Who you think the guns are for, world war

Así como de sorpresa me entero de que sale lo nuevo de Poet. Uno de mis favoritos en Queens y padre junto a Khadafi de toda la escuela de los 90 del puente que nos tiene flipando desde hace años.

No hay signos de Premier por ninguna parte, y por primera vez no es un handicap. Stu Bangas y Vanderslice hacen que te olvides de Preemo al instante. Menuda fake BSO se han montado para que Poet saque todas sus movidas antisociales como si de una película de psycho-killer de serie B nacida en los 70 se tratara. Nada más que fijarse en el portadón para saber de que va el juego.

Uno de esos discos que hacen que te reconcilies con tu parte más estricta y hardcore y salgas a la calle gritando "no more pussy rappers on the mic".

Y ya está, esto no es una review, sólo una reunión de impresiones ¿el disco? una reunión de heads en un sótano poniendo bangers y hablando de Giallo. Estricto hermano, estricto.

P vs P

Lo que yo decía, ¿aún crees que eres un buen rapper con tu hardcore de pacotilla para adolescentes en celo?



Yo, yo dun, whattup, baby?
What's the deal son?
Ain't shit man, we was just talkin' about that shit last night
That shit is crazy right?
For real, son, shorty was like Sixteen
Police come skiddin' up on the sidewalk and shit

What the fuck is wrong with niggas man?
You seen them niggas dun? Them niggas crazy
Shit is hot though, they need to chill the fuck out with that man
Word, it's aight though son, we survivors in this game
Screwball with the Mobb, times is hard on everybody boulevard

That's my word, I'm mothafuckin' stressed
It seems like life's tryin' to put me through a test
'Cause every fuckin' day it's just gettin' worse
What's worse? Might go out, die hard and end up in a hearse

But no time to think about the consequences
The years in jail, fuck the death sentence
All I know is that I need mad cash in a flash
Before I gotta kill somebody ass

Might as well be in jail or dead
'Cause if you ain't gettin' paid then you ain't gettin' ahead
(That's word)

Sittin' in my room with the lights out thinkin'
I'm alive but I ain't livin', I'm leakin'
I made my bed and I'm'a lay in it
But I ain't gonna stay in it

I might start sprayin' shit
I should've stayed in school but that's a dead issue
Fuck a G.E.D., that's like toilet tissue

All my friends are hoodlums and hustlers
Runnin' with a bunch of stupid crazy mothafuckas
Niggas fuckin' their money up, niggas gettin' knocked
And jealous mothafuckas, they want the whole block
Though I could start flippin' gettin' on a mission
But I need much more, no time for bullshittin', niggas listen

The H E A T makes me crazy (X2)
I wanna bust somethin', figures, touch somethin'
The heat is on, got a niggas blood rushin'
I wanna touch somethin', niggas bust somethin'

Yo, all I know is guns, all I do is slug
I'd rather plug you with the heater than to have you front
My life revolves around the snub Fourth
Stay gettin' those outside of New York

Bullets from the cornerstore, I'm bringin' home a arsen
Interstate 95 North to the Jackie Robinson
Watch out for D's in Caprices in Tauruses
Security guards mistaken as cops, mad nervous

Back at home sell a few burners
Keep a miz and a seven mil for my personal
Walk with benevolence, holdin' twin Fifths
380's in the whip, a mini-eagle for my chick

That nigga P is sick, I need a silencer connect, see me
Niggas be lyin', tellin' stories, tell it walkin'
My niggas is into drugs and extortion
Knotty head for them niggas on the night shift pumpin'
The heat is on nigga

Hook (X6)

Blaq Poet vs Chinatown

Distinta utilización del mismo sample, mismo resultado. Hip Hop real.



Máximo respeto para Chinatown ahora y siempre.

1995 raw shit

Posiblemente uno de los mejores años en la historia del rap, tanto para NYC, como L.A., toda la bahía o el South. Es inarbacable la cantidad de obras maestras que salieron a la calle.

Flipad (Tuff City es el sello):