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

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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

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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
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

yo yo
seems like this bitch didnt get em up kicks for a long time

uppin for posts

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when this fuckin page gonna ends, I wonder
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it seems neva...

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just want this fukin page to quit so my man Moz can print on it




































































































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is it possible

ебаное дерьмо



















































































































































































































































































































































































































































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gf

fuckin mad bout it







































































































































































































































































































































































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when it fukk ends

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eternal page
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ain't gonna give up

aight, kormega, i appreciate your effort
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 от Mozzy :
aight, kormega, i appreciate your effort
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

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

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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