With the hype that has been surrounding the long awaited sequel to Raekwon the Chef's, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx... I have been confused as to what Hip Hop purists have been complaining about.
Last night I was conversing with my brother, biblicallynice.blogspot.com, about what it is that is making everyone say that this was/is a 'good look' for hip hop. Do not misunderstand what I am saying, the album is a solid effort and without sounding retro, it brought me back to a place I forgot. The hard, gritty sounds of people that are hungry and dedicated, who lead real lives before/ throughout their entry to the 'game' and have things to discuss. Delicately balancing the ill's of their behaviours, environs, and circumstances with the fact that they still must do what they have to do to survive. That being... selling crack. I mean the nigga's name is the Chef. Is it this ephemeral past we are holding on to, that has us thinking that, as long as the artist is not lying about the amount of money they have and their level in the drug dealing hierarchy, or the fact that they were actually middle-class but, in order to sell they must fabricate the realities of the impoverished that rhyming about selling crack and the projects is a step in the right direction for us?
Pyrex visions, birds flying south, bricks, kilos, cubans, columbians, crackheads... It's all the same.
Yea, I still own that shit, though; don't get it twisted.
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