Xah Lee, 20031107
Recently i've been listening to the radio a lot, and one of the channel i listen to is a “WILD 94.9 (FM) Party Station” (wild949.com) in San Jose area (California, USA). It is a black station that repeatedly plays the top hip-hop rap pop songs. I have not watched TV since about 1998, and hardly follow pop music of any type except overhearing them in stores or radio, so i'm not at all familiar what are the pop songs or singers out there are, and have hardly ever listened to rap in my life.
One of the top song played all the time on the hip-hop station is “Holidae In”, a rap type of song, featuring a white female cooing “Whachu doin?” with a particular accent perhaps Mature Valley Girl in heat. This is a particularly comely song because of its sexual sound. One gets curious after hearing it all the time about what it sayz. I found that the lyrics of which goes thus:
By Chingy↗, from the album “Jackpot”.
Bomb ass pussy
Ma ooh you got that bomb, know you got it
Ma ooh, you got some bomb ass pussy
Ma I know you got that bomb bomb pussy
[Chorus: Snoop] + (Girl)
(Whachu doin?) Nothing chillin at the Holidae In
(Who you wit?) Me and my peeps won't you bring four of your friends
(What we gon' do?) Feel on each other and sip on some Hen
One thing leading to another let the party begin
[Verse 1: Chingy]
Peeps call me up {*phone ring*} said it's a ho-tel party
Just bring the liquor there's already eight shawties
I'm on my way (way) let me stop by the store
Get a 12 pack of Corona, plus an ounce of 'dro, ya know?
Now I'm on Highway 2-7 need a natural graze road
I'm already blowed, hit third I'm a be be blowed some mo'
Pulled up, stop parked, rims still spinning
Valet look like he in the game and must be winning
To room 490 I'm headed, on my way up
There's three girls on the elevator like “wassup”
I told em follow me they knew I had it cracking B
One said “ain't you that boy that be on BET?”
“Ya that's me, Ching-a-ling equipped wit much ding-a-ling”
Knock on the door I'm on the scene of things
Busted in, Henny bottle to the face!
Fuck it then, feel like my head a toxic waste
There's some pretty girls in herre, I heard em whispering
Talking bout “that's that dude that sing 'Right Thurr' he glistening”
I ain't come to talk (talk) I ain't come to sit (sit)
What I came for was to find out who I'm gon hit, aww shit
[Chorus: Snoop + Chingy]
[Verse 2: Chingy]
Ma showed up like “what's the hold up?”
Man know what get them wraps and roll up
I took a chick in the bathroom seeing what's poppin
You know what's on my mind, shirts off and panties dropping
Niggaz knocking on the door drunk, and silly
The girl said “can I be in yo video” I'm like “yeah!”, “oh really?”
Now she naked strip teasing, me I'm just cheesing
She gave me a reason to be a damn heathen
Handled that, told ol' G, bring tha camera
Then I thought about, no footage while I ram her
Walked out the bathroom smiling, cats still whiling
Sharing the next room wit some girls lookin like they from an island
[Chorus: Snoop + Chingy]
[Verse 3: Ludacris]
Stop, drop, KABOOM!, baby rub on ya nipples
Some call me Ludacris, some call me Mr. Wiggles
Far from little, make ya mammary glands giggle
Got 'em under control, the bowl of tender biddles
Doc-tor giggles, I can't stop until it tickles
Just play a little “D” and I'll make ya mouth dribble
Bits and Kibbles, got 'em all after the pickle
I swing it like a bat, but these balls are not whiffle
Hit 'em in triples, wit no strikes, stripes, or whistles
I ain't felt this good, since my wood lived off a thistle
Sippin' some ripple, I got quarters, dimes, and nickels
For shizzle dizzle, I'm on a track with the Big Snoop Dizzle
Let the Henny trickle, down the beat, wit a ghetto tempo
I done blazed the instrumental, laid it plain and simple
Getting brain in the rental, I done did it again
My eyes chinky, I'm wit Chingy, at the Holidae In
[Chorus: Snoop + Chingy]
[Outro: Snoop Dogg]
Yeah, let the party begin, bitch
Ching-a-ling Ling, all the way in St. Louis
My nigga Chingy, Disturbing Tha Peace
Luda, Luda, going hard on you hoes
Yeah bitch, bring four of ya friends
Meet me at the Holidae In
Bring a gang of that Hen, some DSOP
Oh wee, and light that sticky icky
And we gone do the damn thing
Now what I'm talking bout
We gon' disturb the peace right now
Yeah we ain't doing nothing but chillin
We chillin' and nuttin'
Know what I'm talking bout, so push the button
You know what's happenin', fa shizzle, uh huh
Yeah bitch, trying to run from this pimpin'
You can't out run the pimpin' bitch, I done told you
YouTube search: Holidae In,Chingy↗
Fantastically raw. I like this song. I like frenzy dance pop. Pure animalistic frenzy, cooling my complicated philosophical brain, and these fuck-slinging rap pieces soothes me proper, with their sexuality explicitness sans ado.
