Those Ain't Grits & These Ain't Eggs - A Letter To Secular HIP HOP
I have a problem with being a camillionaire. No disrespect to the actual rapper. I just refuse to dumb down in order to rise up. Let me explain. My intellect is one to be cherished, not to be ashamed of. They are so quick to serve you garbage on a platter with a little green leaf on the side, and tell you it’s grits and eggs gourmet. Frankly I’m sick and tired of some industry cat telling me that, in every other line there has to be a curse word. I have to talk about bi**hes and hoes, the color of my cars, how much dope I sell, and oh, did I mention; I have a gun! If 50cent got shot ten times, then I need to be shot eleven. I need 42 tattoos over my face so that I don’t fit in any other place, but with the rest of these fools dressed in their dumb monkey suits. Nas never lied. Hip-Hop is dead… I know, because now I must make deals with the real Castro. As if people listening can tell real. It’s all protocol. Like the newest Gucci bag released on the street with one extra stitch; as if Gucci doesn’t have a snitch. Add one extra stitch to the newest dope boy rapper and see if last years’ fakes don’t switch. They try too hard to be authentic. The real dudes are trying hard to get out of the hood while these real fools are fighting ever so hard to get in it. “Since you so hood” ask yourself, why are we the only genre of music where A&R’s rush to sign look a likes and sound a likes. Give them three more little Wayne’s and 4 mores T- Pains and they’ll sign them all tonight. They afraid to release anything with variety, content, or color, see that would be a conflict in interest. That would prove that we have star power as well as star sense. Also we are not just artist; we are articulate but, they have to keep our hip hop image tainted and dense. Now it all makes sense; why you keep feeding me this bull-ish telling me it’s the s**t. Because that’s exactly what it is. They say most niggas are so hungry they can’t see the meal because they blinded by the bread. Well those ain’t grits and these ain’t eggs…
