Shit’s changed.

I’ve changed. Over the last year my taste within Rap has gone from repping the South to disregarding almost everything. I’m barely enthused to hear a new song from my favorites. This thing of getting leaks of singles and mixtapes seems planned almost. I expect once a week to be bombarded with songs to listen to and the rest of the week’s offerings tasting like lukewarm leftovers—shit, if I listen to them!?! I can count on one hand the mixtapes I’ve enjoyed this year. The billboard toppers aren’t even from hit single makers like Nelly or JD, they’re from deadening acts such as Da Shop Boyz and Mims. With all these push backs it doesn’t look like the labels’ hold is easing—this feeling isn’t going away.

I emphasize the trash that’s been floating around this year, okay but I’m sure that has to do with my transition too. It’s odd because while all my favorite acts from this year are brand new to me, I was slow to catch on to them. Was I slow or did I finally move towards them with an open ear. Before this year I vouched for almost everything from the South. But no, the South is fucking… post pending. Dipset’s done. D-Block’s washed up. Jay's still here but I'm not in the mood. Nas may be wise but he's dried up. Other stalwarts are becoming irrelevant.

If it wasn’t for Termanology, Skyzoo, Bishop Lamont, Lupe Fiasco, Little Brother, Crooked I, Joell Ortiz, Joe Budden, Apathy and Mally, I don’t know where I would be. I’d probably be listening to Rascal Flatts (okay, someone can shoot me). Looking at that list, you can understand the change. I mean it went from Weezy* & Camron to them. 'Aw-man' is right!

I’m cautious, guarded. When I surf these days I don’t want to hear this trash. That’s like common sense you ask? Not necessarily. When you’re feeling the way I have been lately, more and more of what you used to consider good/decent gets tossed into the trash pile. I would like to distance myself from those wasted hours bumping Paul Wall or a—singular—Jody Breeze track.

My priorities have changed. It’s not like I’m going to go Master P on shit and be like "I can’t listen to swear words" but I’m through with all these metaphors about drugs, women, cars etc. Do I need to hear Hell Rell talk about Porches or cooking up crack? I will never have the stupidity or situation in life where I needed to remember Hell’s line on how to stir it—shit’s not important. I’m not a bunk young dime bag hustler who rolls a Charger after working my strip mall job that has Hynotiq visions!

Even if you don’t dig and act like these dudes are speaking to you, they’re just glorifying a life of someone who peaked at 24 and will be working as a mechanic in 6 years. Hell Rell speaks for you? His shit is hard? Joc is a party starter? Mobb Deep just bangs? Plies is real? If rappers really wanted to hit a nerve they’d wax poetic, be introspective—say something meaningful about their blurbs on record. These wack rappers make you feel like you’re nowhere and nobody. They belittle you with vicarious illusions of flying high and living on yachts. Shit’s meaningless to me.

With the amount of rappers out nowadays too, it doesn’t help. Being into the underground/mixtape scene for a few years now, I’ve seen very little progress. Papoose still doesn’t have an album out. Smitty is still trying to get people to just respect him. Slim Thug is still—where is he in fact? Not many dudes stand out from the crowd. Like Bossman out of Baltimore and Big Lou for instance, they’ve been on my radar for a minute now. But nothing makes me go ‘oooh’.

Nothing seems personal to me anymore.

When Joey hit on every line with "Last Real Nigga Left" earlier this year, he raised the bar for everything I listen to. If your music doesn’t hit on a certain level be that content, style, beats, flow, I won’t get behind you. I can tell by the way dudes come in on the track and flow. There’s a certain amount of conviction they rhyme with that attracts me, keeps and holds my attention. You have to be going somewhere with your songs. All these cats out nowadays seem to be dead set on making one hit that gets them a little cake rather than making it there on their own words, feet and back.