on ya But late night, candlelight fiend with a crack right It's only right, feelin higher than an airplane right Word yo, I want to get this money then blow Take my time, blast a nine, if you front you go Sip beers, the German ones, hand my guns to sons Shaolin, and Queensbridge we robbin niggaz for fun But still, write my will out to my seeds then build Mahalia sing a tale but the real we still kill Chorus 2X Outro: Raekwon Uhhh Lay back Word up, just bless em with the bulletproof Mobb Deep, Nas, Chef creation for your nation Yeah (Intro) Word up son, word yeah, to all the killers and a hundred dollar billas (yo I got the phone thing, knowmsayin', keep your eyes open) for real niggas who ain't got no feelings (keep your eyes open) (no doubt, no doubt son, I got this, I got this) (just watch my back, I got this first, yo) check it out now (word up, say it to them niggas, check this out it's a murda) [Prodigy] I got you stuck off the realness, we be the infamous you heard of us official Queensbridge murderers the Mobb comes equipped with warfare, beware of my crime family who got nuff shots to share for all of those who wanna profile and pose rock you in your face, stab your brain wit' your nosebone you all alone in these streets, cousin every man for theirself in this land we be gunnin' and keep them shook crews runnin' like they supposed to they come around but they never come close to I can see it inside your face you're in the wrong place cowards like you just get they're whole body laced up with bullet holes and such speak the wrong words man and you will get touched you can put your whole army against my team and I guarantee you it'll be your very last time breathin' your simple words just don't move me you're minor, we're major you all up in the game and don't deserve to be a player don't make me have to call your name out your crew is featherweight my gunshots'll make you levitate I'm only nineteen but my mind is old and when the things get for real my warm heart turns cold another nigga deceased, another story gets told it ain't nothin' really hey, yo dun spark the Phillie so I can get my mind off these yellowbacked niggas why they still alive I don't know, go figure meanwhile back in Queens the realness is foundation if I die I couldn't choose a better location when the slugs penetrate you feel a burning sensation getting closer to God in a tight situation now, take these words home and think it through or the next rhyme I write might be about you Chorus: Son, they shook... 'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks scared to death, scared to look they shook 'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks scared to death, scared to look livin' the live that of diamonds and guns there's numerous ways you can choose to earn funds...earn funds some of 'em get shot, locked down and turn nuns cowardly hearts end straight up shook ones...shook ones he ain't a crook son, he's just a shook one...shook one [Havoc] For every rhyme I write, its 25 to life yo, it's a must the gats we trust safeguardin' my life ain't no time for hesitation that only leads to incarceration you don't know me, there's no relation Queensbridge niggas don't play I don't got time for your petty thinking mind son, I'm bigga than those claimin' that you pack heat but you're scared to hold and when the smoke clears you'll be left with one in your dome 13 years in the projects, my mentality is what, kid you talk a good one but you don't want it sometimes I wonder do I deserve to live or am I going to burn in hell for all the things I did no time to dwell on that 'cause my brain reacts front if you want kid, lay on your back I don't fake jacks kid, you know I bring it to you live stay in a child's place, kid you out o' line criminal minds thirsty for recognition I'm sippin' E&J, got my mind flippin' I'm buggin' think I'm how bizar to hold my hustlin' get that loot kid, you know my function cause long as I'm alive I'ma live illegal and once I get on I'ma put on, on my people react mix to lyrics like Macs I hit your dome up when I roll up, don't be caught sleepin' cause I'm creepin' Chorus: Son, they shook... 'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks scared to death and scared to look (he's just a shook one) they shook... 'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks scared to death and scared to look (we live the live that of diamonds) they shook... 'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks scared to death and scared to look they shook... 'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks, crooks.. livin' the live that of diamonds and guns there's numerous ways you can choose to earn funds...earn funds but some of 'em get shot, locked down and turn nuns cowardly hearts end straight up shook ones...shook ones he ain't a crook son, he's just a shook one...shook one Yeah, yeah, yeah To all the villains and a hundred dollar billas To real brothers who ain't got no dealings G-yeah, the whole Bridge, Queens get the money 41st side (he's just a shook one) keepin' it real (you know) Queens get the money... (Talk fades out) |
Artist: Capone, Cormega, Marley Marl, MC Shan, Millennium Thug, Mobb Deep, Nas, Nature, Tragedy Khadafi Album: QB Finest * Queensbridge: The Album Song: Da Bridge 2001 Typed by: [email protected] (Aiyyo calm down, fall back! Y'all Queensbridge always fightin up in here!) [Marley Marl] Ladies and gentlemen, we got Queensbridge Finest up in this mothafucker tonight They just came from war They wanna let you know a little something about where they come from "The-the Bridge" "Queensbridge" "The-the Bridge" "The-the Bridge" "Queensbridge" "The-the Bridge" "The-the Bridge" "Queensbridge" "The-the Bridge" "The-the Bridge" "Queensbridge" [MC Shan] You love to hear the story, again and again About a rap dynasty that just won't end The monument, still in your face Niggas played out, Shan still in the place Hip hop was set out in the dark The Bridge was never Over, we left our mark The jam is dedicated to you and your boys I brought my Queensbridge thugs to kill that noise [Havoc] If you was an out-of-towner, had to know somebody wit strength You know the drill, shit was real, fuck around, got killed You know the Hill breed of thugs, death to those that squeal Squeezin them slugs, one love to thugs that died in the field So many names don't got time to spit em, but through my rhymes they livin We the Bridge through tracks I'm givin Never lose sight, 41st Side's my life The 40th Side of life, dunn we keepin it tight [Cormega] Yo it ain't just the music Group aspirations or ghetto illustions It's the product, east side, and all the beautiful children And unleashed dreams comin through each building If you sleep, you better wake up as you see Mega more mature, I'm on a record wit Nature Mind on my paper, nine in my waist There's no denyin the greatness Queensbridge, never try to disgrace it [Millennium Thug] Aiyyo the Queensbridge associations breeds similarity Bricked up, chipped off rocked out salaries Pull out long guns, pop out casualities It's like I gotta see a thug nigga ill as me The Ill Will in me, I rep that willingly Step back enemies, death tracks feelin me Six blocks, losin my mind Runnin from D's These P's got me usin my nine, I pop off [Nature] Y'all know the place where stars is from Every night it sparks off and the crowds'll run We leave chicks strippin over strollers (Slippin Sova) In Queens, you be the victim till you get to know us Your hood's bogus, my hood be keepin it crunk So much be jumpin off I ain't sleep in a month Y'all can play the front line, I be deep in the cut Drive through, you can't peep it enough You in the Bridge nigga [Capone] You must pay homage to my projects We thorough to the end Only jail and death divide us From rap to the crack suppliers Out-of-towners get knocked off We regualte blocks laws I had the hood like Watts flooded wit cop force QB to the cracks in the pavement Mister Everything that ? pool for stacks in a basement Niggas understand the drama we bring The legacy, dynasty upholding the ring where QB is king, what! [Tragedy] Yo for you I take a fifth to the head till I url Boomerang dunn, QB bust they gun Keep them PC niggas on the run, one Mahti specialist, 2-5 the nemesis The last verse, "T.O.N.Y." remember this Resurrect through the birth of my seed, crime genetic You synthetic, your gangsta's cosmetic I move niggas telekinetic, who wanna set it [Prodigy] Yo yo move... Me and my dogs comin through We the grain, go against us you feel pain Get ranked on, we beat niggas numb These niggas is dumb, you can't resist my dunns 2001 we still thump, the fuck happened to ya'll? We like that snowball, goin downhill We get large, you get bullets lodged In your jaw, your ribs, your arms We party hard, at the bar Buyin bottles of overpriced styles and Remy Mar The Head Niggas In Charge We number one, QB there's no competition Infamous Records, Bars and Hooks listen Littles, Noyd, and Mega We independent, dunn we Infamous Mobbin G.O.D., Nitty and Twin in The Ill Will Bravehearts, L.E.S. millennium [Nas] Yo blow faces, fo-fo blazes, no one's safe This music mogul rollin wit a hundred soldiers Gangstas we postal Oh you didn't, wanna know whose life Was Written The life I'm livin The ice the women The kites that sendin to lifeless biddin The streets to prison I touch you then buck you Heats be spittin La-ser, AR fifteen doors come down Jaws is broke, your whole crew is coffin bound Your hoe, your man, lieutenant, your boss get found This dough I got, I spend it and toss around New York it's time we flip it, where you from? Ladies, it's time we flip it, where you from? Now tell me who was the true thugs in videos first? Who had the projects behind us, who bit it the worst? We from the largest project, yo the biggest on earth Queensbridge know they history, left y'all cursed cuz [Chorus] *repeat to fade* Keep on rockin the Bridge and keep rockin If the beats stop rockin, the Bridge'll keep rockin (Prodigy): The most violent of the violent-lest crimes we give life to If these QueensBridge kids don't like you We bring drama of the worst kind of enemies Your first time would be your last earth memories It's only your own fault I gave you fair warning..beware.. Of killa kids who don't care Unaware fools who be dealt with in time It ain't a mystery Hop on the words and rhyme In nineteeth hundred and ninety square All shook niggaz is supposed to have fear Trying to get a piece of this pie we don't share Prepare for the worst cuz I been there Try tah, keep a positive mind and walk a straight line don't work So niggaz is forced to do dirt And God made .... So this jerk wouldn't hurt If I listen to the lessons and the rules I learnt On the streets for nineteenth years And not leaving My first priority is to reach twenty one breathing Forever beef Nobody would ever be even So I grab the heat before breathing Lost in this foul mind state I can't keep straight thinking But I keep my eyes on the earth without blinking It's hard to be a man in this land of the venom Any man try to front He get slugs in him Because.. (Chorus / Prodigy): He ain't a crook son..son, he just shook one..shook one... We live the life that of diamonds and guns And numerous ways that we choose to earn funds..earn funds... Some niggaz get shot, locked down and turned nuns Cowardly hearts send straight up shook ones..shook ones... He ain't a crook son, he just a shook one..shook one... (Havoc): For every rhyme I write Is 25 to life To all my peoples in the Bridge Know what I'm talking 'bout, right Ain't no time for hesitation That only leads to incarceration You don't know me, there's no relation Cuz Queens niggas don't play I don't got time for the he say, she say I'm bigga than dat Claiming that you packing gats But you scared to get locked Once you get upon the Island Change your ways and stop Thirteen years in the projects, my hard times of living Wake up in the morning Thank God I'm still living Sometimes I wonder, do I deserve to live? Or I am going to hell for all the shit I did No time to dwell on that Cuz my brain reacts Front if you want nigga Lay on ya back I don't fake jax Kid, you know I bring it to ya live Stay in a child's place, kid you outta line Criminal mind thirsty for recognition mission I'm strictly sipping E&J like got my mind flipping I'm buggin diggin ..... over hustling Get that loot kid You know my motherfucking function Cause as long as