Super-Villain Style

Da Beat Terrorists Present Big Willie Smith

This will be up permanantly for the time being. It’s a 128 rip, so the quality ain’t great. But if you ever wanted to hear this, hear it is.

A white man always has his hands up the ass of a brother. ALWAYS! It’s just the way shit is. I was reading another fuckin article about how dudes get fucked in the music biz. I always wondered why big record labels would fuck with old dudes like Krs-One and Clark Kent, put these brothers on staff, and have them shill for the company. It’s all bait and switch.

Although I understand that shit. You get somebody like myself, somebody who still loves this shit, and you have me go around to stupid young fucks and hype they fuckin’ style up. You tell these little adolescents how good they sound and how the company you work for wants to put mad dough into their shit. And you tell them that nobody will fuck with their style, that they’ll still be able to put on the same bullshit they’ve been putting on. And a brother like me, since I believe that shit, will come off straight up truthful-like. Only thing is, it’ll be all bullshit. Because I’m essentially workin’ for the devil, and the devil don’t give a fuck.

The devil will eventually fuck you over. And that’s how all these artists end up. They get they shit put out, put millions in the industry, and find out in the end that they ain’t gettin shit but 4, maybe 5, g’s for the shit they just topped charts with. And they really ain’t got that, because they asses in the hole to the company for millions still. And the sad thing is, since the devil’s a vicious muthafucka, that dude’s gonna talk these broke muthafuckas into borrowing more money on their next shit, putting that ass even deeper in debt. It’s one of the reasons why groups like a Tribe Called Quest break up. Dude’s selling millions and still gotta live with their mamas.

Now that’s what I call some sick shit. And that’s why a brother always gotta respect the devil. What’s that saying: keep your friends close and your enemy closer.

click me

Shit will be up a day or two. For real this time.

I guess I got another one for my year end top ten list, that being Blueprint’s 1988. The other is the Game shit from January. Blueprint keeps amazing me. Each time I underestimate his shit, each time he tops himself. Of course, I don’t wanna sound like I’m riding on his shit. His vocals can still be annoying. And the majority of the time he’s bitchin’ and whinin’. Somebody’s always stealing his style, or not understanding his shit right, or not doing right by him. I wonder if he gets that half the shit he puts on other people can be applied to himself. At times he sounds like just another underground hater, like myself. Yet, he seems to try to distance himself from the hateration. You can’t talk about it and not be about it at the same time.

Of course, I hope he never reads this shit because I don’t want him to kick my ass. Although I have the feeling he probably couldn’t. He says he could knock my fuckin’ teeth out, but I doubt it. Some rappers you believe that shit, that they could actually fuck you up. I think Notorious might have been able to beat the shit out of me, possibly even Tupac, but definitely Biggie. Most other rappers I don’t know about. I think Ghostface and Raekwon could probably fuck me up, but I don’t know about Jadakiss and Cassidy. I wonder about them two. 50 could probably whup my ass. He looks like a filthy ass street muthafucka, but I might be able to beat Young Buck’s ass. There are just some people who look the part, while the rest of them look and sound like they’re fakin’.

Not that I’m saying that Blueprint is faking it. It just that he sounds like my cousin. I got a cousin who’s like one of them big shot business big wigs. He works at a top financial agency. The dude is straight up respectful, and is married with two kids. He’s a deacon at his church and lives the right life. He’s always done things straight.

He’s also always been a hustler. He used to have me and my other cousins and his brothers out on the corner selling shit for him. Not illegal shit. More like candy and magazines and shit like that. He used to go to the store and buy food and cook that shit up and have us sell that shit on the street. He’d keep most of the profits and throw a little change to our little asses.

He’s always worked strong like that. But I never ever felt like he was the hardest dude I’ve known. I never heard or seen him get into a fight. And he’s always carried himself in such a way that I’ve always seen him, I don’t if I’d use the term soft, just straight, just always straight and narrow like. Now, there ain’t shit wrong with that. Hell, that brother is like the richest dude in my family. I guess he’s been blessed for all that clean living. Sometimes I wish I was more like him. I just know his style ain’t no where close to my shit.

I could never be happy living like he lives, with the wife and the two kids and the Sunday sermons. I couldn’t live with always being on, and always having to say the right shit to people. Shit, I figure if you can’t be honest with people once and awhile, and talk shit, and do real shit, you can’t really be living or happy. And sometimes being honest means not always being happy. It’s like if you would rather be ignorant and happy, or know shit and be in constant despair. Unfortunately, I choose that bleak shit. It’s just how I roll.

