3 posts tagged “hip-hop”
In case you can't tell from the title of the song, this shit is sooooooooooo manifestly Not Safe For Work that you might actually get spanked by your boss or have your mouth washed out with GoJo if you listen to this shit on the job...unless you have headphones or earbuds or somethin'. Anyway, get ready for the best damned "it's all about that SSSY" song since Snoop Dogg's "I Wanna Fuck You" or Ludacris's...well, damnear anything by Ludacris.
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Inside every man, no matter how old, how sophisticated, how charming and how mature, there's a 15-year-old boy who giggles whenever he hears a song like this. Here's a sample of my actual inner dialogue that I had when listening to this song for the first time:
HHAHHHAHAHAH--he's said "fucking"!
No, dummy, he said, "I only love you when we're fucking!" That's some real gangsta shit, there.
I don't care what else he said, he said fucking! Twice! THREE TIMES--FOUR! It's all about the pussy!
If you're reading a blog called THAT'S MY MOTHERFUCKING JAM! then you already know this to be true--I only wrote about this for those music journalists and Pitchfork Media wankers who may have stumbled across it looking for a good pull-quote to steal for their own articles.
Now, that said, let's get into the nittygritty here: This is just a flat-out good, catchy, rap song perfect for A) clubs where people get together and dance and B) clubs where people get together an naked ladies dance...if you, ahem, gets my drift. It's just a fun song, period--it has a groovy beat, amusing lyrics that clearly aren't meant to be taken seriously, and...it's just fun, okay? Whereas the remainder of B-Real's new solo album Smoke N Mirrors is quite serious in its social commentary on the absurdity of gang life and the hardships of bottom-class blacks and Latinos in southern California--and, of course, considering this is a B-Real record, cannabis--this is just a song that's meant to blow off some steam (or some indo smoke) after an otherwise largely-sober outing. I particularly like the '80s-RUN-DMC beat that suddenly gets covered up with a total '70s-porn groove, and the fact that this is not a one-sided misogynistic playa's fuckfest--as B-Real lays it out that women can be down with the meaningless booty, too.
Seriously, if you can't get down to a song that's about nothing but booty--be you male or be you female--you needs to check yo'self. I mean, I don't even have a libido anymore, and I think this song is the bees' knees. It's so juvenile it's beautiful, much like a scribbled drawing of a triumphant cock inside a highschool boy's (or girl's) notebook for math class.
I've sure as hell never driven a Testarossa. I'm not sure what they even look like--I just know that they're real fast, superslick European sports-cars that men with feathered hair and tiny penises like to drive at insane speeds on Germany's Autobahns and the hilly mountain highways of northern Italy. The Testarossa sure inspires a lot of musicians, too--but in surprisingly different ways. Thus I bring you THAT'S MY MOTHERFUCKING JAM!'s first-ever double-header: two songs called "Testarossa" that may share a name and an inspiration but could not possibly be more different.
OK, first off: this song is sooooooooooooo incredibly Not Safe For Work...unless you work for a place where they don't mind you listening to hardcore rap songs about homosexual gang rape.
I first heard of Gangsta Fag several years ago through a friend of mine who shares my juvenile love of music in which people swear a lot and talk about naughty things. I remember Corey saying, "Pegritz, you'll lose your mind when you hear Gangsta Fag. It's this guy doing gangsta rap about being a flaming homo." Needless to say, I had to hear this for myself, so I sought out "Twisted G"'s five-track EP and...
I nearly broke a rib laughing.
I knew from Day One that Gangsta Fag was not "for real"--this had to be a parody: somebody was playing a big joke on someone else here. The music on the tracks is actually very well-put-together and well-recorded, and Gangsta Fag's delivery is tough, mean, and right on time. But the subject matter of the songs is an utter triumph of juxtaposition: here you have a serious thug rapping not about bitches and hoes and cappin' muthafuckas but having sex with mens and wettin' up gaybashers.
"The Faggots" is by far the best track on the album: 1) because the chorus, "Run from the faggots! Run from the faggots!" is just hysterical (and catchy!); and 2) because, really, underneath the parodic humor and the sheer ludicrousness of the act, this is not a song that makes fun of gay people--it has fun with them. In it, Gangsta Fag witnesses his boyfriend getting beaten up by gaybashers and then him and his gay-thug homies hunt them down, ass-rape them, and then shoot 'em dead. Yes, it's positively ridiculous and over-the-top, but the humor's not particularly mean-spirited, and it's clear that Anthony Clark oops, I mean Gangsta Fag is not so much poking fun at homos as he's poking fun at the idiotic homophobia of hip-hop in general and gangsta rap in particular.
So just remember the words of Eddie Murphy while listening to this jam: "Y'all better not forget that faggots are men...and they will kick your ass!"
(I do find Mr. Clark's overextended admission of being a true ladies' man and pimptastic playa despite being the voice and mind behind Gangsta Fag to be a little...well, let's say it smacks of going a bit too far to establish that he is, indeed, superduper-heterosexual. Methinks he may be trying to cover up for something...if ya know what I'm sayin'....)