I'm alive I'ma live illegal And once I get it I'ma put it on my people React quick to lyrics Like macs I hit... Your dome up When I roll up, don't get caught sleepin' 'Cause I'm creepin' ... ...You just a shook one (Chorus / Prodigy): We live the life that of diamonds and guns And numerous ways that we choose to earn funds Some niggaz get shot, locked down and turned nuns Cowardly hearts send straight up shook ones..shook ones... He ain't a crook son, he just a shook one..shook one... We live the life that of diamonds and guns And numerous ways that we choose to earn funds Some niggaz get shot, locked down and turned nuns Cowardly hearts send straight up shook ones..shook ones... He ain't a crook son..crook son, he just a shook one..shook one... Yeah... Verse 1: Nas Got out the airport, the Mobb pick me up in the truck Jury junkie like fuck, I ain't scared to get stuck So what's the deal poppy? You heard the feds almost got me I had the Cuban posse all up in my room and lobby Negotiatin like an Illuminati network Don't catch a body experts and retrospect till the foul connect When I lost but back then was my fault Now it's time to floss Eye For An Eye what's mine is yours I need a suite with the flowers complentary at Trump Towers Sit at the table we can build for hours on gettin riches, a cinch, take a glimpse The World Is Yours written all over the blimps Here's a toast to my foes, it's like a whole new beginning From ??? and prima, loads of women rockin linen I got a plan to blow the Hiroshima, Japan Movin niggas out tha hood and just divide em with fam Ay yo, the bitches like G Money said to us, man about the dick like the horse with the cowboy brand Chorus 1: Give it up fast, quick and not slow Not goin to the tables if it's not about dough Son you know Mobb Deep is runnin this shit QBC, nigga grab your click Verse 2: Havoc, Big Noyd, Prodigy Yeah son, I'm feelin it Opposition want me dead, concealin shit Four gats got me livin, kid Rushin thru my pyramid You secondary, go against the grain then you adversary Had to bury niggas on my side, that snitch ran his mouth like a bitch now he's layin in a ditch Daily dug for himself On his grave I had to piss Scud missile never miss you Hit you, scratch you off, we left Jim Star rip thru You metal deeper, you ain't havin it me either It's drama, ain't got time for no breathers Rapper Noyd make these niggas into believers Huh, huh Hey Noyd, what up this cat right here, man Word up! The tough guy strong me I guess he got plans to ruin me He want ta do me slowly but surely I beat his fast ass a bit early Grabbed the biased raid, the shit was curly Put the drome to his dome Let him know it's never early You can slide before I snatch the heat from his side Saw the devil in disguise by the look in his eyes He was surprised I snatched him up Regulated his gat and backed him up Stepped to the side, P blast em up Hey yo, cannons are rough You got strucked up, ya strokes slit So rapper nigga playin thug try to pro shit (Yo, kill that nigga, man!) All I remember was I shot for his throat G You see big guns and 3-D is haunting It gets deep, fuckin with these Chi-nese Thai weed burnin my hip from hot gats Burnin my lips from roach clips Catch me on 40th and Bootlegger in the a.m. These *?R-tape meridiam?* cats, insomniacs Four in the mornin we throwin back some Cognac juice Lettin gats loose in the blue van blitz-thru These kids too couldn't find the pistol Ay yo, I got the Lexus, holdin my necklace I'm bent off some next shit Gasoline wick, a kerosene twist Stumblin, place of my gun right, it's slipped down its calibre Lookin for chicks that he can stab now Numbed up for my fiery cup I held juice of sin's nectar Saints found they youth Mega-action, bitches all around ready to fuck Big asses, you bought all the shit, pressin ya luck My pipe games like a night train top speed thru ya warm piece ??? to say the least Chorus 2: Give up the pussy fast, quick and not slow Not goin to the cell if it ain't a freak show Said you know Mobb Deep is plannin this shit QBC, niggas grab their click Chorus 1 Outro: Prodigy (And that's how it go) And that's it nigga (If it ain't a freak show) It ain't a freak show Y'knowhutI'msayin? (Don't give up, don't give up, don't give up) Don't go (Y'know the deal) Rapper Noyd, rapper P, Nas, Havoc To the exit, niggas we out! What up! (The Infamous) It's over baby (Fuck 9-6 to 9-7) Tell the rest of the crew Some of that 151 Son (yeah some of that bogus) ("What you got in the trunk?") Aight, aiyyo Son, yo yo You think that motherfuckin nigga's out there right now Son? (Word, what he doin out here?) Son we got drama with that nigga Be tryin to fuckin front last week (What, that kid out there? Yo, I seen that nigga earlier knahmsayin?) Nah fuck that, go, go open the window real quick Son Open that fuckin window (You gonna take him from the window nigga?) Yo hold up That, there go, that's that nigga right there Son? Right next to the basketball court? (Yeah yeah, that's the one) Oh shit! C'mere c'mere c'mere c'mere, turn the lights out (I got somethin too Son, that's how we do) Turn the lights out, c'mon through *sounds of clips and an automatic being cocked* (Back up, back up, they lookin) Aiyyo Son, I'ma hit that nigga right now Son Word to mom I'ma hit him out the window Son *Twilight Zone in the background* (Yo you BUGGIN Son!) Heh nhah chill 'Zo, fuck that I'ma hit that nigga right out the motherfuckin window (Ga head Son, go head man!) Hold up (You want somebody go bust him!) Nah fuck that I'ma hit this nigga out the window Son (Ga head man!) Shit shit shit don't blow it up, duck down (Yo let me do it man, let me do it, go head) *two shots, eighteen shots, seven shots* Yeah yeah yeah, yeah nigga, yeah! Yeah! (gimme gimme gimme gimme) *two shots* Fucker! (What?) [Chorus: repeat 2X] (Yo it's the) G.O.D., Father Pt. III QBC, sip lime Bacardi Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring Drama we bring, yeah/yo that's a small thing [Verse One: Prodigy] Awright now, pay attention to the crime rhyme Houdini P Keepin you niggaz in perspective Mobb, representative, call me the specialist Professional, professor at this rap science Up in the labratory, here's why your small rhyme bore me Store bought rap ain't shit, my category is that of an insane who strike back (what?) I draw first blood, it's over with, and that's that You wanna square off, forsake and slice that cat You get splashed, from back of your head, to ass crack Surgical signs to the end, with iron map Which bring, apocalypse to this game called rap Not a game but quite serious and yo in fact You'll be runnin for dear life so far you might fall off the map Fuckin with P, you need a gat At least to have the opportunity to bust back First shot the motherfucker pack around world premier Shook individual bound from blind fear Scared to death niggaz fall to they worst fear Horror tales in braille, for vision impaired You lookin for P, well you can find him everywhere In a project near you, I'll be right there I was brought up and taught to have no fear (now) Live wire niggaz stay behind me in the rear (now) Cowardly hearts, step aside, stand clear (fear) My bloodthirsty niggaz got they eyes on you QBC, lime Bacardia, G.O.D. Father Pt. III On some hashish, to Embassy Suite, crash your party [Chorus] [Verse Two: Havoc] Yeah yo, lime Bacardi, gettin bent, crash the party Handle B-I, bringin it to anybody Physical damage, crowd control handle cannons Hittin you ripped, leave your bloodstream contamin-ed While you actin out of character, we observin Drillin em down so hard, I know we felt you comin at em Hennessee raps float like the Phantom Runnin you up out of the spot in which you standin Never second-guess a cat who hold gat Concealed, but easily revealed and fast Body castin raps to get your back snapped in half and severed, impossible pain beyond measure Sheisty living brought him to his last bread (bread) Life changed around quick to one stead (stead) Face full of fear, conquerin your ice grill (grill) Tragedies, put him to sleep like NyQuil (NyQuil) Givin a overdose of this rap potent Potentially dangerous, fatally left open for the roaches, scavengers, that's EMS Funeral homes, anticipatin your death That's the dead truth, check in the morgue, you'll find proof Enough to make you think and stop before your ship sink to the bottom, night owl leave the mark and spot him You know the routine, face up before I shot him [Chorus] - repeat 2X It's the infamous back in the house once again Livin the life that of diamonds and guns and now gems pulls gats like a basehead pulls on stems the Mobb got the bomb run out and tell a friend Drop A Gem On Em.. Verse One: Havoc Take a tire, all these fake crooks need to retire they gotcha gassed, takin back and snatch fire outcha maggot ass, Havoc represent for the Q-B-C smoke that ass like a lucie..tho I need to quit fuck it, I love it like a cloud over the projects your game Im above it its combat, gats bangers and all that you'se a small cat, whatever you on get off that I mention, nuthin but the real shit presentin the hollow tip crew 41st side convention try for? you half-steppin like a fresh tec out of the box yo niggas I'm testin (There's no question) bitch ass have you confessin like a D-T left in state of depression you under pressure, intact no doubt catcher the snitch-snatcher tookin wit asthma you casper, you yell my name thats only givin me props plus the fans that you got, wonderin whats got you hot its too not, knocked out the box and got rocked got raped on the Island, you officially got kick that thug shit, Vibe magazine on some love shit (keep it real kid, you don't know who you fuckin wit) Chorus: repeat 2X It's the Infamous back in the house once again Livin the life that of diamonds and guns and now gems pull gats like a basehead pull on stems the Mobb got the bomb run out and tell a friend Drop A Gem On Em Verse Two: Prodigy Yeah likewise, Im tired of rap guys whose faggots pure shuteye, and swole up your whole outside I baptize, niggas get wet, put up your backside your claptized and set straight, put on your head straight watch out for, these upstate cats be leary of you yeddy niggas wit gats plus the walls on they backs Rikers Island flashback of the house you got scuffed it in you would think you gettin your head shot was enough but then Now you wanna got at my team, you must of been drunk when you wrote that shit too bad you had to did it to your own self my rebellion, I retaliate, I had the whole New York state aimin at your face at the gate, bottom line of top soon as you came through shot through, don't even know the half of my crew I got a hundred strong arm niggas ready to rock the shit clocks tick, your days are numbered in low digits you look suspicious, suspect niggas is bitches get chppoed up, Grade A meat, somethin delicious and laced back up, 2 G's, one for stitches then reconstruct your face and learn how to speak again my Mobb's like a bunch of wild Puerto Ricans wit bangers the size of African spears it's warfare in the arena, you turn arenas into house of horrors its terrodome, when you see my click you need to run behind shit you gotta gat you betta find it and use that shit think fast and get reminded of robberies in Manhattan you knew what happened 60 g's and one for gun clappin Who Shot Ya? You'd probably scream louder than an opera New York gotcha, now you wanna use my mob as a crutch what makes you think you cant get bucked again Once again, back in the house once again live the life that of diamonds and guns and now gems pull gats like a basehead pull on stems the Mobb got the bomb run out and tell a friend Its the Infamous.. Hey yo Queen's get the Money long time no cash I'm caught up in the hustle when the guns go blast the fool retaliated so I had to think fast pull out my heat first, he pull out his heat last Now who the fuck you think is livin' to this day? I'm tryin' to tell these young niggas crime don't pay they looked at me and said "Queen's niggas don't play. Do your thing I'll do mine kid stay outta my way". It's type hard tryna survive in New York state can't stop till I'm eatin' off a platinum plate po po comes around and tries to relocate me lock me up for ever but they can't deflate me 'cause havin' cash is highly addictive especially when you're used to havin' money to live with I thought step back look at my life as a whole Ain't no love it seems the devil done stole my soul