Anyway, getting back to Blueprint, that’s how I see that brother, like my cousin. I’m not saying he’s clean. He just comes across as clean. He sounds like somebody who has their shit together, just that his shit is too well put together. Like his shit is so clean, it’s has to be dirty as fuck. Some people’s shit seem too perfect to be true. Or that shit is too perfect that it has to be complete bullshit. Blueprint seems like he’s always trying to school dudes, like his shit is straight up rosy. And no brother has their shit together like that. That’s why I don’t trust’em. When he says that he’s hard, he has to be lying. But I could be wrong. He could be one tough son of a bitch. Who knows.

You know who I really fear, little fuckin’ teenagers. I can’t lie. I see a pack of teenagers coming down the street, I swear I wanna react like a white woman and run to the other side. And that’s because teenagers are a bunch of crazy muthafuckas. They brains ain’t developed completely, or some shit like that. They don’t think straight. And half the time they just react. And that’s when a brother gets hurt. Like that Lord Finesse song, S.K.I.T.S., Shorties Kaught In The System, those little teenage bastards are the ones that’ll fuck you up quick, and laugh at your ass while you’re bleeding on the fuckin ground. I doubt if 30 year old dudes still beat the shit outta people for stepping on their shoes. But teenagers do.

I was driving home tonight and saw a bunch of little girls beat the shit out of another chick. They whupped her ass all the way down the street. I wanted to get out of the car and stop that shit. But I knew I didn’t wanna get my ass kicked. Who knows who one of those little beyotches is connected to. One minute I’m acting all adult like and trying to stop shit, the next minute I’m getting my ass stomped out by nine little 16 year old thug bastards trying to protect the honor of some little 14 year old slutty tramp. That shit ain’t never happened to me before, getting the shit stomped out of me by a teenager. But I’ve seen that shit happen to others. And I know I don’t want that shit happening to me.

I might have told this story before. Forgive me if I have. I was on the bus one night. I look out the window and there’s this old dude riding on a bike getting the shit beat out of him by a bunch of adolescents. Now, the dude’s getting the shit beat outta him and he’s still paddling, while some of the lil bastards are on foot, and some of the others are on their bikes, and they’re fuckin’ up this old dude all the way down the street, throwing rocks and bricks at his ass, kicking him and punching him in the face. Eventually, the ass whupping gets to be too much and the old dude topples over, and the kids surround his ass, and they’re stomping the shit out of him.

At this point, the bus stops at a red light. And everybody on the bus is looking at this shit. The weird shit is that nobody decides to get off the bus to go help the old dude, including me. And when the light turns green, the bus driver drives the fuck off without even calling anybody over the system. And the sad thing is I understand that shit because the only weird shit, the only crazy shit, that could’ve happened is that one of us decided to get brave and get off the bus, and that shit ended with one of us getting the shit kicked out of us by a crazy little bastard.

Click Me

Up for a day or 2.

What if Malcolm X had one day said that he wanted to be greater than what his creator had made him? In fact, he had progressed beyond the limits of his skin color, that he had become altogether more than black. He had transgressed the barriers of race and had become a whole new being, greater than the foundation laid before him. And he had become this way by being more white, more asian, more arabic, more everything, and less black. I bet some of you would consider that a good thing. And you would be entirely wrong.

Why? Because I said so. Ha. Actually, my mother used to say that shit all the time. Go pick up that dog shit in the yard. And I’d say, Why? And my mother would look at me like she was about to kill me. And I’d say, Why do I have to pick it up? We don’t own a dog. That’s somebody else’s dog doody. And she’d simply say, Because I said so. And that was the end of that shit. So, I’d go and pick me up some dog shit.

Anyway. Where was I going with this. Malcolm X. By becoming this amalgamation of all the goodness that existed in every race, and less of the evil that rested in any one of them, in his heart he thought he had become better than the human race. And he would only become this way by shedding the face of his heritage. He had to shun the nature of the black race in the goal of becoming greater than the human race. And the result would be that he would be the universe’s first color-blind human being.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I hate color-blind human beings. Why? Because they’re blind to the facts. And their blindness is ultimately self-inflicted. I suppose that was why I was so pissed off a while back. I felt like I had been betrayed.

See. Two of my favorite artists had expressed a notion that to better themselves, they had to transgress beyond the boundaries of hip-hop and become something new. And by becoming something new, they would eventually create something new, and in their minds, ultimately something better. Why? Because hip-hop had become common place, it had become stale, and there was no way of saving it. And it was in their best effort, for self-preservation sake, to evolve beyond the gutters of hip-hop, and become something more than hip-hop, something greater than hip-hop.

And that’s when I knew we had two traitors in the mist.

