with DeadSun
You've seen him in Fan Speak all around
the antiMUSIC network, now DeadSun gets his big show as the host of his
very own talk show, The Not Quite-So DeadShow ! Forget Oprah and
Dr. Phil, DeadSun knows how to liven up a talk show.
 .
.
You
Ain’t Underground, G. You Livin’ in a Mansion, Dawg
Have you ever heard the things some people
credit to contemporary rap?
Hip hop: a bold voice, bringing the reality
of inner city plight before us.
The urban battle cry which flies in the
face of well-to-do, white America.
The sounds from the oppressed underground.
Wow--- it’s all of those things?
I must have missed all of that noble sentimentality,
as I was being bombarded with the ubiquitous images of:
1.) diamond encrusted rings
2.) iced out medallions
3.) bottles of 1996 Louis Roederer Cristal
Brut
4.) women wearing dental floss “up in
da clubs”
5.) expensive designer clothes
6.) blingin’ gold “toof caps”
What a scam.
THIS is ghetto? This isn’t “ghetto”---
this is Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, saturated in ebonics and pimp
ethos--- and you suckers are gobbling it up. Millions of you. Dolts.
These days, what else is more amusing than
being given life lessons about privileged whitey--- from a guy drinking
a $325.00 bottle of bubbly, and who is wearing the contents of a bank vault
around his neck? I don’t know about you, but I can really feel a tug at
my heart strings when I see those oppressed people from poor cities on
TV, flashing five inch thick sheaths of 100 dollar bills at the camera.
I know--- it probably chokes you up, too. One simply can’t fathom the debt
of gratitude the poor inner city dwellers must owe to the fine job these
rappers do in bringing their case before the world.
What’s the best way to deal with areas
that are plagued by crime, drugs, and prostitution?
Rappers have the answer. Evidently--- the
solution lies in glamorizing the lifestyle of crime, drugs, and prostitution---
to portray a fantasy world, where the liquor and the smoke never run out,
everybody has nice clothes, hot cars, lotza bling bling, twelve “bitches”,
doesn’t work a day job, and drops any suckaz that get in their way without
consequences. Boy, I tried to think of a more lucid, intelligent, and socially
conscious message that rappers could be putting out to poor inner city
kids and, I must say, I just couldn’t do it. Those rappers truly have the
best interests of their communities at heart--- it’s very touching.
Speaking of suckers--- just keep buying
those records, suckers. And while you’re at it, don’t forget to buy the
phat ride, to buy the fashion accessories, to adopt the jargon, and to
learn the hand signals.
You’re not “underground”. You’re the herd.
You’re buying a product--- no different than buying hair gel, a cell phone,
or a new pair of Nikes. Someone’s getting rich off of you. The level of
cultural awareness that your “music” has reduced itself to packs the same
punch as a gold watch and a Mercedes Benz. You’re the shining example of
extravagant “middle white America” consumerism that your rap heroes incessantly
berate, you donkey.
… but you’re “keeping it real” as long
as you’ve got your “Crunk juice”, right?
“Crunk.”
HA HA HA HA HA!
“Playaz don’t let playaz crive crunk, yo.”
Go off and crink your crunk--- you gotta
keep it real, yo.
Suckers.
DS
Your
turn.
Fan
Speak:
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