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This is the 1st installment of what will likely be a pretty regular feature of this blog, Essential Verses. Essential Songs, Essential Albums, etc will come. But first up, Essential Verses: “Beneath dilapidated wood…”

♪♫ "On & on, and on & on... my lyrics get strong when I put this on." ♫♪

Before he was 3000, and before he was regularly included on the lists of the elite emcees, Andre Benjamin dropped  a guest verse on a Goodie M.O.B. single released in ’98 that signaled the arrival of that dude everybody would be really talking about once Aquemini dropped later that year. Read the rest of this entry »


  1. Erykah Badu is the Queen of Hip-Hop Soul. Period. Nobody in the last decade has put out more hip-hop-heavy soul bangers than Badu. And Mary J. Blige  can’t even rap. She is damn near one soft sax riff away from exile to the island of Adultcontemporaronia. Marrying ugly and making up sh*t like “dancerie” don’t make you hip-hop.

    Yes, yes, y'all.

  2. Ass never gets old. Badu’s windowed-seat aside, look at this. Just look at it. I have no idea who she is or what she does for a living. Doesn’t even matter. She could rescue pets from shelters just to throat-chop ’em in the car. Still great. Here too. And here. These women could be selling guns to terrorists. She could be Osama’s beard-dresser. Who cares. And another. I swear it seems with every year that passes, Ass somehow manages to get newer. It’s like a paradox or something.
  3. Robin Thicke needs to cut his f*cking hair. Dude cannot be out here singing these sweet R&B tunes to black women, looking like Jason Priestly’s more handsome brother. Not in this era. Jon B. knew better. Timberlake gets it. Even Chico Debarge figured it out, and he’s just half a white dude. You can crossover, but show some respect to the men of the women you are singing to… Got them dreaming about running their fingers through that silky shit… smh. Probably smells good too. Fuck that: I take hair any higher than a Caesar on a white R&B singer as a direct threat to Black Power. Read the rest of this entry »

One compelling theory as to why your sound is pussy.

Some weeks ago I caught DJ Babu  in Chicago. If you don’t know, Babu is the DJ 1/3 of the rap group Dilated Peoples (filled out by emcees Evidence and Iriscience). Dilated Peoples, if you don’t know, are a popular underground hip-hop group from California, of whose records regular folk will most likely remember either or both of these  This Way (ft. Kanye West) and Worst Come to Worst. Among heads, Evidence is known as probably the only dude to go back at Eminem and come out better for it. Among goatee-aficionados, Iriscience is known as probably the only black dude to place regularly in the annual Captain Lou Albano Chin-Off. And among turntablists, Babu is known as a beast on the wheels (as well as the inventor of the term). Now I’m not really the biggest fan of Dilated as a group, but Babu also is a member of the Beat Junkies, and most importantly was one of the two DJs responsible for the sequence, blends, and cuts on the greatest mixtape of all time (disagree? fight me). So I check for Babu when I can.

Babu, hip-hop standard-bearer and spokesmodel.

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