Let’s say that you were the devil, and as the devil, you were the pure embodiment of evil. Everything you did, everything you were about was evil. If you were standing on a street corner, you’d be evil; clapping your hands in a church, you’d be evil; banging a big assed hooker, you’d still be evil. Helping an old lady cross the street, listening to Britney Spears, eating a hot dog, masturbating in the bathtub, whispering sweet schizophrenic nothings in the ear of another person, you’d still be the complete embodiment of evil. Because you are evil. You are no lesser than evil, and you are no greater. Everything you are represents and defines evil.

What did KRS-One say? I AM HIP-HOP. That’s a pretty clear statement, a statement made by a man who knows who he is. At least at that moment. Who can really say about KRS-One. The man contradicts himself at every turn. Sort of like myself. So, I guess that makes him okay. Or insane. Maybe a genius. I think we’ll both take genius.

Somebody great once said never trust a man that doesn’t know himself. I don’t know who that man is. Who knows, it could of been me. But I doubt it. But still, the sentiment is pretty right on. Never trust a man that doesn’t know himself or know what he’s about. If you’re gonna be about it. Be Bout It! Bout It! I’m so ashamed of myself right now. Using crap cliche old slang shit. Makes me sick. But it still is right on.

Two men proclaimed to want to go beyond hip-hop. And by trying, they dismissed the validity of hip-hop. One man’s betrayal has led to fortune and fame, all as he sang his way to the banks and big screens, pissing on the natives, and possibly dismissing the blood brother that rose with him. The other was met by critical acclaim, but audience displeasure, as he slowly saw fit to return to his roots, to his home land even, to regain what he has now proclaimed his basement elevation.

The future only holds if either man will ever regain their pass back within the confines of the promise land. Few traitors are ever welcomed back. Although, I did like seeing Tony Almeida back as the the big dog at CTU. But that’s some crap for another day.

Added these two back to the site.

Doom - Leftovers
Doom - Mm More Food

I think I’ll make them permanent for the time being, at least as long as my bandwidth holds up.

As you can see up top, I’ve added a couple of new links. One is the replacement for the nfo site. I decided to host it on blogspot because angelfire was getting crazy with the banners and pop-unders. I haven’t been updating it regularly as of late, and I didn’t see me doing it in the future. Plus, very few people ever went there anyway. So, I’ve started to add some links, one or two a day. Plus, I’ll update the nfo listing whenever.

The second is for a tracker. I think I might use a tracker in the future and I just wanted to test out this thing called blogtorrent. You can run it on a remote server, and it takes nothing to install. Unfortunately the interface is crap. Plus, the design needs work. If I ever publicly post something, I’ll just post the torrent here.

Bittorrent 4.0

I don’t use it, but it’s the original.

This is a sampler. These are not complete songs. The majority of them cut off at around a minute or so. I think this was the sampler that was being sold at Fanatik’s website.

This is not the same release that came out last year. This is actually snippets of the recordings Keith was actually creating for the Dr. Octagon album that was supposed to have been released last year, or maybe year before last. Apparently the real Octagon album has been held up in legal crap. It was supposed to have come out on CMH Records, but some weird shit happened. Something like Keith didn’t want the shit to come out after he had signed a deal wih the label, or that he wanted the shit redone or remixed by Kutmasta Kurt, or he wanted to change distribution companies. It was some weird shit.

I also think nobody really got paid for this shit either. Anyone, CMH said Fuck Them! And decided to put this shit out anyway. But I guess some legal shit happened that prevented them from actually releasing it. Or maybe, they actually heard the shit and decided that they weren’t putting this bullshit out. As you can see, I really don’t know shit in the true blogger sense. It’s all speculation.

So, here’s the shit. It ain’t half bad. I had heard some completely bad shit about this. But it ain’t half bad. But I guess you can decide.

Kool Keith - The Return Of Dr. Octagon (Sampler)

Bastards. Sons-of-beyotches say I owe’em. They say I owe’em three fuckin’ cents. That’s right, three fuckin cents. They holdin’ my shit hostage until I pay’em. All because you assholes needed to look at titties and ass. Assholes. I’m done with you. No more love for you. No more love for anybody. Only hate. I only got hate and venom left for you assholes. That’s why I’ll never give you shit like this ever again. Fuck you. We are now enemies.

Had to spend the whole fuckin’ week setting up a new site to traffic my shit through. Fuckin’ dns errors and bullshit. I wasn’t able to converse with my peeps like I wanted. Now, I never wanna talk to you assholes ever again. I hate you like Satan hates Jesus. Except I’m Jesus, turning over shit, having wet dreams about reformed hoes. Or former children with destiny.

