What the fuck is going on in the rap game? The hip-hop genre, which started as a musical outlet for street struggles, has spiraled out of control resulting in more of a focus on beats than lyrics. Instrumental tracks are impressive and the nuance producers can employ in their music is awe-inspiring. But when I hit play on the new Future album, I want substance, the hardship. I want a musical art form that makes me picture the fight, not a contemporary Hans Zimmer. The latest attempt to gain “badass” recognition in the hip-hop community is this fucking Chris Brown v. Soulja Boy fight. Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me. And let’s be real for a second here. This ‘fight’, has the makings to be the stupidest event to ever waste 10 minutes of my already wasted life. We’ve gone from street shootings of rival rap gangs to fake fucking fights spurred by Instagram comments. Holy shit. Kill me now. First of all, the reasoning behind this “showdown of the century week” is the most ridiculous thing EVER. Soulja commented on one of CB’s old girl’s Instagram photos. “Ok, Bobby, then what happened? Did they do some real gangsta shit and have some contemporary version of Suge Knight bring the hammer down to rep their rival gangs and/or record labels?” soulja-boyNope. They alternated recording selfie videos threatening to “beat each other’s asses” and things of the sort while sitting on their $10k couches in their $10m Malibu homes. What the hell happened to “rolling up on a n*gga” when they said some shit to your girl? We’ve lost many a great rapper to fights over protection of their street cred which was completely warranted in their days. Biggie, Nas, 2Pac, Cube, all of Wu-Tang and NWA these dudes would literally kill other human beings to protect their cred. Soulja Boy and Chris Brown, on the other hand, have the street cred of a zucchini. The smidgen of cred that Soulja can call on is his time in jail for an unregistered firearm, but then again, that’s not gangster, it’s just being a retard. But don’t let the magnitude, or lack thereof, of the crime detract from the infinite street knowledge Soulja acquired about himself and true blood gang wisdom while “in the joint” (which may or may not be nicer than your neighborhood country club). Chris Brown has at least gotten shot in Stop the yard, so that doesn’t really count. And at least CB knows how to throw a punch, even if it is in the general direction of a woman. What the fuck happened to real rap beef? We’re literally seeing the reflection of the pussy ass millennial generation in the pussy ass rap beef that has manifested itself through social media.

Nowadays all you need is a buddy with a basement and a mediocre production set up to mutter a few inaudible grunts and moans about codeine cough syrup. A rap game with little to no entry barriers has created a genre of faux-gangster invertebrates with private high school struggles and a backdoor addiction to mom’s painkillers (e.g. The latest iteration in the Savage Saga what are they on, 38 Savage?). Bring me back the real struggle. Bring me back the real rap game.

Bobby O’Callahan


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