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Everybody is mad about Trinidad James talking shit on a New York City stage last night. He said that Atlanta was the boss of rap. That the South is king because New York rappers don’t sell records anymore. And now all of the rappers in New York have their panties in a bunch. Maino, for instance—a gentleman true to his word—let Trinidad know that he would essentially tap his jaw and straighten him out.

Photo of New York rapper Maino.

Here’s what I have to say: you rap motherfuckers are all a bunch of fucking slaves.

Everything is about record sales. Right. Because records sales are a true measure of your success. But really, none of you negroes OWN SHIT! And you’re out here hating on one another and talking shit and making threats. “We sell more records than you! We are better than you! Nobody cares about what you have to say because nobody is buying your records!”

Guess what: the more you sell the happier your master is, Trinidad. Your music is so fucking inspirational and transformational and life changing…you’re an inspiration to black men and humans in general. You are a magnificent entertainer. Your teeth are amazing. And yeah, you’re selling more records than Joey Badass. Good for you, ‘Lil Homie. You are better than all of the rappers in New York and everyone in New York should bow down to you because you are now the king.

Photo of former Mayor of New York City Michael Bloomberg.

Black rappers: get off of this king of New York bullshit. Bloomberg is the King, even when he isn’t in office. Jay Z no longer owns a miniscule piece of the Nets. Blade is no longer hitting trains—now Blade, he was a KING of New York trains.

Image of legendary NY graffiti artist Blade in front of one of his large pieces.

You rap motherfuckers hate yourselves and each other. Many of you are the seeds of crackheads, and it ain’t your fault that your parents got caught up in a government’s little scheme to put your peoples in a yoke.  I just want to say that rap is a language—a means of communication. Culture that has meaning; culture that has transformational power. A legacy. Yes, money can transform you, and there is nothing wrong with Trinidad James making money and having success. I wish you success, Trinidad. But the time has come for you to get educated and civilized. Language is BIGGER THAN HIP HOP and money. Time for you rappers to stop being divisive. Time for New York rap MFERs to not be so sensitive, too: no need to tap the jaw of a brother in rap who has been led astray by temporary fame and temporary money runs; led astray because he’s been gassed. Because Trinidad hasn’t studied the history of rap and he hasn’t learned that EVERYBODY falls off.  That staying humble, in certain respects, is the way to go.

Get on the same page, rappers. Communicate directly. Don’t put your tweets in the streets. Stand up so you can take control of the business you never owned: rap. Take control of the language you created: rap. Have respect for yourselves, have respect for the culture, read a book, travel the world, focus on being great, don’t get caught up in the next man’s plan. Stay COMPETITIVE, because competition had a hand in making rap music–and hip hop in general–so powerful. Competition is cool, hate is hot and connected to the little red, horned man in the ground.

Photo of the character Chicken George from the Roots film.

Kanye is singing about New Slaves. I’d argue that we’re in new times, but the slaves remain the same. Are you gonna be Chicken George or Kunta Kinte? Feel like there’s a lot of Chicken George rap out here. “Chicken noodle soup…with a soda on the side.”

Photo from the movie Roots, showing the character Kunta Kinte.

LOL—Trinidad said we have better interviewers in the North. Don’t get me started on that one. This scribe could really go in on that one. But don’t worry, New York rap reporters. I ain’t gonna go in. Though I will say, to be fair to the Chicken George rap movement, there’s a culture of #kneepadism that exists in the rap reporter world up here. People gotta preserve those knees, though. Once your knees go it’s over, bro.

Green Knee Pads And Jeans

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