I'm out for delfia, selfia, P's not helpin' ya I'm tryna get this Lexus up, and plus a cellular yo Big Noyd! (What up cuzin'?) I can't cope With all these crab niggas tryna shorten my rope. Yo it's the r - a double p e - r, n - o - y - d Niggas can't fuck with me comin' straight outta QB pushin' an Infiniti you ask can I rip it constantly? Mentally? Definitely, to the death of me come and test me trust me, nigga couldn't touch me if he snuff me so bust me, you're gonna have to, 'cause I'ma blast you my lyrical like a miracle, ill spiritual I'm born wit' it I'm gettin' on wit' it an' I'ma have it 'til I'm fuckin' dead and gone wit' it 'cause I'm a what? Composer of hardcore a lyrical destructor don't make me buck ya, cause I'm a wild muthafucka you know my flow, you know my stilo even pack my gat when I go to see my PO Jump out my hooptie pass my gat and my lucci to my shorty in case my PO try to troop me to the island and if I start wildin' flippin' on niggas walkin' around wit' da nice gold medallions but she didn't violate me, so I escaped see back to Queen's pumpin' the fiends makin' more Cream know what I mean? I'm a natural born hustler won't try to cut ya, pull out my 4 4 and bust ya. Yo babe no time for fakin' jacks Cuz niggas who fake jacks get laid on their backs the streets is real can't roll without steel I feel how I feel 'cause I was born to kill do what I gotta, to eat a decent meal brothers is starvin', don't try to find a job son it's all about robbin' so don't be alarmed when we come through, 'cause we supposed to if you opposed to get your face blown dude, off the map cause I react, attack a brother wasn't blessed with wealth so I act like that drug dealin' I'm frontin on the world once I start 4-wheelin' Cause back on the 41st side we do a ride Sippin E & J, gettin' bent all night Yo, who dat? I never seen him in my whole life Step to his business 'cause it's only right po po ain't around so I grab my pound Money retaliated so I hit the ground my life is on the line gotta hold my projects down can't see myself gettin' bodied by a clown-ass nigga That ain't even from my town hit him up in the chest and now he's layin' me down dead and up from under the benches I started hearin' sirens I stop firin' He cut ass like a diamond Jetted to the cribpiece, what a relief stashed the heat then proceeded to peep out the window call my son, "yo son we got beef but no question Money had a problem so I solved him". I got my mind on the stick-up now it's time to get paid thinkin' of ways to take loot already made there's crime in the air, ain't no time to be afraid gimme yours and get laid give up the goods and get sprayed. I got lots of love, for my crew that is no love for them other crews and rival kids all them out-a-town niggas know what time it is and if they don't they need to buy a watch word up caught up in the cross-fire get theyself hurt while I be sippin' gin straight in a plastic cup on a park bench on 12th st., my whole crew's famous you tried to bust your gat and keep it real but you nameless first of all slow down, you on the wrong route let me put you on your feet and show you what's it all about the street life ain't nuttin' to play with no jokes no games kid for years I been doin' the same shit just drinkin' liquor, doin' bids extortin' crack heads and stickin' up the stick-up kids |
Please visit this ad sponsor to help support the website! Fabolous :: Real Talk :: Desert Storm/Atlantic as reviewed by Steve 'Flash' Juon One of the hottest things about the new Fabolous album "Real Talk" may be the "Exodus" intro. Biblically speaking the chapter of Exodus comes after Genesis, but literally speaking an exodus is a mass departure of people on a great journey. You can interpret the meaning both ways - Fabolous believes he's what comes next, and believes he can take you on a trip with his words. Ironically though he's not the one who opens the journey on "Exodus," but rather a spoken word poet named Black Ice whose style and voice are reminiscent of Saul Williams in all the right ways: "See there's no money in good health, so they need you to be sick wit it Ill content and delivery, niggaz this nation thrives off misery Nigga so if you ain't tryin to let your hard times increase my wealth Nigga keep that progressive shit to yourself This, is the business of buying souls And we only fuck with those who trying to sell 'em You see they may see me as an adversary cause they know I'm trying to tell 'em about the forest of artists who grow - only to meet industry axes How they take a nigga dreams and write 'em off in they taxes Contracts is confusing, but don't worry, they'll appoint a lawyer for you Whore you, loan you funds to fuck yo' soul Make you pay it all back and still maintain control of yo' stroll yo' tracks, and yo' hot ass slow-flow They'll keep you lookin good and all that but no dough You see when they get a bitch, they GOT a bitch" Black Ice's "Exodus" ranks among the most provocative rap album intros of all time, and provocative as in THOUGHT PROVOKING. Those who think the music industry is an easy ticket to riches and a glamorous life would do well to heed his words. It's funny though how Fabolous may epitomize some of the very ills of this business. One occasionally catches a glimpse that Fabolous MAY be more than the bling bling'n Moet drinking MC he appears to be, but more often than not his music is as pop as a sugary soda. There's nothing wrong with a sweet drink every now and then, but if that's all you ever swill you end up with a mouth full of cavities and a root canal or two (and on that I speak from painful personal experience). On the other hand you can't exactly shove milk in someone's face and force them to drink it. Life is about striking a balance between bad and good, materialism and spiritualism, the harmony of yin and yang. One doesn't even need to expect Fabolous to provide the balance himself. After a can of his fizzy pop music you can find your own nourishment from other hip-hop artists and keep things all in check. First though, one needs to have the stomach to swallow seventy-five minutes of Fabolous "Real Talk." If you're going to make the mixture sweet, there's no sense in going halfway. Fabolous might seem to offer some Florida concentrate from time to time, but for the most part he's unadulterated fountain drink. The flavor all depends on how evenly the syrup and carbonation are mixed with the water before it comes out the tap. To provide flavor the right amount of swwet beats must be applied from the right producers for each serving. You can find the Neptunes making things tasty on "Tit 4 Tat" or the super smooth "Young & Sexy": "I'm so VIP, and Notorious for doing it B.I.G. - girrrl You ain't gotta see ID, I'm a rich young man Clean button up wit the rich young pants Out of you young ladies, which one can - do it to the beat y'all Young niggaz get funny, just to get a name So you know I came with the heat y'all!" Or you can taste a sweet dark flavor to the Just Blaze sounds of "It's Alright" or "Breathe": "Yo these niggaz can't breathe when I come through, hum too Some shoes, gotta be 20 man It's not even funny they can't BREATHE The choke holds too tight The left looks too right You know what? You right These bitches can't BREATHE" Or you can even dip into some kosher delicacies from the self described "Tuff Jew" Scott Storch on "Round & Round" or "Ghetto": "There's some chicks wit boyfriends that are uptight now Cause they know the big 'dog' had the 'pups' like wow I'm stuck in my city ways Heading over seas wit a zip of New York City's haze You rats can keep runnin through your city's maze Until you get sprayed with the pesticide I know you in that hole, you best to hide Like the rest who tried, who went and testified" There's plenty of good taste to go around though, from Hotrunner's pounding title track to the Flame Throwers using Grover Washington Jr.'s "I Can't Help It" as the backdrop for "Baby," to my personal favorite "smooth groove" of the whole album - J.R.'s work on "Can You Hear Me": "But you kept a closed nose when it came to those hoes And I'm your nigga so I tried to smell 'em wrong for ya Wasn't there to take the fo'-fo' loss for ya But if you hear me, I dedicate this song for ya He was setup in a stick up by a girl he used to pick up on the upper west side, I used to help him chop a brick up They found him in his pickup, pants down and dick up Leanin - with one in his head and one in his chest One of the best at this husslin' shit But his downfall was that he put his trust in a bitch and it's fucked up" The latter shows the most surprising thing about this album. Fabolous' smooth monotone flow already provided a uniform measure of carbonation, but he also added just the right bit of vitamin maturity to his rap in places to make his "Real Talk" have a carbonated kick. I'm used to finding my own antidote to how excessive Fab's fructose can be, but in this case the hard truths he occasionally lets slide into his fabulous life actually make "Real Talk" that much more refreshing. I'm not yet prepared to say Fabolous is DA TRUTH or that his rhyme writing has put him into echelons anywhere near the all-time greats, but he's come a long way since his "Ghetto Fabolous" days. You may find "Real Talk" a refreshing change of pace too. Music Vibes: 7.5 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 7.5 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 7.5 of 10 Originally posted: November 9, 2004 Ghostface Killah :: Fishscale Def Jam Author: Steve 'Flash' Juon Ghostface Killah is an institution unto himself. While the Wu-Tang Clan has suffered a general decline over the years, for reasons that are their own fault (poor solo albums, lack of unity) and reasons that aren't (Ol' Dirty's untimely demise), Ghost has stayed immensely popular. Any year that Wu affiliated albums are released, the Ghost one tends to be the most anticipated (only GZA even comes close). What's his secret? Ghost is simply a great rapper, hands down. His voice is very emotional and descriptive, his lyrics are superbly visual narratives on the level of Rakim or G. Rap, and his personality shines through on almost every track. In all fairness the Wu needs Ghostface far more at this point than he needs them, because if nobody else holds up the banner for the crew, he always comes through to carry the weight. "Fishscale" is no exception to this trend, as Ghost continues his tradition of being the Wu's most consistant soloist. There are a few other Wu affiliates to be found on the album - Raekwon on "Kilo," a bunch of Clan fam on "9 Milli Bros" and such, but there's little doubt this is Ghost's showcase and that he owns it. The lead single "Back Like That" featuring Ne-Yo doesn't come in until track 13, but for the purposes of this review skip to it right now if you're listening on your Discman or iPod. Pay attention to the subtle background snaps, the smooth harmonizing, the beautiful piano keys and the strong chorus breakdowns and thank Xtreme for producing a beautiful track. Then peep the Ghost lyrics closely and realize that combining with Xtreme on this shit results in true cinematic drama. "Aiyyo, I thought we was iller than that, all them kisses And love yous, when Jake came, you hid my packs It was time a brother went to war, vests banged up Stainin in the kitchen, yo, holdin a four Sweatin and breathin, bounced out of town for a weekend Heard you had homey in the passenger seating Honey, look, I'm a monster don, I do monster things That's why I put your ass under my arm Messing with him can bring bodily harm And where you gonna hide in the streets when the body is gone If it's one thing I learned that, never trust a female On no scale, you just confirmed that Bounce to your momma house, pack your shit I don't care if you crying, youse a ruthless chick" Dizamn, shawty played Ghost foul! That's Ghostface for you - he makes beautiful songs about ugly incidents. On "The Champ" he comes with straight kingpin shit over a fantastic Just Blaze beat while telling foes "you're burnin up like David Koresh." The late great J Dilla blesses Ghost on "Whip You with a Strap" on a track that comes off like the long lost sequel to "All That I Got is You," and indeed Ghost gets his butt whipped by momma and raps vividly about being a bad little kid. Ken Lewis comes correct on "Big Girl" with some smooth old school soul, a popular refrain on Ghostface albums. For anybody