This week on â€œThe White Rapper Showâ€ John Brown, Jus Rhyme, Persia and Shamrock explore their inner gully in a series of challenges that, once again, test not their prowess and potential as MCs, but perpetuate the harmful stereotypes and idiosyncrasies of the ghetto.
Oh, yeahâ€¦ and they got their asses handed to them on Hot 97, which is NOT a Clear Channel station, by the way.
Jus Rhyme in the morning symposium took the form of Xandir from Drawn Together. For those of you just joining us, Jus is on a lifelong quest to save his girlfriend, and rap from the white man.
Serch really tossed his mozzarella sticks into the deep fryer this time. Miss Jones, looking fresh out the BBW video, wasnâ€™t about to accept any bullshit from these kids (or Ego Trip, or VH1 for that matter). Imagine if Star and Bucwild were still there! Okay, letâ€™s not. That shit would have been messier than it already was.
See... A freestyle challenge would be great for a collection of MCs, but these kids can barely get through a 16 that they write and rehearse for 30 minutes. These kids officially canâ€™t show their faces anywhere after this Hot â€œ107â€ debacle. That touchdown cipher truly played out like a group of retards trying to hump a doorknobâ€¦ and failing.
John Brown may have taken his marketing strategy too far. Didnâ€™t Mr. Empowerment Zone say his clown ass was based out of Brooklyn? Shouldnâ€™t this simpleton then know that Miss Jones would eat his narrow ass like a Grand Slam Breakfast?
I think itâ€™s safe to say that my speculation was amiss. I guess Persia doesnâ€™t want John Brownâ€™s little viceroy in her white castle. In fact, no oneâ€™s wanted anything to do with our special boy in quite some time.
That is, no one except the one contestant more desperate for attention and acceptance, Powder.
That moose head bit was pretty funny, but man, looking at a grown man geek out like that is disturbing. That was some serious â€œI Am Samâ€ shit.
So, after completely destroying their hopes of being respected rap figures on the biggest rap radio station in the known universe, Serch dresses the kids in the finest thug fashions and immediately inserts them into the real-life version of Grand Theft Auto III. As the challenge began, I was so past criticizing the reverse coonery that all I could think was â€œDamn, they suckered Just Blaze AND Saigon into this shit?â€
As I, of course, ponder the societal relevance of what Iâ€™m watching like the Negro Freedom Writer that I am, I observe the saddest piece of television this program has produced: The Thug Disclaimer.
Oh, yes, I of all people, understand the importance of the disclaimer. Trust me. However, a disclaimer does not absolve you or your company of responsibility for what you produce for the mass public. When your program, which is supposed to cultivate rappers, does nothing more than make a mockery of the musical genre, culture and the kids who have put their lives on hold for the carrot you dangle, you are definitely still on the hook. No cheeky disclaimer can put you in the clear.
â€œI hope yâ€™all got that.â€
While Jus Rhyme bust his ass on a bicycle in a manner I hadnâ€™t seen since I was 9, the combination of summer sun, poor conditioning and pernil damn near killed The Queen of Queens. I guess the rule applies. Just because you can catch a case doesnâ€™t mean youâ€™re built for the urban jungle. Being that weâ€™d seen Persia carted off in an ambulance in various commercial spots, most of us knew what was on the other side of the commercial break when homegirl went to purify herself in the waters of Lake Minnetoilet.
GTA champion Jus Rhyme had the opportunity to select any remaining contestant with him to his prize â€œA Thugâ€™s Night Outâ€ with N.O.R.E., who was quickly bored with both clown-asses. For those of you who donâ€™t speak the dun language, N.O.R.E.â€™s words and body language translate as such:
â€œAight. We were gonna bring yâ€™all with us to the club and maybe to a house party after that, but we canâ€™t be seen in public with you bitches. Yâ€™all can finish off this champagne and cookies. Iâ€™m gonna go get my dick sucked. Peace.â€
What makes all of the above even more awesomely awesome? NONE OF THAT SHIT factored into elimination!
After running around like assholes, catching cases and having heart attacks, they are told that shit was purely for the amusement of the viewing public. Iâ€™d have been ready to kill me an MC Serch. Sometimes I rub my eyes in disbelief that Prince Paul is involved in this buffoonery.
The true challenge came in the kids having to write thugged-out nursery rhymes. Persia seized this challenge as an opportunity to shank John Brown in the shower and fucked it up something terrible. Once again, all that bark and Persia couldnâ€™t bring a damn thing to the table. I shouldnâ€™t have been as surprised as I was. She and Sullee have been choking on the black dildo since day one, but damn. I really expected her to gun up with all the bacon on the line.
I guess John Brown gets the last laugh and his claim of Persia only having 3 verses rings true.
With that saidâ€¦ Iâ€™ve never had a synthetic dick on my lips.
We Love New York tomorrow.