I had this dream last night. Me and Beyonce were girlfriend and boyfriend. And she wanted a baby really bad. She used to have her best friend over all the time, Kelly. Me, Beyonce and Kelly would chill out in the bedroom and hang and talk and do shit. Beyonce and Kelly were really close. You know what kind of close I’m talking about. And Beyonce, one night, after having sex with me, took the used condom I had thrown in the trash, and used one of those turkey juicer thingies, and sucked the love juice out of the condom, and squirted it in her womanly parts. And she went and got herself pregnant with my kid.

She told me she was pregnant. And I wondered how she got pregnant, especially since I used a condom. And I figured it out, that she had sucked my stuff out the condom and put it in her. I was devastated. How could Beyonce do a brother like that. But I stayed with her. And I took her down to the City Hall and married her ass. Then, right before the baby was due, she leaves and takes her ass back to Texas. Now, her parents can’t stand me, because I got their little girl pregnant. And they’re hating on me, stopping me from visiting her. So, I stay my ass up north, at least until the baby’s due. Then I go down to Texas, but I can’t stay with her. So, I stay with Kelly. And Kelly comforts me. And one day, we up and have some freaky sex.

Now the babies due. And I go to the hospital. Everybody’s there. Beyonce has my child, a baby girl. I hold her for awhile. Then, I go and be with Beyonce. I stay for another month. Then, I decide to head back up north, and hopefully never see the kid again. I send money and shit, but I never see the kid again. Now I do this shit because I know how fucked up I am, and I should never hold the life of another human being in my hands. I decide that Beyonce and my kid would be better off if I didn’t fight for them. Let Beyonce find another man, a good man, a man who can take care of her and her baby. Because I know I can never be that person.

Today’s topic. We’re in some early year lull when it comes to music. Shit is just on the horizon, but it just hasn’t gotten here, yet. There’s the new Queens of the Stone Age, and Beck, and 50 Cent, all, I believe, will be dropping new shit in March, or maybe late February. But until then, we’re stuck with the quiet before the storm. Or the quiet storm. That doesn’t really work. The quiet before the storm… fuck it.

I haven’t really heard anything that has made me jump out of my seat lately. Some jerked off to that Prefuse shit. But like I say, white hip-hop wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for the Internet. I could be wrong. But I doubt it. Not to say that that Prefuse shit doesn’t have promise, but that shit really isn’t tops on my list. Neither is that Sage Francis I’ve seen floating around.

There has been one release that I’ve enjoyed. But there’s very little white about it. Which means it’s gotten very little publicity. And that’s Rapper Big Pooh’s Sleepers. If you liked Little Brother’s The Listening, which I didn’t, then you’ll love this shit.

I hate shit that comes out with a really big build up, because that shit usually never lives up to the hype. And Little Brother was just that. There were a few decent cuts on that shit, but the majority of that shit was average. I definitely saw potential in 9th Wonder, but The Listening wasn’t his best work. And that’s a good thing.

People wanted to compare that shit to when Tribe, or De La Soul came out. But it may have more in comparison to Common’s Can I Borrow A Dollar. They both were releases that showed promise, lyrically and production wise. And hopefully like Common and No I.D., Little Brother’s second effort can eventually reach the promise, the hype that was laid upon their first release.

Unfortunately, many people invest a lot of emotional crap in certain artist. The hype behind Little Brother came about because so many people were looking for something resembling the look and feel and sound of much of that shit that came out in the early to mid-90s. Questlove, from the Roots, was one of them. Many were saying for many years previous that hip-hop was dead. And these same people were looking for something, anything, to grab ahold to, anything that could tell them that what they were feeling was wrong.

It’s similar to neo-soul. There’s no such thing as neo-soul. And the neo-soul movement never really existed. But many people wanted the return of those old school classics. And none of them could bring themselves to the conclusion that all that old shit is dead.

The same with Nas. Every time that brother puts an album out, people fight over the significance of that shit. And many of us in our right mind know that everything that brother has put out since Illmatic has sucked. And some of us are so sane to note that Illmatic wasn’t really all that. But brothers need a savior. And each time he drops something, they claim classic, and backtrack from that shit when they come to their senses a year or so later.

Brothers wanted Stillmatic to be hot. Some called it five-star. And then when God’s Son came out, brothers were claiming it was the return of Nas. And last year, brothers finally came up with the shit that Street’s Disciple is the album where Nas excels. The messiah can only come back so many time before it’s considered bullshit. And I think we should all finally come to the conclusion that it’s all bullshit.

I have to tell myself that shit every day. Because we will never see the golden age of hip-hop ever again. We will never see the mid-90s ever again. The block party is dead. Spinning on linoleum is dead. All that shit is dead. Live with it, beyotches. Get over it. Maybe then, and only then, will acts like Little Brother be able to excel without being held back by nostagia. Because nobody can live up to the fake greatness of the past.