who misunderstood Ghost as a misogynist over the years, this song is a whole new perspective: "Word life, put you to school when the clubs'll stop College girl, pay for your books at 200 a pop And all I ask in life's for you to be careful Stay focused, take care of your health Have kids and marry a prince Good luck and happiness And no longer shut yourself in, taste the pain, the sorrow The sun'll shine and still come out tomorrow" The only major complaint I have about "Fishscale" after listening to it are that there are just too damn many skits. This isn't always a bad thing, especially if they're as clever and closely connected to the album's theme as they were on "Ironman," but these don't seem to enhance or detract from the presentation - they're just there. Otherwise "Fishscale" falls right into line as another classic album from the man who has consistantly brought heat for 10 years and 2 different labels. Music Vibes: 8 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 9 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 8.5 of 10 Originally posted: March 28, 2006 Please visit this ad sponsor to help support the website! G-Unit :: Beg for Mercy :: G-Unit/Interscope as reviewed by Steve 'Flash' Juon It's a testament to the cultural bond of hip-hop that rappers who "get on" with major deals feel obliged to make those opportunities available for others using whatever power and influence they have. EPMD opened the door for Redman. Digital Underground cleared the way for 2Pac. Ice Cube gave us Mack 10. And in recent history, Eminem kicked the doors open for 50 Cent. While it's true that 50 was already a known name in hip-hop (famous AND infamously) he wasn't getting any breaks after his falling out with Columbia, not to mention his near-fatal shooting, put a black mark next to his name with every major as "dangerous" and "damaged goods" to boot. Eminem took a chance by signing him to a big deal on Shady Records though, and the rest is history. Now 50 is making room in the crowded hip-hop market for some artists he feels deserve that same shot. They go by the names of Lloyd Banks, Young Buck, and Tony Yayo - collectively with 50 Cent known as the G-G-G-G-Unit! 50 has gone out of his way to not only mention the crew at every opportunity, but to make it known that they're ANNOINTED - his chosen group to bring heat to the rap game. With the foreboding title "Beg for Mercy," the G-Unit crew attempts even before you purchase the album to put out a message: other rappers better run and hide, cause the next generation has arrived. One advantage to rolling with the hottest rapper of the minute in the hip-hop scene is that you get access to producers who otherwise might not give some up-and-comer MC's the time of day. The proof in the pudding starts right in the flavor of the introductory "G-Unit" track, given an ominously heavy beat by producer extrordinaire Hi-Tek. As if that wasn't enough, Dr. Dre and Scott Storch work together on the next joint "Poppin' Them Thangs" - a smooth mix of Storch's cool keyboards and Dre's hot G-Funk sound. There's more heat to be found throughout: "I'm So Hood" by DJ Twinz, the blaxploitative "Footprints" by Nottz, Hi-Tek again on "Eye for Eye," No I.D. on the sultry "Smile," and even Sam Sneed on the pimped out Tony Yayo album closer "I Smell Pussy": "When I first met her, I did anything to get her Paid all her bills and filled her 'frigerator Reminiscing on late nights when I tried to lay up But couldn't get off cause your baby would stay up She even crashed the whip tryin to switch in the third lane That's when I realized this bitch was a bird brain A pigeon writin her baby pops in the box in the prison Sing-Sing is where he been She in the Gucci tights and Fendi high heels Baby wipes and cans of Enfamil Motorbikes and grams of fish scale So 9 to 5 niggaz was no frills Turning young niggaz with principals to old men with debts And all the prank calls was death threats That bitch got the best sex, all across the globe And the bitch head game was out of control" Some of the lesser known producers on "Beg for Mercy" are packing just as much heat as the all-stars though. Thayod Ausar of Black Tantra makes a name for himself with the grimy melody, eerie harmonized singing, and deep bass hits of "My Buddy" - appropriate for a song where G-Unit's best friends are gats. You "Betta Ask Somebody" about the Fusion Unlimited beat, because it sounds like some straight Dr. Dre "Chronic" shit. And let's give it up to the the 7th EMP for sample "Brandenburg Concerto #1 in F Major (Allego Moderato) by Johann Sebastian Bach on "Salute U." Freshest of all though might be Red Spyda's work on "Wanna Get to Know You," which borrows successfully from Marvin Gaye to create the closest thing a gun-toting crew like G-Unit might ever get to late night urban contemporary: 50 Cent: "Don't know what fuck me up more, watchin her lick her lips Or watchin her walk, she hypnotized me with her hips man I sweet talk her if she like Cause all she really want is a nigga to treat her right, right? Look, I'm legit now, I used to break laws Now you can reap the benefits of world tours Big house, big Benz, girl it's yours Mink coats, Italian shoes, stones with no flaws You ain't got ta look like a model for me to adore you All you got is love me and be loyal Don't indulge in my past, fuck what happened before you Cause to me some bunny's gon' hate you that never saw you C'mere, let me touch on you, I let you touch on me Put my tongue on you, you put your tongue on me Let me ride on you and you can ride on We can do it all the night, we can have a baller night" The members of the crew balance each other out nicely. Tony Yayo has the gravelly voice, but he's a little higher pitched than the slippery slurry 50. Lloyd Banks is the sly one of the bunch, and Young Buck has the deep deep dirty dirty voice which betray his Southern roots but make him the ideal counterpart to this crew. In fact, he stands out so much on songs like "Stunt 101" it may not be long before he's working on a solo album of his own: "Chain so icy, you don't have to like me In a throwback jersey, with the throwback Nikes I know you probably seen me with Cash Money from back in the days The only thing changed is the numbers on the Range I bought me an old school and blew out the brains The 'Roc the Mic' tour, I threw off my chain My Sprewell's spinnin man, I'm doin my thang And whodi now in trouble now that you in the game Come on now, we all know gold is gettin old The ice in my teeth keep the Cristal cold G-Unit homey, actin like y'all don't know Look, I can't even walk through the mall no mo' I just pull up, get out, and get all the hoes They never seen doors lift up on a car before Don't be mad at me dog, that's all I know Is how to show these Fugazis how it's 'posed to go" Weak moments are for the most part few and far between, but few debut albums are ever perfect and "Beg for Mercy" is no exception. "Groupie Love" is remarkably average, and a bit distasteful in it's casual misogyny. "Baby U Got" is a reminder that 50 should only sing in short bursts, and the title track is a dead-ringer for 50's "Back Down" from "Get Rich or Die Tryin'." On the whole though these gangsters show a strong presence in the rap game, in part due to their volume of mixtape work with 50 but also undoubtedly due to their hunger and desire to take advantage of the opportunity they got. While new groups typically don't outshine their leader, the membership of G-Unit may indeed have lesser rappers begging for mercy, both in talent and chart position. They'll be around for a while. Music Vibes: 8 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 7 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 7.5 of 10 Originally posted: November 18, 2003 |
Master P :: Good Side Bad Side :: The New No Limit/Koch Records as reviewed by Steve 'Flash' Juon The "Good Side" is 35 minutes long, plus one second. The "Bad Side" is 40 minutes long, plus 45 seconds. Grand total? 75 minutes, 46 seconds. This might normally be trivial information to impart at a review's start, but in this case it proves that the "double disc" CD release has become more hype than substance. Given that a normal CD release can top out at 74 minutes without using any gimmicks or tricks, all Master P needed to do was cut just one "Commercial" skit to meet the limit. How about #4? It's nearly two minutes long, and it's a complete waste of space on the "Bad Side" disc. It really doesn't make sense when you consider it would have been cheaper for P to press a one disc album; not to mention a double disc release requires the special flip up tray to hold them in a standard sized CD case. The fact this album is split into two CD's is both silly and pointless. In the end all gimmicks play second fiddle to the actual content of the music. It makes no difference whether P packages it as one disc or two, throws in a free DVD, a platinum edition cover, and a free ticket in every 1000th package to tour his No Limit mansion. Who cares? P simply has to uphold the standard he set on his past hits. Hits that span over a decade in hip-hop, from "Bout It Bout It" to "Make Em Say Ugh" to "Step to Dis" to "Bout Dat" and "Ooohhhwee" among others. Part of P's success was his supporting cast though, and over the years of self-proclaimed war he's lost a lot of his "No Limit Soldiers" to defection (Mystikal), capture by the enemy (his brother C-Murder is doing a prison bid), or they were simply hired mercenaries whose contracts expired (Snoop Dogg). Perhaps that's why these days Master P calls his record label "The New No Limit" - a smaller and leaner army, but possibly more dangerous and lethal as a result. Suddenly a double disc makes more sense - after a three year hiatus, it's P's way of declaring WAR on the industry. One thing you can't really fault P on is consistancy. Depending on your point of view, that means P is either "staying true" to his hardcore gangster roots, or that he simply doesn't have anything better to say. In truth it's a little of both, but if you take his raps with a grain of salt it's all good. P's flow is still as gruff as ever, still long on the Southern drawl he's so well recognized for, but these days the "unghhhh" cries of ghetto pain are not to be found - for better or worse P has retired that gimmick. Master P gets off to a good start on "Act a Fool" thanks to a sick beat from Lil Jon, whose "WHAT?!" and "OAH-KAYYY!" have in fact usurped P's ghetto moan as the South's #1 rap gimmick, to the point Dave Chappelle has parodied them on his TV show. Just like the "unghhhh" though, you can't knock it if it works. P turns in a performance suitable for such a hard track: "Still posted on the block, still slangin that coke Still runnin from the cops, still lettin them bitches know Still fuckin with Jamaicans, blowin that ganjay Uptown New Orleans where them thugs gon' find me Rollin with them head bussaz, my niggaz splittin wigs A couple of fuckin G's nigga, it could get did Straight from the hood, and I represent the street Send money to the pen, still fuckin with C (OAH-KAYYY!)" It's exactly what you'd expect from P, no more or no less - a tough guy image with occasionally cartoonish threats of violence. Skipping over a skit with C-Murder on the phone with P and the incredibly short song "We All We Got" (clocking in at under 90 seconds) you come to "Who Want Some" - an Myke Diesel produced club fighting anthem that's simple but effective. He also handles "Let Em Go" featuring Curren$y, which deserves dap for using symphonic strings and strong bass drops to ominous effect. Jon comes back to cameo and produce "Who Them Boyz," with topic matter that's pretty much interchangeable for track one or track four. This one's noteable for Jon's beat, a C-Murder cameo rap recorded live from jail, and a new female rapper named Liberty who unfortunately for her sounds like a poor man's Mia X. Myke Diesel continues to impress on the somber, Tupac-esque "Why They Wanna Wish Death" featuring Afficial, the short but intense "Anything Goes", and the first disc's last track "Them Jeans." This is also the album's first single, which is no surprise given it's a light-hearted ode to big butts, something Sir Mix-A-Lot will tell you firsthand ALWAYS sells records: "I'm country, she country, we country Come closer, it's a free country Damn you cute, girl you fine Keep it right there, I wanna make you mine Don't play no