The cover of the album containing Holidae In. (amazon.com↗)
Another piece, which began with a female singing with a raspy voice blurred with radio statics in the background then came male rap. This female voice is just so very attractive to me, and i have wonedered if that radio statics came from poor reception and or if there is just a clear version of her singing, or if her singing and the follow up rap are two different songs. I couldn't make out exactly the lyrics or what the song is about at all. The station don't usually say what song is playing, probably because their listeners knew and it ain't cool to spill. I spent 2 hours on the web eventually identified this piece with pieces of lyrics that i made out. Here's the complete lyrics:
Artist: 2PAC, (featuring Notorious BIG). Album: Resurrection (2003).
[Chorus]
You know, I wonder if they'll laugh when I am dead
Why am I fighting to live, if I'm just living to fight
Why am I trying to see, when there aint nothing in sight
Why am I trying to give, when no one gives me a try
Why am I dying to live, if I'm just living to die
[Notorious B.I.G.] Check it, I grew up a fuckin screw up Got introduced to the game, got a ounce and fuckin blew up Choppin rocks overnight The nigga Biggie Smalls tryin ta turn into the black Frank White We had to grow dreads to change our description Two cops is on the milk box missin Show they toes you know they got stepped on A fist full of bullets a chest full of Teflon Run from the police picture that, nigga I'm too fat I fuck around and catch a asthma attack That's why I bust back, it don't phase me When he drop, take his glock, and I'm Swayze Celebrate, my escape, sold the glock, bought some weight Laid back, I got some money to make, motherfucker
[2pac] Its on me And still I'm havin memories of high speeds, when the cops crashed As I laugh pushin the gas when my glocks blast We was young, and we was dumb but we had heart In the dark when we survived through the bad parts Many dreams is what I had, and many wishes No hesitation in extermination of these snitches And these bitches they still continue to persue me A couple of movies now the whole world tryin to screw me even the cops tried to sue me So what can I do but stay true, sippin 22's a brewin now the medias tryin to test me got the press askin questions, tryin to stress me misery is all I see, thats my mind's state My history with the police is shakin' the crime rate Ma main man had 2 strikes, slipped, got arrested and flipped He screamed 'Thug Life!' and emptied a clip gots tired of runnin from the motherfuckin police
YouTube search: Runnin, 2pac↗
Oh ho MY GOD! I thought this is a love song, not realizing what wretchedness and persecution it expresses. I love this piece evermore.
This “runnin' (dying to live)” is in the album Resurrection. (amazon.com↗)
This piece is just too strong and i started to find out who is Tupac. One thing led into another, and pretty soon it is a story of gangsters and the black and rap community. As i have learned, Tupack is dead, and the “Notorious B I G” (aka Biggie Smalls, Christopher Wallace) featured in this song is also dead. Both are murdered and unsolved. L A Times ran a “Who Killed 2PAC” by Chuck Philips in 2002 claiming that the then-alive Notorius B I G is behind 2Pac's murder: http://www.alleyezonme.com/news/news584.phtml but the article itself is quite disputed. As it is, there are lots of theories and speculations out there, some will have you believe 2pac is not dead as Elvis is not dead. All in all, one thing we can be sure is that many of the rappers and gansgers are quite intertwined. What a intriguing world. One can go from destitute ghetto to a millionaire rapper and still be heavily involved in gangs. Perhaps, one's background and ways of life is hard to change. It ain't just a matter of poverty.
In hindsight, looking back at this song “runnin'” published posthumously, its lyrics, it's rather a eulogy, of 2Pac and Notorious BIG.
For more info, see: Tupac Shakur↗, Notorious BIG↗,
* * *
I spent now about 6 hours looking at the various lyrics of the top rap songs that i liked from the radio. Here's one with the constant chant “when i move you move”. It is by Ludacris, and the song is called “Stand Up”. The lyrics here don't mean much, but oh the eroticism in the sound. Black girls have the voice down.
Artist: Ludacris↗. Album: chicken & beer (~2003).
