“That Can’t Ban The Snowman Intro is what made me realize I wasn’t living up to my full potential.” – Anonymous

There’s always a big discussion around who’s real and who’s fake in Hip Hop. I’m asking, does it really matter? I’ve always considered Hip Hop to be for entertainment purposes only. In a few weeks, I’ll tackle how Hip Hop’s global imprint causes problems for the way Black people are viewed by the world. However today, I’m just going to talk about how nonsensical Hip Hop fans sound when they spend countless hours debating who’s real and who’s fake. Keep in mind, most of the fans debating this also watch wrestling and love video vixens. They just want their Hip Hop real.

The truth is, no one should really care if Hip Hop is real or fake. For the most part, they’re all rapping or singing about a life they’re probably not living or never lived. That’s okay, it’s Hip Hop, it’s supposed to be about telling a story. I remember when I decided to stop worrying about if someone was real or fake. I was listening to Nas and I started doing the math of the stories he told and I just couldn’t figure out how it all fit into his lifetime. Shortly thereafter, I realized that it didn’t really matter, Oochie Wally was still my favorite song on the radio at the time.

As it pertains to the women in Hip Hop, we spend entirely too much time trying to figure them out. It’s our way categorizing and ranking. That’s the way we like to express our support for our favorites. Nicki Minaj has butt shots and Beyonce is wearing butt pads… and water is still wet. You can name as many female rappers and video vixens as you want and point out how their bodies are fake, I still don’t care. Remember, hip hop is about the story you weave, nobody asks for a Carfax when you get a record deal. My boy put it best when he said, “Fake breasts are like Rick Ross raps, fake as hell but I feel em.”

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A few years ago, Erykah Badu had a concert coming up and I said, “Badu is kind of played out right now, they should have picked Jill.” My friend shot back at me, “If Badu don’t get her money, I guarantee you them chicks will be fighting. All that neo-soul and peace ‘ish will got out the window.” I started looking at things very different after that. I realized that Lauryn Hill was just as fake as all the rest of them, and unless Mary J. Blige doesn’t stop repackaging the same album every 3 years, I’ll assume she’s still on drugs and in an abusive relationship. It’s all a gimmick, a game, if you didn’t care about the money, fame and legacy, you’d go into a recluse and release all your music for free. Again, I don’t have time to sit here and figure all this out, all those women make music I like to hear.

This is a quote from the Honorable NC-17:

“I love Rick Ross because he knows how to weave a tale so grand that if you allow yourself to believe one word of it you’d be like “Damn, he’s an extraordinary human being”. You think a 300 pound Black Man could fly to Bogota and meet with the cartels without being spotted by every drug enforcement agency in the world?”

This is where Ross puts in work.

In my other post today, I alluded to how much Jeezy I listen to on a regular basis and how if it wasn’t for jail and possibly being shot at, I would be in Atlanta selling bricks. That’s how believable Jeezy is to me. I don’t know if Jeezy is telling the truth about all his drug selling in his music, it doesn’t matter. In my opinion, I made a Jeezy playlist with all his intro tracks and I walk around the city like I’m second coming of Rayful Edmond. Speaking of Rayful, last week he was released from jail in the quiet of the night. I saw him on the corner in Trinidad and challenged him to a freestyle competition and beat his ass by the 4th bar. The point is, real drug lords don’t rap, they sell drugs.

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We’re never going to find out what set Lil’ Wayne reps and nobody gives a damn. We care more about Wayne going back to being the coked out version of himself when Carter 3 came out than we’ll ever care about if he ever goes back to New Orleans and helps out his city. A reporter asked 50 Cent how he feels when people say he’s rapping about the hood when he doesn’t live there anymore, 50 responded, the same way he feels about rappers rapping about money and they aren’t rich.

Well, damn.

Ey what I stand for? Flocka! Brick Squad!
I’m a die for this shawty man I swear to god
In the trap with some killers and some hood n*ggas
Where you at? Where your trap? You ain’t hood, n*gga
Keep this sh*t 300, put that sh*t on my hood
Crips f***in with me, G’s and the Vice Lords
Eses in the Meeko freestyle off da dome
Brick Sqaud Waka Flocka Flame it’s f***in on!

Word? I doubt it.

Waka Flocka Flame, was born Juaquin Malphurs, his mama is Debra Antney. Debra Antney is Gucci Mane and French Montana’s manager. She’s been well off for some time now. Waka didn’t grow up in the trap, he grew up in a two parent household in suburban Atlanta.

“When my lil brotha died I said f*** school.”

I should add he also graduated high school and is an only child. Waka still makes the best freaking strip club music in the history of the game! In two years he’s already surpassed 2 Live Crew in my book. In just a short time, Waka has replaced DMX as the rapper of choice for disgruntled workers. I say, LET THAT MAN COOK!

Don’t talk to me bout MC’s got skillz
He’s alright but he’s not real
Jay-Z’s that deal with seeds in a field
Never fear for war, hug, squeeze that steel

What part of Jay-Z has ever been about that life? If he was such a big deal in NYC, how come we didn’t hear about him? Forget about us, how come the FBI or the DEA didn’t hear about him? Guess what? No one cares! Jay-Z is an excellent storyteller, arguably the best in the history of Hip Hop.  And yes, I considered Slick Rick when I wrote that.

Pictured here: Jay-Z’s Rap Sheet

Let me tell you three people who have really been about that life…