games, I gotta keep it real Got the +Magic Stick+, and a gold grill Shake what you got in them jeans (them jeans) Cause thugs need love, girl you know what I mean Hold up Ellie Mae, you could work it like that? Rock the boat and let it wobble from the back!" Moving on to the self-professed "Bad Side" one finds nothing like Ice Cube's classic "Death Certificate" where each side actually had a different intent. In fact, if P intended to show that his "Bad Side" was more dangerous he achieved the opposite, because this disc is the more R&B pop-oriented of the two. It starts off with the sugary "Ghetto Honey" featuring Theresa Esclovon humming melody and crooning the hook. It's followed by the second longest track out of the entire package, "That Ain't Nothing" featuring Curren$y, Romeo and Silkk the Shocker. The latter Miller brother had been surprisingly absent to this point, but what's more disappointing is that he doesn't spit the trademark rapid fire flow that made him both impossible to understand at times and a favorite among No Limit's fan base. In fact with the repeated phrase "that ain't nothing" coming at the end of every line, the song sounds like a parody of a Juvenile track. Things quickly shift back to the pop friendly format though, with Esclovon providing vocals again on the latin-tinged "Ghetto Model." For some reason, P's flow seems to be off beat though, or perhaps the track's rhythmic claps simply weren't necessary. Things really don't get back on track for P until "Tell 'Em," another hard as nails Myke Diesel track where P talks the kind of trash his fans want and need to hear: "My momma jacked niggaz so I don't trust no chick Put the gas up in the tank before I give it to a trick I got syrup in my cup mayne straight out the freezer Pass me a blunt then throw me a heater I see a flea up in the club, hatin on a pimp Put the collar on your dog before I leave him with a limp Boz looked at me mayne said - I don't give a fuck We got the whole fuckin club sayin THROW YO' HOOD UP! I'm the only pro baller, without a contract But a nigga got mo' cheddar than Kobe & Shaq" The album rounds out with a mixture of songs that continue to evoke comparisons to Tupac ("Ride for You"), songs Lil Jon already made ("We Like Them Girlz"), songs where Master P professes his love for his family ("Thug and Get Paper" with Silkk) and closes with "If" featuring another new female rapper named Souya. It seems an odd note to end on, but then again the whole presentation seems to be schizophrenic in organziation and presentation. In the end the title is perhaps more appropriate than P intended, because his new album does have both a "Good Side" and a "Bad Side" but not due to how he labelled the discs. When P's got the right beat and the right subject matter, he's not a lyrical maestro but he does do effective gangster rap you can't hate listening to. That's the good side. The bad side is that at times this album is full of watered down tracks and half-thought out concepts. Stripped down to one disc minus some skits and lesser tracks, this album might both figuratively and literally not have a "Bad Side" at all. Music Vibes: 7 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 5 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 6 of 10 Originally posted: March 30, 2004 Master P :: Good Side Bad Side :: The New No Limit/Koch Records as reviewed by Steve 'Flash' Juon The "Good Side" is 35 minutes long, plus one second. The "Bad Side" is 40 minutes long, plus 45 seconds. Grand total? 75 minutes, 46 seconds. This might normally be trivial information to impart at a review's start, but in this case it proves that the "double disc" CD release has become more hype than substance. Given that a normal CD release can top out at 74 minutes without using any gimmicks or tricks, all Master P needed to do was cut just one "Commercial" skit to meet the limit. How about #4? It's nearly two minutes long, and it's a complete waste of space on the "Bad Side" disc. It really doesn't make sense when you consider it would have been cheaper for P to press a one disc album; not to mention a double disc release requires the special flip up tray to hold them in a standard sized CD case. The fact this album is split into two CD's is both silly and pointless. In the end all gimmicks play second fiddle to the actual content of the music. It makes no difference whether P packages it as one disc or two, throws in a free DVD, a platinum edition cover, and a free ticket in every 1000th package to tour his No Limit mansion. Who cares? P simply has to uphold the standard he set on his past hits. Hits that span over a decade in hip-hop, from "Bout It Bout It" to "Make Em Say Ugh" to "Step to Dis" to "Bout Dat" and "Ooohhhwee" among others. Part of P's success was his supporting cast though, and over the years of self-proclaimed war he's lost a lot of his "No Limit Soldiers" to defection (Mystikal), capture by the enemy (his brother C-Murder is doing a prison bid), or they were simply hired mercenaries whose contracts expired (Snoop Dogg). Perhaps that's why these days Master P calls his record label "The New No Limit" - a smaller and leaner army, but possibly more dangerous and lethal as a result. Suddenly a double disc makes more sense - after a three year hiatus, it's P's way of declaring WAR on the industry. One thing you can't really fault P on is consistancy. Depending on your point of view, that means P is either "staying true" to his hardcore gangster roots, or that he simply doesn't have anything better to say. In truth it's a little of both, but if you take his raps with a grain of salt it's all good. P's flow is still as gruff as ever, still long on the Southern drawl he's so well recognized for, but these days the "unghhhh" cries of ghetto pain are not to be found - for better or worse P has retired that gimmick. Master P gets off to a good start on "Act a Fool" thanks to a sick beat from Lil Jon, whose "WHAT?!" and "OAH-KAYYY!" have in fact usurped P's ghetto moan as the South's #1 rap gimmick, to the point Dave Chappelle has parodied them on his TV show. Just like the "unghhhh" though, you can't knock it if it works. P turns in a performance suitable for such a hard track: "Still posted on the block, still slangin that coke Still runnin from the cops, still lettin them bitches know Still fuckin with Jamaicans, blowin that ganjay Uptown New Orleans where them thugs gon' find me Rollin with them head bussaz, my niggaz splittin wigs A couple of fuckin G's nigga, it could get did Straight from the hood, and I represent the street Send money to the pen, still fuckin with C (OAH-KAYYY!)" It's exactly what you'd expect from P, no more or no less - a tough guy image with occasionally cartoonish threats of violence. Skipping over a skit with C-Murder on the phone with P and the incredibly short song "We All We Got" (clocking in at under 90 seconds) you come to "Who Want Some" - an Myke Diesel produced club fighting anthem that's simple but effective. He also handles "Let Em Go" featuring Curren$y, which deserves dap for using symphonic strings and strong bass drops to ominous effect. Jon comes back to cameo and produce "Who Them Boyz," with topic matter that's pretty much interchangeable for track one or track four. This one's noteable for Jon's beat, a C-Murder cameo rap recorded live from jail, and a new female rapper named Liberty who unfortunately for her sounds like a poor man's Mia X. Myke Diesel continues to impress on the somber, Tupac-esque "Why They Wanna Wish Death" featuring Afficial, the short but intense "Anything Goes", and the first disc's last track "Them Jeans." This is also the album's first single, which is no surprise given it's a light-hearted ode to big butts, something Sir Mix-A-Lot will tell you firsthand ALWAYS sells records: "I'm country, she country, we country Come closer, it's a free country Damn you cute, girl you fine Keep it right there, I wanna make you mine Don't play no games, I gotta keep it real Got the +Magic Stick+, and a gold grill Shake what you got in them jeans (them jeans) Cause thugs need love, girl you know what I mean Hold up Ellie Mae, you could work it like that? Rock the boat and let it wobble from the back!" Moving on to the self-professed "Bad Side" one finds nothing like Ice Cube's classic "Death Certificate" where each side actually had a different intent. In fact, if P intended to show that his "Bad Side" was more dangerous he achieved the opposite, because this disc is the more R&B pop-oriented of the two. It starts off with the sugary "Ghetto Honey" featuring Theresa Esclovon humming melody and crooning the hook. It's followed by the second longest track out of the entire package, "That Ain't Nothing" featuring Curren$y, Romeo and Silkk the Shocker. The latter Miller brother had been surprisingly absent to this point, but what's more disappointing is that he doesn't spit the trademark rapid fire flow that made him both impossible to understand at times and a favorite among No Limit's fan base. In fact with the repeated phrase "that ain't nothing" coming at the end of every line, the song sounds like a parody of a Juvenile track. Things quickly shift back to the pop friendly format though, with Esclovon providing vocals again on the latin-tinged "Ghetto Model." For some reason, P's flow seems to be off beat though, or perhaps the track's rhythmic claps simply weren't necessary. Things really don't get back on track for P until "Tell 'Em," another hard as nails Myke Diesel track where P talks the kind of trash his fans want and need to hear: "My momma jacked niggaz so I don't trust no chick Put the gas up in the tank before I give it to a trick I got syrup in my cup mayne straight out the freezer Pass me a blunt then throw me a heater I see a flea up in the club, hatin on a pimp Put the collar on your dog before I leave him with a limp Boz looked at me mayne said - I don't give a fuck We got the whole fuckin club sayin THROW YO' HOOD UP! I'm the only pro baller, without a contract But a nigga got mo' cheddar than Kobe & Shaq" The album rounds out with a mixture of songs that continue to evoke comparisons to Tupac ("Ride for You"), songs Lil Jon already made ("We Like Them Girlz"), songs where Master P professes his love for his family ("Thug and Get Paper" with Silkk) and closes with "If" featuring another new female rapper named Souya. It seems an odd note to end on, but then again the whole presentation seems to be schizophrenic in organziation and presentation. In the end the title is perhaps more appropriate than P intended, because his new album does have both a "Good Side" and a "Bad Side" but not due to how he labelled the discs. When P's got the right beat and the right subject matter, he's not a lyrical maestro but he does do effective gangster rap you can't hate listening to. That's the good side. The bad side is that at times this album is full of watered down tracks and half-thought out concepts. Stripped down to one disc minus some skits and lesser tracks, this album might both figuratively and literally not have a "Bad Side" at all. Music Vibes: 7 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 5 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 6 of 10 Originally posted: March 30, 2004 Master P :: Good Side Bad Side :: The New No Limit/Koch Records as reviewed by Steve 'Flash' Juon The "Good Side" is 35 minutes long, plus one second. The "Bad Side" is 40 minutes long, plus 45 seconds. Grand total? 