[Intro] Stand up! Stand up! Stand up! Stand up! [Chorus: Ludacris and (girl)] When I move you move (just like that?) When I move you move (just like that?) When I move you move (just like that?) Hell yeah! Hey DJ bring that back! [Verse - 1] How you ain't gon' FUCK! bitch out me? I'm the GOD DAMN reason you in VIP CEO you don't have to see ID I'm young, wild, and strapped like Chi-Ali BLAOW! We ain't got nothing to worry about Whoop ass, let security carry em out Watch out for the medallion my diamonds are wreckless Feels like a MIDGET is hanging from my neckless I pulled up wit a million trucks Looking, smelling, feeling like a million bucks-ahh! Pass the bottles, the heat is on We in the huddle all smoking that Cheech & Chong What's wrong?! The club and moon is full And I'm lookin for a THICK young lady to pull One sure shot way to get em outta them pants Take note to the brand new dance, like this [Chorus] [Verse - 2] Go on wit ya big ass! lemme see something Tell ya little friend he can quit mean mugging I'm lit and I don't care what no one thinks But where the FUCK is the waitress at wit my drinks?! My people outside and they can't get in We gon' rush the back door and break em in The owner already pissed cause we sorta late But our time and our clothes gotta coordinate Most girls lookin right some lookin a mess That's why they spilling drinks all over ya dress But Louie Vuitton bras all over your breasts Got me wanting to put hickies all over ya chest-ahh C'mon! we gon party tonight Y'all use mouth to mouth bring the party to life Don't be scurred, show another part of your life The more drinks in your system the harder to fight! [Chorus] [Verse - 3] Damn right the Fire Marshall wanna shut us down Get us out so someone can gun us down We was two songs away from getting some cutta Now we one song away from tearing da club up Move over! Luda got something to say Do it now cause 'tomorrow' ain't promised 'today' Work wit me! let's become one with the beat And don't worry bout me steppin all over ya feet
YouTube search: Stand Up,Ludacris↗
Chicken & Beer is the album containing the song Stand Up. (When i move you move) Cute white chicken. Though, the leg apparently is from a black chick.
* * *
Another, “What's your fantasy”, is also on the top. It is another fine piece by Ludacris. It goes:
[Ludacris] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Give it to me now, give it to me now give it to me now, give it to me now [Shawna] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Give it to me now, give it to me now give it to me now.. [Chorus: Ludacris] I wanna, li-li-li-lick you from yo' head to yo' toes And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flo' [Chorus: Shawna] Then I wanna, ahh ahh - you make it so good I don't wanna leave But I gotta, kn-kn-kn-know what-what's your fan-ta-ta-sy [Ludacris] I wanna get you in the Georgia Dome on the fifty yard line while the Dirty Birds kick for t'ree And if you like in the club we can do it in the DJ booth or in the back of the V.I.P. Whipped cream with cherries and strawberries on top Lick it don't stop, keep the door locked while the boat rock We go-bots and robots so they gotta wait til the show stop or how 'bout on the beach with black sand lick up your thigh then call me the Pac Man Table top or just give me a lap dance The Rock to the Park to the Point to the Flatlands That man Ludacris (woo) in the public bathroom or in back of a classroom how ever you want it lover lover gonna tap that ass soon see I cast 'em and I past 'em get a tight grip and I grasp 'em I flash 'em and out last 'em and if ain't good then I trash 'em while you stash 'em I'll let 'em free and the tell me what they fantasy like up on the roof roof tell yo boyfriend not to be mad at me [Ludacris] I wanna get you in the bath tub with the candle lit you give it up till they go out or we can do it on stage of the Ludacris concert cause you know I got sold out or red carpet dick could just roll out go 'head and scream you can't hold out we can do it in the pouring rain runnin the train when it's hot or cold out how 'bout in the library on top of books but you can't be too loud you wanna make a brother beg for it give me TLC 'cause you know I be too proud we can do it in the white house tryna make them turn the lights out champaign with my campaign let me do the damn thing what's my name, what's my name, what's my name a sauna, jacuzzi in the back row at the movie You can stratch my back and rule me You can push me or just pull me on hay in middle of the barn (woo) rose pedals on the silk sheets uh eating fresh fruits sweep yo woman right off her feet [Chorus] [Ludacris] I wanna get you in the back seat windows up that's the way you like to fuck, clogged up fog alert Rip the pants and rip the shirt, ruff sex make it hurt in the garden all in the dir Roll around Georgia Brown that's the way I like it twerk Legs jerk, overworked, underpaid but don't be afraid In the sun or up in the shade on the top of my escalade Maybe your girl and my friend can trade; tag team, off the ropes! On the ocean or in the boat! Factories or on hundred spokes! What about up in the candy sto' that chocolate chocolate make it melt Whips and chains, handcuffs, smack a little booty up with my belt Scream help play my game; dracula man I'll get my fangs Horseback and I'll get my reigns, school teacher let me get my brains
YouTube search: What's Your Fantasy,ludacris↗
* * *
Another hip-hop by a black chick, has the following ear-catching lines:
My milk shake brings all the boys to the yard, and they are like, its better than yours, damn right its better than yours, i can teach you, but i have to charge!
