New age Rap & Hip-Hop

You know what really grinds my gear??? Today’s rap and hip hop music! I love rap, I love hip hop; but like a parent worrying about the direction of its child’s life, I feel like I have to say something. I have found myself debating with people holding contrasting opinion on this matter and I have been on the losing end. This art form has become harder and harder to defend. It is hard to appreciate this new wave of artists with their violent depiction of life while glorifying a materialistic culture that I wouldn’t want my kids to learn. They continuously strip women of humanistic values and in this era of information and instant sharing, such values are traveling at brain-dizzying speed polluting our society, replacing social norms and values that most of us want to keep.

Old school rap on the other hand, now that’s something I can stand behind and defend. Disrespect 2Pac and see teeth leave mouth and chin swell up. The movement had a goal and empowerment was in the middle of it all. Freedom of expression ruled the airwaves and what artists said mattered just as much as how they said it. Songs had a moral back bone, something that the public had long longed for. I’m not saying NWA was not violent, by any means; however, it was the voice of many. Heads bobbed and conscience touched while 2Pac and Dr. Dre collaborated. The poor little ghetto child finally had a voice and it still made your ass dance. Now, produce a nice beat, wear a bullet proof vest, say nigga a few times, while five “dancers” shake it in the background - and you have a number one hit.  Oh the humanity; Pointless words mashed together into something that a five year old wouldn’t call rhymes, and stupid dance to follow is what sells nowadays.  While he is “Supermaning that hoe,” we are standing by dancing to this filth that’s making millions of dollars lowering the bar of what our kids call art.

Oh how I miss the days where the oppressed used rap as a way of communicating ideas. But wait, this is exactly what is going on now; except, rather than empowering, they’re enabling. Examples work best for me so let me proceed by giving you a few. 

“Sexy, can I visit you at work?   /   While you sliding down the pole, no panties, no shirt   /   Then you climb back up the pole, then you drop and do the splits   /   How you make that booty talk, baby damn, you want some new sh**?”

Although it contributes nothing to society other that objectifying women and glorifying promiscuity, as soon as this song comes on, women rush to the dance floor singing along with it.  This I can’t understand: why would the oppressed celebrate the oppressor, contributing to the oppression? In my opinion this is the same as the Jewish people celebrating songs praising the holocaust, Africans celebrating the slave trade, or Tibetans celebrating the Chinese government. Confront a woman about this and you get the same answer: “He aint talking about me!”

Let me show you what rhymes really look like; how poetry in a form of a song feels and the power that it carries with it. Let me show you the pain in the artist’s verses, eloquently projecting his vision and despair. Let it transport you!

I see mothers in black cryin', brothers in packs dyin' /   Plus everybody's high, too doped up to ask why   /   Watchin' our own downfall, witness the end   /   It's like we don't believe in God 'cause we livin' in sin.

I asked my homie on the block why he strapped, he laughed   /   Pointed his pistol as the cop car passed and blast   /   It's just another murder, nobody mourns no more   /   My tear drops gettin' bigger but can't figure what I'm cryin' for.

Is it the miniature caskets, little babies   /   Victims of a stray from drug dealers gone crazy   /   Maybe it's just the drugs, visions of how the block was   /   Crack came and it was strange how it rocked us.

Perhaps the underlyin' fact stay high explain genocide   /   It's when we ride on our own kind   /   What is it we all fear, reflections in the mirror   /   We can't escape fate, the end is gettin' nearer.