75 minutes, 46 seconds. This might normally be trivial information to impart at a review's start, but in this case it proves that the "double disc" CD release has become more hype than substance. Given that a normal CD release can top out at 74 minutes without using any gimmicks or tricks, all Master P needed to do was cut just one "Commercial" skit to meet the limit. How about #4? It's nearly two minutes long, and it's a complete waste of space on the "Bad Side" disc. It really doesn't make sense when you consider it would have been cheaper for P to press a one disc album; not to mention a double disc release requires the special flip up tray to hold them in a standard sized CD case. The fact this album is split into two CD's is both silly and pointless. In the end all gimmicks play second fiddle to the actual content of the music. It makes no difference whether P packages it as one disc or two, throws in a free DVD, a platinum edition cover, and a free ticket in every 1000th package to tour his No Limit mansion. Who cares? P simply has to uphold the standard he set on his past hits. Hits that span over a decade in hip-hop, from "Bout It Bout It" to "Make Em Say Ugh" to "Step to Dis" to "Bout Dat" and "Ooohhhwee" among others. Part of P's success was his supporting cast though, and over the years of self-proclaimed war he's lost a lot of his "No Limit Soldiers" to defection (Mystikal), capture by the enemy (his brother C-Murder is doing a prison bid), or they were simply hired mercenaries whose contracts expired (Snoop Dogg). Perhaps that's why these days Master P calls his record label "The New No Limit" - a smaller and leaner army, but possibly more dangerous and lethal as a result. Suddenly a double disc makes more sense - after a three year hiatus, it's P's way of declaring WAR on the industry. One thing you can't really fault P on is consistancy. Depending on your point of view, that means P is either "staying true" to his hardcore gangster roots, or that he simply doesn't have anything better to say. In truth it's a little of both, but if you take his raps with a grain of salt it's all good. P's flow is still as gruff as ever, still long on the Southern drawl he's so well recognized for, but these days the "unghhhh" cries of ghetto pain are not to be found - for better or worse P has retired that gimmick. Master P gets off to a good start on "Act a Fool" thanks to a sick beat from Lil Jon, whose "WHAT?!" and "OAH-KAYYY!" have in fact usurped P's ghetto moan as the South's #1 rap gimmick, to the point Dave Chappelle has parodied them on his TV show. Just like the "unghhhh" though, you can't knock it if it works. P turns in a performance suitable for such a hard track: "Still posted on the block, still slangin that coke Still runnin from the cops, still lettin them bitches know Still fuckin with Jamaicans, blowin that ganjay Uptown New Orleans where them thugs gon' find me Rollin with them head bussaz, my niggaz splittin wigs A couple of fuckin G's nigga, it could get did Straight from the hood, and I represent the street Send money to the pen, still fuckin with C (OAH-KAYYY!)" It's exactly what you'd expect from P, no more or no less - a tough guy image with occasionally cartoonish threats of violence. Skipping over a skit with C-Murder on the phone with P and the incredibly short song "We All We Got" (clocking in at under 90 seconds) you come to "Who Want Some" - an Myke Diesel produced club fighting anthem that's simple but effective. He also handles "Let Em Go" featuring Curren$y, which deserves dap for using symphonic strings and strong bass drops to ominous effect. Jon comes back to cameo and produce "Who Them Boyz," with topic matter that's pretty much interchangeable for track one or track four. This one's noteable for Jon's beat, a C-Murder cameo rap recorded live from jail, and a new female rapper named Liberty who unfortunately for her sounds like a poor man's Mia X. Myke Diesel continues to impress on the somber, Tupac-esque "Why They Wanna Wish Death" featuring Afficial, the short but intense "Anything Goes", and the first disc's last track "Them Jeans." This is also the album's first single, which is no surprise given it's a light-hearted ode to big butts, something Sir Mix-A-Lot will tell you firsthand ALWAYS sells records: "I'm country, she country, we country Come closer, it's a free country Damn you cute, girl you fine Keep it right there, I wanna make you mine Don't play no games, I gotta keep it real Got the +Magic Stick+, and a gold grill Shake what you got in them jeans (them jeans) Cause thugs need love, girl you know what I mean Hold up Ellie Mae, you could work it like that? Rock the boat and let it wobble from the back!" Moving on to the self-professed "Bad Side" one finds nothing like Ice Cube's classic "Death Certificate" where each side actually had a different intent. In fact, if P intended to show that his "Bad Side" was more dangerous he achieved the opposite, because this disc is the more R&B pop-oriented of the two. It starts off with the sugary "Ghetto Honey" featuring Theresa Esclovon humming melody and crooning the hook. It's followed by the second longest track out of the entire package, "That Ain't Nothing" featuring Curren$y, Romeo and Silkk the Shocker. The latter Miller brother had been surprisingly absent to this point, but what's more disappointing is that he doesn't spit the trademark rapid fire flow that made him both impossible to understand at times and a favorite among No Limit's fan base. In fact with the repeated phrase "that ain't nothing" coming at the end of every line, the song sounds like a parody of a Juvenile track. Things quickly shift back to the pop friendly format though, with Esclovon providing vocals again on the latin-tinged "Ghetto Model." For some reason, P's flow seems to be off beat though, or perhaps the track's rhythmic claps simply weren't necessary. Things really don't get back on track for P until "Tell 'Em," another hard as nails Myke Diesel track where P talks the kind of trash his fans want and need to hear: "My momma jacked niggaz so I don't trust no chick Put the gas up in the tank before I give it to a trick I got syrup in my cup mayne straight out the freezer Pass me a blunt then throw me a heater I see a flea up in the club, hatin on a pimp Put the collar on your dog before I leave him with a limp Boz looked at me mayne said - I don't give a fuck We got the whole fuckin club sayin THROW YO' HOOD UP! I'm the only pro baller, without a contract But a nigga got mo' cheddar than Kobe & Shaq" The album rounds out with a mixture of songs that continue to evoke comparisons to Tupac ("Ride for You"), songs Lil Jon already made ("We Like Them Girlz"), songs where Master P professes his love for his family ("Thug and Get Paper" with Silkk) and closes with "If" featuring another new female rapper named Souya. It seems an odd note to end on, but then again the whole presentation seems to be schizophrenic in organziation and presentation. In the end the title is perhaps more appropriate than P intended, because his new album does have both a "Good Side" and a "Bad Side" but not due to how he labelled the discs. When P's got the right beat and the right subject matter, he's not a lyrical maestro but he does do effective gangster rap you can't hate listening to. That's the good side. The bad side is that at times this album is full of watered down tracks and half-thought out concepts. Stripped down to one disc minus some skits and lesser tracks, this album might both figuratively and literally not have a "Bad Side" at all. Music Vibes: 7 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 5 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 6 of 10 Originally posted: March 30, 2004 Master P :: Good Side Bad Side :: The New No Limit/Koch Records as reviewed by Steve 'Flash' Juon The "Good Side" is 35 minutes long, plus one second. The "Bad Side" is 40 minutes long, plus 45 seconds. Grand total? 75 minutes, 46 seconds. This might normally be trivial information to impart at a review's start, but in this case it proves that the "double disc" CD release has become more hype than substance. Given that a normal CD release can top out at 74 minutes without using any gimmicks or tricks, all Master P needed to do was cut just one "Commercial" skit to meet the limit. How about #4? It's nearly two minutes long, and it's a complete waste of space on the "Bad Side" disc. It really doesn't make sense when you consider it would have been cheaper for P to press a one disc album; not to mention a double disc release requires the special flip up tray to hold them in a standard sized CD case. The fact this album is split into two CD's is both silly and pointless. In the end all gimmicks play second fiddle to the actual content of the music. It makes no difference whether P packages it as one disc or two, throws in a free DVD, a platinum edition cover, and a free ticket in every 1000th package to tour his No Limit mansion. Who cares? P simply has to uphold the standard he set on his past hits. Hits that span over a decade in hip-hop, from "Bout It Bout It" to "Make Em Say Ugh" to "Step to Dis" to "Bout Dat" and "Ooohhhwee" among others. Part of P's success was his supporting cast though, and over the years of self-proclaimed war he's lost a lot of his "No Limit Soldiers" to defection (Mystikal), capture by the enemy (his brother C-Murder is doing a prison bid), or they were simply hired mercenaries whose contracts expired (Snoop Dogg). Perhaps that's why these days Master P calls his record label "The New No Limit" - a smaller and leaner army, but possibly more dangerous and lethal as a result. Suddenly a double disc makes more sense - after a three year hiatus, it's P's way of declaring WAR on the industry. One thing you can't really fault P on is consistancy. Depending on your point of view, that means P is either "staying true" to his hardcore gangster roots, or that he simply doesn't have anything better to say. In truth it's a little of both, but if you take his raps with a grain of salt it's all good. P's flow is still as gruff as ever, still long on the Southern drawl he's so well recognized for, but these days the "unghhhh" cries of ghetto pain are not to be found - for better or worse P has retired that gimmick. Master P gets off to a good start on "Act a Fool" thanks to a sick beat from Lil Jon, whose "WHAT?!" and "OAH-KAYYY!" have in fact usurped P's ghetto moan as the South's #1 rap gimmick, to the point Dave Chappelle has parodied them on his TV show. Just like the "unghhhh" though, you can't knock it if it works. P turns in a performance suitable for such a hard track: "Still posted on the block, still slangin that coke Still runnin from the cops, still lettin them bitches know Still fuckin with Jamaicans, blowin that ganjay Uptown New Orleans where them thugs gon' find me Rollin with them head bussaz, my niggaz splittin wigs A couple of fuckin G's nigga, it could get did Straight from the hood, and I represent the street Send money to the pen, still fuckin with C (OAH-KAYYY!)" It's exactly what you'd expect from P, no more or no less - a tough guy image with occasionally cartoonish threats of violence. Skipping over a skit with C-Murder on the phone with P and the incredibly short song "We All We Got" (clocking in at under 90 seconds) you come to "Who Want Some" - an Myke Diesel produced club fighting anthem that's simple but effective. He also handles "Let Em Go" featuring Curren$y, which deserves dap for using symphonic strings and strong bass drops to ominous effect. Jon comes back to cameo and produce "Who Them Boyz," with topic matter that's pretty much interchangeable for track one or track four. This one's noteable for Jon's beat, a C-Murder cameo rap recorded live from jail, and a new female rapper named Liberty who unfortunately for her sounds like a poor man's Mia X. Myke Diesel continues to impress on the somber, Tupac-esque "Why They Wanna Wish Death" featuring Afficial, the short but intense "Anything Goes", and the first disc's last track "Them Jeans." This is also the album's first single, which is no surprise given it's a light-hearted ode to big butts, something Sir Mix-A-Lot will tell you firsthand ALWAYS sells records: "I'm country, she country, we country Come closer, it's a free country Damn you cute, girl you fine Keep it right there, I wanna make you mine Don't play no games, I gotta keep it real Got the +Magic Stick+, and a gold grill Shake what you got in them jeans (them jeans) Cause thugs need love, girl you know what I mean Hold up Ellie Mae, you could work it like that? Rock the boat and let it wobble from the back!" Moving on to the self-professed "Bad Side" one finds nothing like Ice Cube's classic "Death Certificate" where each side actually had a different intent. In fact, if P intended to show that his "Bad Side" was more dangerous he achieved the opposite, because this disc is the more R&B pop-oriented of the two. It starts off with the sugary "Ghetto Honey" featuring Theresa Esclovon humming melody and crooning the hook. It's followed by the second longest track out of the entire package, "That Ain't Nothing" featuring Curren$y, Romeo and Silkk the Shocker. The latter Miller brother had been surprisingly absent to this point, but what's more disappointing is that he doesn't spit the trademark rapid fire flow that made him both impossible to