YouTube search: Milkshake,Kelis↗
This song is by Kelis↗ , titled Milk Shake. Sweet. From the lyrics, it seems to be addressed to other females, some kind of female rivalry. Except this catchy phrase, this song is rather dull. I also happened to have watched its video, very lackluster too.
* * *
Here's another top hit “Baby Boy” by a black woman Beyonce Knowles↗. As far as i know, hip-hop by black chicks are not as violent or howling as their beau. The lyrics of Baby Boy doesn't say much. It just has this memorable chant:
Baby boy you stay on my mind, Fulfill my fantasy, I think about you all the time, I see you in my dreams. (see you in my dream) Baby boy not a day goes by, Without my fantasy, I think about you all the time, I see you in my dreams. (see you in my dream)
YouTube search: Baby Boy,Beyonce Knowles↗
* * *
Another song on the radio all the time, is named “P.I.M.P.” by 50 cent↗. The song has a reggae beat. The song's about (a pimp) dealing with the pussy sex. The lyrics is spectacularly raw and i love it.
[Chorus] I don't know what you heard about me But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see That I'm a motherfucking P-I-M-P [Repeat] [Verse 1] Now shorty, she in the club, she dancing for dollars She got a thing for that Gucci, that Fendi, that Prada That BCBG, Burberry, Dolce and Gabana She feed them foolish fantasies, they pay her cause they wanna I spit a little G man, and my game got her A hour later, have that ass up in the Ramada Them trick niggas in her ear saying they think about her I got the bitch by the bar trying to get a drink up out her She like my style, she like my smile, she like the way I talk She from the country, think she like me cause I'm from New York I ain't that nigga trying to holla cause I want some head I'm that nigga trying to holla cause I want some bread I could care less how she perform when she in the bed Bitch hit that track, catch a date, and come and pay the kid Look baby this is simple, you can't see You fucking with me, you fucking with a P-I-M-P [Chorus] [Verse 2] I'm bout my money you see, girl you can holla at me If you fucking with me, I'm a P-I-M-P Not what you see on TV, no Cadillac, no greasy Head full of hair, bitch I'm a P-I-M-P Come get money with me, if you curious to see how it feels to be with a P-I-M-P Roll in the Benz with me, you could watch TV From the backseat of my V, I'm a P-I-M-P Girl we could pop some champagne and we could have a ball We could toast to the good life, girl we could have it all We could really splurge girl, and tear up the mall If ever you needed someone, I'm the one you should call I'll be there to pick you up, if ever you should fall If you got problems, I can solve'em, they big or they small That other nigga you be with ain't bout shit I'm your friend, your father, and confidant, BITCH [Chorus] [Verse 3] I told you fools before, I stay with the tools I keep a Benz, some rims, and some jewels I holla at a hoe til I got a bitch confused She got on Payless, me I got on gator shoes I'm shopping for chinchillas, in the summer they cheaper Man this hoe you can have her, when I'm done I ain't gon keep her Man, bitches come and go, every nigga pimpin know You saying it's secret, but you ain't gotta keep it on the low Bitch choose with me, I'll have you stripping in the street Put my other hoes down, you get your ass beat Now Nik my bottom bitch, she always come up with my bread The last nigga she was with put stitches in her head Get your hoe out of pocket, I'll put a charge on a bitch Cause I need 4 TVs and AMGs for the six Hoe make a pimp rich, I ain't paying bitch Catch a date, suck a dick, shiiit, TRICK [Chorus] Yeah, in Hollywoood they say there's no b'ness like show b'ness In the hood they say, there's no b'ness like hoe b'ness ya know They say I talk a lil fast, but if you listen a lil faster I ain't got to slow down for you to catch up, BITCH
YouTube search: PIMP, 50 cent↗
* * *
American Heritage Dict defines hip-hop as: Slang n. 1. The popular street culture of big-city and especially inner-city youth, characterized by graffiti art, break dancing, and rap music.
One will note that this culture's diction and accent. The “g” in “ing” ending of what's called “present particle of verbs” by grammarians (intellectual morons) is dropped to be just “in”, 2 for to, u for you, c for see, flo for floor, and in general ending consonants are dropped.
One of the song by Youngbloodz↗ called Damn has this chant phrase: “if you don't give a damn; we don't give a fuck”. It means: doesn't matter you give a damn or no, they don't give a fuck (about you).
To get some acquaintance with the cultural underdog sector of the gamut of human animal societies, Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing↗ (1989) and Larry Clark Kids↗ (1995) and Uli Edel Last Exit to Brooklyn↗ (1989) do wonders.
Related essays:
Page created: 2003-10. © 2003 by Xah Lee. (excluding mirrored pages or images.)
