Tuesday, October 12, 2004



t.i. - bring em out/u don't know me -- bring em out, swizz with hard, colorful beat with get it on the floor keyboard thing, soca whistles, squiggles of sped-up girl vocal sample, giggles, jay sampled biting sort of obscure biggie verse, backwards drums and beatboxing breaks, swizz demanding rewind, scratched HANDS IN THE AIR NOW bit, crashing down over, burying t.i. until he gives up trying to talk for the last minute and a half and just lets it play out. / you don't know me, t.i. sounding like himself, hard and wiry, veins wrapped around forearms, cocking head and punctuating each line with hand chop, rapping about trapping, shooting pistols, just real and violent over the sort of beat he likes, deep drums, fast, rough.

the game ft. 50 cent - fresh '83 -- fresh like uhhhhh--- impala uhhhh--- chrome hydraulics--- 808 drums--- game, sounding a lot like banks, with a good verse, g-unit quality control for the album. and grimy 50 verse that actually sounds like get rich stuff, not smoothing out his slur and letting it roll into the ruts of every suitable phrase. and the beat. so clean and hard like it's really fresh from '83. sighing keyboards, invisible bubbles of drum. it's going to be the next beat that everyone has to get on.

daz ft. bun b - feel it/pitbull ft. bun b - dirty -- man, daz comes just as hard as bun on this, choppy, up and down flow, slowing down to climb up doubletime again to fit in the end of a bar. and bun switching off the tiptoe, deliberate old man rap and sounding like he's 20 years old, rapping fast and reckless about selling cocaine to buy cars. / and the pitbull track. clicky beat with slow piano and pitbull explaining miami for the thousandth time. but bun b with one of the two or three verse he's used on every guest track this year, running through his book of rhymes by lowering his fee and letting anyone have a verse. say, straight up out of texas
that reckless p.a. to be exact
where the streets is cutthroat and fiends'll kill you for a g of crack
and the gs in the cadillacs, chevys, cuttys, and deltas
might swang up on you then hurt you, nobody here gon help you
two thousand helter skelter, talking bout families of killers
bitches like silverback gorillas, see ya and peel ya
niggas down here ain't tryna feel ya, see ya, hear ya, know ya, serve ya
you pussy niggas been hating on us for too long, so we fitna prove you wrong
teach you hoes a new song, the time is now and the place is here
i can smell you scared nigga, i can taste your fear
gon make it clear, move the smoke outta your eyes
so that when everything go down it won't be no kind of surprise

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