understand at times and a favorite among No Limit's fan base. In fact with the repeated phrase "that ain't nothing" coming at the end of every line, the song sounds like a parody of a Juvenile track. Things quickly shift back to the pop friendly format though, with Esclovon providing vocals again on the latin-tinged "Ghetto Model." For some reason, P's flow seems to be off beat though, or perhaps the track's rhythmic claps simply weren't necessary. Things really don't get back on track for P until "Tell 'Em," another hard as nails Myke Diesel track where P talks the kind of trash his fans want and need to hear: "My momma jacked niggaz so I don't trust no chick Put the gas up in the tank before I give it to a trick I got syrup in my cup mayne straight out the freezer Pass me a blunt then throw me a heater I see a flea up in the club, hatin on a pimp Put the collar on your dog before I leave him with a limp Boz looked at me mayne said - I don't give a fuck We got the whole fuckin club sayin THROW YO' HOOD UP! I'm the only pro baller, without a contract But a nigga got mo' cheddar than Kobe & Shaq" The album rounds out with a mixture of songs that continue to evoke comparisons to Tupac ("Ride for You"), songs Lil Jon already made ("We Like Them Girlz"), songs where Master P professes his love for his family ("Thug and Get Paper" with Silkk) and closes with "If" featuring another new female rapper named Souya. It seems an odd note to end on, but then again the whole presentation seems to be schizophrenic in organziation and presentation. In the end the title is perhaps more appropriate than P intended, because his new album does have both a "Good Side" and a "Bad Side" but not due to how he labelled the discs. When P's got the right beat and the right subject matter, he's not a lyrical maestro but he does do effective gangster rap you can't hate listening to. That's the good side. The bad side is that at times this album is full of watered down tracks and half-thought out concepts. Stripped down to one disc minus some skits and lesser tracks, this album might both figuratively and literally not have a "Bad Side" at all. Music Vibes: 7 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 5 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 6 of 10 Originally posted: March 30, 2004 Master P :: Good Side Bad Side :: The New No Limit/Koch Records as reviewed by Steve 'Flash' Juon The "Good Side" is 35 minutes long, plus one second. The "Bad Side" is 40 minutes long, plus 45 seconds. Grand total? 75 minutes, 46 seconds. This might normally be trivial information to impart at a review's start, but in this case it proves that the "double disc" CD release has become more hype than substance. Given that a normal CD release can top out at 74 minutes without using any gimmicks or tricks, all Master P needed to do was cut just one "Commercial" skit to meet the limit. How about #4? It's nearly two minutes long, and it's a complete waste of space on the "Bad Side" disc. It really doesn't make sense when you consider it would have been cheaper for P to press a one disc album; not to mention a double disc release requires the special flip up tray to hold them in a standard sized CD case. The fact this album is split into two CD's is both silly and pointless. In the end all gimmicks play second fiddle to the actual content of the music. It makes no difference whether P packages it as one disc or two, throws in a free DVD, a platinum edition cover, and a free ticket in every 1000th package to tour his No Limit mansion. Who cares? P simply has to uphold the standard he set on his past hits. Hits that span over a decade in hip-hop, from "Bout It Bout It" to "Make Em Say Ugh" to "Step to Dis" to "Bout Dat" and "Ooohhhwee" among others. Part of P's success was his supporting cast though, and over the years of self-proclaimed war he's lost a lot of his "No Limit Soldiers" to defection (Mystikal), capture by the enemy (his brother C-Murder is doing a prison bid), or they were simply hired mercenaries whose contracts expired (Snoop Dogg). Perhaps that's why these days Master P calls his record label "The New No Limit" - a smaller and leaner army, but possibly more dangerous and lethal as a result. Suddenly a double disc makes more sense - after a three year hiatus, it's P's way of declaring WAR on the industry. One thing you can't really fault P on is consistancy. Depending on your point of view, that means P is either "staying true" to his hardcore gangster roots, or that he simply doesn't have anything better to say. In truth it's a little of both, but if you take his raps with a grain of salt it's all good. P's flow is still as gruff as ever, still long on the Southern drawl he's so well recognized for, but these days the "unghhhh" cries of ghetto pain are not to be found - for better or worse P has retired that gimmick. Master P gets off to a good start on "Act a Fool" thanks to a sick beat from Lil Jon, whose "WHAT?!" and "OAH-KAYYY!" have in fact usurped P's ghetto moan as the South's #1 rap gimmick, to the point Dave Chappelle has parodied them on his TV show. Just like the "unghhhh" though, you can't knock it if it works. P turns in a performance suitable for such a hard track: "Still posted on the block, still slangin that coke Still runnin from the cops, still lettin them bitches know Still fuckin with Jamaicans, blowin that ganjay Uptown New Orleans where them thugs gon' find me Rollin with them head bussaz, my niggaz splittin wigs A couple of fuckin G's nigga, it could get did Straight from the hood, and I represent the street Send money to the pen, still fuckin with C (OAH-KAYYY!)" It's exactly what you'd expect from P, no more or no less - a tough guy image with occasionally cartoonish threats of violence. Skipping over a skit with C-Murder on the phone with P and the incredibly short song "We All We Got" (clocking in at under 90 seconds) you come to "Who Want Some" - an Myke Diesel produced club fighting anthem that's simple but effective. He also handles "Let Em Go" featuring Curren$y, which deserves dap for using symphonic strings and strong bass drops to ominous effect. Jon comes back to cameo and produce "Who Them Boyz," with topic matter that's pretty much interchangeable for track one or track four. This one's noteable for Jon's beat, a C-Murder cameo rap recorded live from jail, and a new female rapper named Liberty who unfortunately for her sounds like a poor man's Mia X. Myke Diesel continues to impress on the somber, Tupac-esque "Why They Wanna Wish Death" featuring Afficial, the short but intense "Anything Goes", and the first disc's last track "Them Jeans." This is also the album's first single, which is no surprise given it's a light-hearted ode to big butts, something Sir Mix-A-Lot will tell you firsthand ALWAYS sells records: "I'm country, she country, we country Come closer, it's a free country Damn you cute, girl you fine Keep it right there, I wanna make you mine Don't play no games, I gotta keep it real Got the +Magic Stick+, and a gold grill Shake what you got in them jeans (them jeans) Cause thugs need love, girl you know what I mean Hold up Ellie Mae, you could work it like that? Rock the boat and let it wobble from the back!" Moving on to the self-professed "Bad Side" one finds nothing like Ice Cube's classic "Death Certificate" where each side actually had a different intent. In fact, if P intended to show that his "Bad Side" was more dangerous he achieved the opposite, because this disc is the more R&B pop-oriented of the two. It starts off with the sugary "Ghetto Honey" featuring Theresa Esclovon humming melody and crooning the hook. It's followed by the second longest track out of the entire package, "That Ain't Nothing" featuring Curren$y, Romeo and Silkk the Shocker. The latter Miller brother had been surprisingly absent to this point, but what's more disappointing is that he doesn't spit the trademark rapid fire flow that made him both impossible to understand at times and a favorite among No Limit's fan base. In fact with the repeated phrase "that ain't nothing" coming at the end of every line, the song sounds like a parody of a Juvenile track. Things quickly shift back to the pop friendly format though, with Esclovon providing vocals again on the latin-tinged "Ghetto Model." For some reason, P's flow seems to be off beat though, or perhaps the track's rhythmic claps simply weren't necessary. Things really don't get back on track for P until "Tell 'Em," another hard as nails Myke Diesel track where P talks the kind of trash his fans want and need to hear: "My momma jacked niggaz so I don't trust no chick Put the gas up in the tank before I give it to a trick I got syrup in my cup mayne straight out the freezer Pass me a blunt then throw me a heater I see a flea up in the club, hatin on a pimp Put the collar on your dog before I leave him with a limp Boz looked at me mayne said - I don't give a fuck We got the whole fuckin club sayin THROW YO' HOOD UP! I'm the only pro baller, without a contract But a nigga got mo' cheddar than Kobe & Shaq" The album rounds out with a mixture of songs that continue to evoke comparisons to Tupac ("Ride for You"), songs Lil Jon already made ("We Like Them Girlz"), songs where Master P professes his love for his family ("Thug and Get Paper" with Silkk) and closes with "If" featuring another new female rapper named Souya. It seems an odd note to end on, but then again the whole presentation seems to be schizophrenic in organziation and presentation. In the end the title is perhaps more appropriate than P intended, because his new album does have both a "Good Side" and a "Bad Side" but not due to how he labelled the discs. When P's got the right beat and the right subject matter, he's not a lyrical maestro but he does do effective gangster rap you can't hate listening to. That's the good side. The bad side is that at times this album is full of watered down tracks and half-thought out concepts. Stripped down to one disc minus some skits and lesser tracks, this album might both figuratively and literally not have a "Bad Side" at all. Music Vibes: 7 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 5 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 6 of 10 Originally posted: March 30, 2004 |
yo mega u crazy& wut u postin them lyrics fa? |
aight, kormega, i got the message - you want me back in this one :D page 32 is still un-postable-at from work, so i use this rare moment of calm to write from home. still haven't read the Illmatic bit - too busy dissing, reffing, balling and translating. btw, i'm going for another boat voyage apr 28th - may 2nd, so don't be surprized if you don't hear from me on those days:rolleyes: |
yo yo seems like this bitch didnt get em up kicks for a long time uppin for posts |
/ / / / / / |
when this fuckin page gonna ends, I wonder / // / / / . |
it seems neva... |
/ / / / / / / |
just want this fukin page to quit so my man Moz can print on it . . is it possible |
ебаное дерьмо ю . |
ю ю . . . . . . . . . . . gf |
fuckin mad bout it fgh gfh dg dfg ds d d when it fukk ends |
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa l l |
shit a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a |
eternal page die mufuka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ain't gonna give up |
aight, kormega, i appreciate your effort :D it looks like a page is over when a certain number of characters is reached but i still can post from home alternatively, find me @ streetlife.ru, english battle No. 3 nobody posts there so we'd be virtually free to talk sh!t, i keep misspelling all the tasty cuss words but still at some point some page turns up banned by my server @ work... argrrrrrrrgggghhhh |
Цитата:
yo, son i got that Webwash crap installed on my work machines as well. But mine is kinda more generous lol...unowotmsayin? IT never bugs me that much.... I guess u have to talk to ya mod to get that bitch worked out...huh? |
wow this bitch ass page really seem quite overliving its age moderator, u lazy fuck, turn the next ON, BIATCHCHCHC |
