Ghetto D killed rap as music. Stabbed it right in the fucking eye.
Master P is a soulless, greedy, sell-out bastard.
No Limit Records was the last shovel full of dirt on the coffin of rap.
No Limit. Master P. Ghetto D. Rap is dead.
Rap was doing good. We had our light-pop type rap, with Puffy, Mase, Biggie, and such. We had our harder rap, with Snoop, 2Pac, and Busta, then we had our hard core gangsta shit, with Ice T, Ice Cube, etc.
Master P murdered them, and doing so, took the genre back, past the beginning. Back, so far back, it may never recover.
Look at rap. Look how it was doing. It was branching out. It was thriving. We had Bad Boyz topping the charts. We had Death Row layin down phat beatz. We had some good shit running.
Ghetto D comes out.
Master P makes it big.
Six months later, rap is dead. You can hear it. You can feel it. You can smell it.
Look at the cover art. Puffy had some emotional art, dark, sad, shadowy. Mase was happy, giving props to his town, Harlem. Snoop was doing comics.
Six months later, all we have is some black guy sitting on a red leather couch, pooching out his lips, with one hand on a golden, diamond encrusted scepter, and the other hand making an unidentifiable gang sign, with a ridiculously large golden, diamond encrusted ring on his middle finger. The picture is taken with a fish eye lens, and the name of the album is done in half-round at the top and bottom, with golden, diamond encrusted letters.
Fuck rap. You fucked us.
Sellout bastards.
Rap was true to itself. Now, it’s all about the benjamins. Even Will Smith says so in his Willennium song, “Same resolution, get the money”. Sure, who doesn’t want money. But it used to be more than that. Sprite. Fuck Sprite. I got me a Sprite contract! Nike. I got me a fucking Nike contract. Here’s a hint. You haven’t “made it big”, you’ve fucking SOLD OUT. You sold out on your fans. You fucked them over. You fucking suck.
Good fucking riddance, rap. RIP. Maybe one day you’ll come again. Maybe this time, you’ll maintain your dignity. You’ll respect yourself. And you won’t sell us out. Your fans. That’s what it’s about. Not the money.