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And as a die-hard fan of “real” hip-hop (miss me with this current generation of face-tatted Soundcloud rappers, though), I’m tired. And at its worst, hip-hop reinforces stereotypes about black people, women, and queer people glorifies violence, greed, and capitalism and traffics in unchecked toxic masculinity, misogyny, homophobia, and transphobia.
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While at its most mediocre, it at least provides a banger to which one can get turnt, hopefully, all the way up. As a lover of words, it’s the ultimate musical form. At it’s best, it speaks to the black experience in America more eloquently than any other genre since the funk of the ’70s. This also illustrates why I love hip-hop. But there’s also a bit of clever wordplay here-a “faggot,” in British parlance, also refers to a bundle of sticks, and a “switch” can also mean a slender twig, so that Nas is giving us not only a double but a triple entendre. I used to find fault with Nas’s boast in the following line-”But not bisexual, I’m an intellectual”-because it seemed falsely intellectual, hotep-ish, really, to claim wisdom while using such a pejorative term and then reflexively proclaiming his own heterosexuality. It’s a strong visual: A gay man walking with sass and purpose, switching, as I do all over these New York streets, while, perhaps unintentionally, invoking a sexual position among the faggot class, switching from top to bottom, all to describe his own flare on the mic. Magic / Versatile, my style switches like a faggot.” I always rap along, almost unconsciously, until that “faggot” when I’m temporarily thrown, only to brush it off as I always do, as I’ve always done for years because even though hip-hop has never been fair or welcoming to me, that doesn’t mean, like all abusive relationships, that I can’t love it even if it doesn’t love me. On it, Nas spits couplets worthy of Shakespeare, like, “I drop jewels, wear jewels, hope to never run it / With more kicks than a baby in a mother’s stomach” and “And in the darkness I’m heartless like when the NARC’s hit / Word to Marcus Garvey, I hardly sparked it.” The internal rhyming alone had every MC from the Boogie Down to Compton shook.īut the lines that stick with me most did so not because of their complexity or ingenuity, but the presence of a word and a sentiment that I have grown accustomed to in rap music: “I got to have it, I miss Mr. Jones released in 1992 under his then-moniker, Nasty Nas. I especially love “Halftime,” a classic, lyrically dense B-boy cut that a 19-year-old Mr.
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Right up there with Rumours, Songs in the Key of Life, Purple Rain, and The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. Nas’s Illmatic is one of my top five favorite albums of all time.