Bow Wow :: Wanted :: Columbia/Sony BMG Music Entertainment as reviewed by Matt Jost First, there was Biggie. Then came Missy. Followed by Nelly, Chingy, Nitty and Smitty. Let's not forget Puff Daddy and 50 Cent shortening their handles to P. Diddy and Fiddy, the former even permanently. Notice a pattern? If not, maybe you will see one in the following sequence: Lil' Flip, Lil' Kim, Lil' Wayne, Lil' Romeo, Lil' Cease, Lil' Zane, Lil' Jon, Lil' Whyte, Lil' Scrappy, Lil' Troy, Lil' Keke. The list, as you're probably aware, goes on. Maybe the rap game is indeed a fountain of youth, considering how today many of its dominant figures are well in their thirties yet are still able to connect with the kids. Or maybe hip-hop simply discovered petiteness as a marketing ploy, realizing that as with so many brand products, it's all in the name. In which case it would be wrong to assume that the aforementioned are all cute and cuddly or make particularly endearing music. Someone who once succeeded at being and doing all of the above was Lil' Bow Wow, who debuted in 2000 at the tender age of 13 with "Beware of Dog." By the time he was ready to release his third album, he felt mature enough to drop the belittling diminutive and has henceforth simply been known as Bow Wow. "Wanted" is his fourth album in five years, reuniting him with mentor Jermaine Dupri after the guest producer parade of "Unleashed." As if to celebrate his coming of age, "Wanted" contains "Eighteen" from "Unleashed" as a hidden bonus track. "I'm on a mission now, I'm in transition now," he knew back then, eagerly awaiting his 18th birthday. That day came on March 9th this year, with the effect that some of the songs on this album were recorded by a minor, others by an adult. Always heeling his prominent doggfather, who went from Snoop DOGGY Dogg to BIG Snoop Dogg, Bow Wow longs for the day the big dogs accept him as their peer. The difference is that Snoop, ever since he first wished "187 on a undercover cop" in 1992, could always be held accountable as an adult. Bow Wow on the other hand can only hope that his teen audience has matured with him and has yet to grow into the role of an adult rapper. How does he fare? Well, "Wanted" opens up with a crowd of kids chanting "Bow Wow! Bow Wow!" So much for a first impression. "106 & Park ain't been the same since I had it / so I'm back at it," he begins, but just when you think it's business as usual for Bow Weezy, he decides to teach the rappers following in his footsteps a lesson, because "imitators mimick but them guys is sloppy." Why settle for a copy when you can have the original is his argument. And apparently, the fans agree: "Who else you gon' roll with, the future is me / Only young'uns that's movin' units is - uhm, me." He continues: "Not just the rap game, the whole industry's the same everybody wanna look and sound like the next mane But I'm definite, there ain't another me and I'm So So Definite, back with JD" You could call it the Emancipation of Bow Wow were it not for the fact that that very same JD is back at it again, writing lyrics for one of his prodigious protegйes. Now ghostwriting is a reality in rap music, and with Jermaine Dupri and Bow Wow we're dealing with the usual suspects. But don't you think that when you're so eager to grow up, when you spend so much time talking about the money you make, the cars you drive ("Phantom with the suicide do's"!), the jewelry you wear, when you're on your fourth album and you talk down on others because they lack originality - that you should write your own rhymes? That would be a true sign of maturity, much more than the sudden surge of sexual prowess as displayed on "Do What it Do": "A nigga 18 now, you ain't know? If you touch me like you did when we was kids - oh-oh It's on, it's on, I'ma take you home I'm grown, I'm grown, I make you moan" Oh, in case you didn't catch it, "Wanted" marks the introduction of the "N" word into the Bow Wow vocabulary. It's on 8 tracks out of 12, he says it 16 times in 47 minutes. Interestingly, he won't use it on the only self-written song, "B.O.W." Produced by Lil Ronnie und Bow himself, "B.O.W." is one of the better offerings here, a catchy but not corny hook, a beat resonating with a strong boom-clack-boom, a fresh flow enunciating elevated lyrics. "Fresh Azimiz" comes close despite its Jermaine involvement, with another good hook benefitting from guest vocals from JD and J-Kwon. "Caviar" is the inevitable Snoop cameo, and while he seems unaware that he's on a Bow Wow song, talking about "shootin' niggas down, slappin' bitches up," Bow manages to steal the show with "If you paid like I'm paid / then your cribs came with the maids / and if they didn't, then you slippin' / Catch up, about the time you do, I probably do it different." Maybe I find it hard to shake the image of the adorable kid he once was, but at least to me it seems that the Bow Wow sans the Lil' still fares better when he sticks to family-friendly music. Early on, "Big Dreams" finds approval, as he portrays three people who gave in to temptation and consequently had to give up on their dreams - the aspiring athlete forsaking his hoop dreams for street dreams, the singer who has already signed the dotted line when her no-good boyfriend takes her down with him, and the uncle who's a drug addict catching AIDS. Not even Dupri and LRoc's utterly cheap-sounding drums, keys and strings can't change the fact that this is a very important song. With the help of No ID JD handles "Let Me Hold You" succesfully, and it would be a surprise if the cleverly incorporated sped-up soul sample, Bow Wow's emphatic lyrics and the guest vocals by B2K lead singer Omarion wouldn't result in a hit. The same goes for the duet with his current love interest Ciara, "Like You." Simplistic, sappy, but okay. With the puppy love being taken care of, there are also moments of rather straightforward sexual innuendo ("If you pet me nowadays, girl, the dog is pokin'"). Something Bow Wow is probably entitled to, but which still somehow rubs me wrong. Here is a rapper who would have had the chance to carve out a niche for himself, but finds himself at the verge of turning into the kind of rapper we already have enough of. It is very likely that Bow Wow is "hypnotizin' these hoes like they gone off that lean," but that doesn't necessarily mean that he has to put it that way. Yamean? As for good old Jermaine Dupri, it looks like he finally lost it. Every single beat on "Wanted" is generic down to the gristle, from the bounce derivative "Fresh Azimiz" to "Do You," a coloring book presentation with token bass strings, a cheesy rock guitar and mystifying singing. Even his assistants LRoc and Bryan Michael Cox can't get him out of the mess that "Wanted" ultimately turns out to be. They're certainly no match for Carl So-Lowe, who helped keep JD's production game fresh in the latter half of the '90s. "Go" owes to Chubb Rock's "Treat 'Em Right," but the original is so obscured by the stiff interpolation that you wonder why they even bothered to cite it as a source. The same goes for "Is That You (P.Y.T.)," which has little to do with the Michael Jackson template. There was a time when everything Jermaine Dupri touched turned platinum. While Bow Wow may still be a highly marketable rapper, as his writer and producer Dupri is simply tampering with the young man's career. Bow Wow in turn should worry less about what he owns than how (and if) he earns it. Just five years ago, there was something extremely confidential about this kid's delivery and his overall demeanor. In 2005, the former boy wonder has become a wholly unspectacular rapper. With "Wanted," he's still 'in transition', chances for a turnaround are still intact, but the way things are looking Bow Wow is speeding down a dead-end street. Well, at least he does so in a Phantom Rolls. Music Vibes: 5 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 4 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 4.5 of 10 Originally posted: August 23, 2005 |
Please visit this ad sponsor to help support the website! Bow Wow :: Unleashed :: Columbia Records as reviewed by Steve 'Flash' Juon The artist formerly known as Lil Bow Wow is not so little any more. He's older (16), a bit taller, his voice is deeper, and on occasion he even calls himself "Bow Weezy" now. The impression one can derive from his new album's title "Unleashed" is that he's quite literally off the chain. No handlers leading him around, writing his lyrics, or sculpting his image. That's fiction of course - he has been a carefully crafted recording industry product ever since "Beware of Dog" in 2001; albiet a relatively inoffensive one that's pleasant to listen to. Still whether it's a contrived image or a concerted effort to show his advancement, Bow Wow has certainly updated his material to show how far he's come since the days he was "Lil" and Jermaine Dupri was his chief producer. The heavy hitters of hip-hop have been brought in to bang out the beats. From Swizz Beatz to Jazze Pha to The Neptunes to Lil' Jon, the album's 13 tracks are almost all consistant with the sound of today's urban crossover hip-hop. To solidify the case for change, Baby guest stars on the Jazze Pha produced lead single "Let's Get Down." Annoying bird calls aside, it is a catchy song about Bow Wow trying to catch a little punani: "I know a girl named Keisha, she's no groupie But far from a stars, 22's made her choose me Like ooh-wee! Tellin all her friends in the Benz 'He don't really look 16 do he?' 112, youngest thing on the scene Couldn't believe when I seen how she squeezed in them jeans Looks like a tight situation Make a young man make flight reservations Just step, no intimidations I'm Bow Wow boo, accept no imitations Should have seen the looks on they faces The ice plus light, makes for good converation You tellin me, it's a felony, to yell at me I blew her mind, she was dazed momentarily But luckily, she stayed for some therapy I stay pimpin heavily, my game spittin thoroughly" And the flossing continues on the smooth floating Neptunes track "The Don, The Dutch": "I gotta couple of cribs, push a couple of cars I pull the Mazeratti out the garage That's how I ride, I'm worldwide, international Say you better, whatever, don't be irrational See me passin you, I'm goin, ya lost Hit you at the light, and I'ma dust ya Porsche Cause I'ma dope MC, and I'm down by law Fremelay all the way to New York To you MC's, who jock my style You better freeze, 'fore I get hos-tile You wannabeez, but ya not like Bow As you can see... I'm much realer Was born to get on and preform, get scrilla The freshest of the fresh, the best, you know it" And that's pretty much the lyrical content of the entire album. It's toned down a bit compared to his peers, mainly because their LP's come with a parental advisory sticker and his has none. It doesn't get any more profund than "The Movement," where Bow Wow advocates his generation rising up out of madness to achieve despite adversity. Other than that it's cocky swagger on "I Can't Lose," more macking on "Hey Little Momma" featuring Jagged Edge, a triple time attempt on "I'll Move On," and still more self-assured confidence on the LT Hutton produced bonus track "I'm Back": "Every dog has his day, so right now'll be mine I ain't no unpolished, I'm a polished diamond that shine Had to retire my Mickey Mouse, I'd gotten too old Peachfuzz on my lip, homeboy I'm grown I'm that Eastside, East savin, 6-1-fo' reppin Girl getter, play wit her, flow got better Look at me on top, number one is my rank I'm enjoyin it, sittin back, watchin y'all MC's sink" Owing either to his age or years of experience in the rap business, Bow Wow's flow has gotten a little bit better and his writtens a little bit tighter; but he's certainly not breaking into the clever repertoire of a Jay-Z or Ras Kass just yet. Still one thing remains the same about Bow Wow - clever marketing or true talent, he's still a relatively inoffensive and likeable pop culture rap artist. By maturing his musical sound along with his voice, he successfully sheds the "Lil" image for good and makes an effective play for establishing his longevity in the business. Whether it will "play in every suburb" as he claims on the album is up to whether his audience of yore is willing to grow with him, or if they'll just switch to the next Lil (and likely less talented) MC. Music Vibes: 7.5 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 7.5 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 7.5 of 10 Originally posted: September 9, 2003 |
| Часовой пояс GMT +3, время: 09:52. |
Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.11
Copyright ©2000 - 2025, vBulletin Solutions Inc.
vBulletin Optimisation provided by
vB Optimise (Pro) -
vBulletin Mods & Addons Copyright © 2025 DragonByte Technologies Ltd.