I miss you.
As I sit here listening to Drake's connected ass talk about how he started from the bottom, I realize how much I miss your old ways. I miss the days of rappers kickin' what they knew. I miss the days of you being "the black man's CNN". I miss your storytelling, so evident in "Gorgy Porgy" or "The Message". I miss your well placed raunch and your style; how you talked about sex without making it so...horrible.
Damn, Hip Hop. What happened?
Was it money? Was there was more money in calling black women bitches and hoes than promoting pop lockin' and having fun? Was there more money in telling black men to shoot 'em up rather than telling them to fight the power? Was there more money in letting the Jimmy Iovine's and the Clive Davis' of the world run the music that was created on the streets of Brooklyn? Was there more money in spitting lines about date rape? Or in telling our sons how to "treat a girl"? Maybe there was more money in shitting on the memory of our youth?
Was it love? Did the black community not buy enough units? Did the bootlegging started by those trying to hustle make you leave? Did the promises of white Pre-tween money make you change your mind about the road Hip Hop was traveling on? I just....Hip Hop, I don't understand. You've always been a voice. Such an inspiration. From the moment I was allowed to listen to you, you permeated my soul and wrapped yourself around my heart. Hip Hop, I was in love with you.
This ain't about a few rappers in the past few years. This is about the past two decades, Hip Hop. Two. Decades.
Something has got to give, my love. Something has got to give......
This ain't about a few rappers in the past few years. This is about the past two decades, Hip Hop. Two. Decades.
Something has got to give, my love. Something has got to give......
