I was tempted to write an entire column filled with “fucks” to properly give voice to how I’m feeling right now, but nah. That would just be so, so crass—and I know just how important it is to so many of y’all that I “speak so well,” since you’ve been telling me that all my life.
Actually, fuck it. Fuck the goddamn KKK (just to quote Willie D for the second consecutive week). Fuck Volksfront. Fuck the goddamn Northwest Front, and fuck that funky fedora-wearing fuck of a hack writer fuck who leads them. Fuck the white supremacist terrorists out there who’ve set fire to seven—is it really fucking seven?—black churches throughout the South. And they’re always worried about black people burning up shit! Fuck all of the police and the fuck-all they’re doing about it, every news outlet that barely gives it consideration, and every person who would deny what the fuck is going on. Your belief is not fucking required, and abuse of power comes as no surprise.
Fuck that broke-nose, empty-vault-findin’-ass Geraldo for hating on the boy Kendrick, too. Fuck the idea that he and rap in general “are more damaging to black people than racism.” GTFO. I really don’t fuck with BET like that, so I didn’t see his performance on its awards, but the video for “Alright” that just dropped? That shit feels like right fucking now.
As does Dreams Worth More Than Money, the new album from North Philly furnace Meek Mill—after two studio albums and a couple well-loved mixtape trilogies, it feels like Meek’s time. Especially when you consider the perfect PR of having the flyest girl in the game wearing his chain, with Nicki popping up to play the ’15 Bonnie to his Clyde Barrow with the double barrel. DWMTM is, for the most part, a totally dominant statement, worthy of those couple references to All Eyez on Me; by the time you get to “I Got the Juice” (shit, by the time you get to the intro), you gotta agree with the dude. Meek’s Maybach Music label bawse Rick Ross comes through, too—and it had to suck having an MMG record drop while he’s going back to jail (he’s now out on bail) for some heavy shit (namely, assault and kidnapping). Save just a couple tracks—the ones coincidentally featuring DJ Khaled and Diddy’s oh-so-fleet-footed ass—you’re liable to smell kerosene upon your first listen.
Is it a small comfort, having so much good rap to listen to (for the first time in a minute, I’m anticipating making a year-end list) in this very hot summer of this very hot year? Fuck yeah! And I don’t doubt that it’s the steep stakes of these all-or-nothing times that are steeping such potent tea. Shit, I’m still catching up to all these leaked Young Thug songs—and even the soon-to-be-free-agent Lil Wayne is warming the fuck back up. Underground and over and ultra grounds are all providing. Churches are still burning. What the fuck we gone do?
So fuck what you talking about—and guess what I’m fresh out of? 