The word "hype" wasn't enough to describe the

>>71759903
KL = fake rap.


It's MSM propaganda.

Real rappers are persecuted, not promoted.

The word "hype" wasn't enough to describe the media assault on the sprawling 80-minute To Pimp a Butterfly (2015), another meticulously crafted album that employed legions of writers, producers and musicians (including jazz pianist Robert Glasper and jazz saxophonist Kamasi Washington). Six people wrote Wesley's Theory, including George Clinton, and four produced it, including Flying Lotus. Nine people are credited as writers for the funk-fest King Kunta, making it de facto a collage. The producers threw in more live instruments, resulting in a sound that is more revivalist than innovative, but also a sound that helps the general theatrical atmosphere. For better and for worse, The Blacker the Berry is the epitome of this emphatically pointless but fashionable avant-jazz-rap music. I begins as an olf-fashioned synth-pop hit of the 1980s before it begins to sound like a James Brown parody (with the lyrics "the number one rapper in the world" and "i love myself") accented by a jovial piano figure. The best psychodrama is possibly one of the simplest songs, the melodic funk-soul These Walls, and the best political sermon the equally straightforward funk ditty Hood Politics. But the music is secondary to the histrionics and it doesn't matter that the catchy and danceable Alright stands in opposition of the industrial beat that derails Momma, a fact that could account for at least eclecticism. This is a superficial and, ultimately, middle-of-the-road album from an artist who lacks the visceral energy of Public Enemy and Tackhead while also lacking the poetic depth of Kanye West and the musical genius of El-P. He tries to be all of them at once, but maybe he would be most credible if he were just himself: a brilliant script-writer of fictionalized real-life stories: the Christian parable How Much a Dollar Cost presents God disguised as a homeless man, and Mortal Man interviews the ghost of dead rapper 2Pac.

>>71759926
You're retarded- the world is "msm propaganda". You think jews dont have a hand in everything you like? Look around faggot

The word "hype" wasn't enough to describe the media assault on the sprawling 80-minute To Pimp a Butterfly (2015), another meticulously crafted album that employed legions of writers, producers and musicians (including jazz pianist Robert Glasper and jazz saxophonist Kamasi Washington). Six people wrote Wesley's Theory, including George Clinton, and four produced it, including Flying Lotus. Nine people are credited as writers for the funk-fest King Kunta, making it de facto a collage. The producers threw in more live instruments, resulting in a sound that is more revivalist than innovative, but also a sound that helps the general theatrical atmosphere. For better and for worse, The Blacker the Berry is the epitome of this emphatically pointless but fashionable avant-jazz-rap music. I begins as an olf-fashioned synth-pop hit of the 1980s before it begins to sound like a James Brown parody (with the lyrics "the number one rapper in the world" and "i love myself") accented by a jovial piano figure. The best psychodrama is possibly one of the simplest songs, the melodic funk-soul These Walls, and the best political sermon the equally straightforward funk ditty Hood Politics. But the music is secondary to the histrionics and it doesn't matter that the catchy and danceable Alright stands in opposition of the industrial beat that derails Momma, a fact that could account for at least eclecticism. This is a superficial and, ultimately, middle-of-the-road album from an artist who lacks the visceral energy of Public Enemy and Tackhead while also lacking the poetic depth of Kanye West and the musical genius of El-P. He tries to be all of them at once, but maybe he would be most credible if he were just himself: a brilliant script-writer of fictionalized real-life stories: the Christian parable How Much a Dollar Cost presents God disguised as a homeless man, and Mortal Man interviews the ghost of dead rapper 2Pac.

The word "hype" wasn't enough to describe the media assault on the sprawling 80-minute To Pimp a Butterfly (2015), another meticulously crafted album that employed legions of writers, producers and musicians (including jazz pianist Robert Glasper and jazz saxophonist Kamasi Washington). Six people wrote Wesley's Theory, including George Clinton, and four produced it, including Flying Lotus. Nine people are credited as writers for the funk-fest King Kunta, making it de facto a collage. The producers threw in more live instruments, resulting in a sound that is more revivalist than innovative, but also a sound that helps the general theatrical atmosphere. For better and for worse, The Blacker the Berry is the epitome of this emphatically pointless but fashionable avant-jazz-rap music. I begins as an olf-fashioned synth-pop hit of the 1980s before it begins to sound like a James Brown parody (with the lyrics "the number one rapper in the world" and "i love myself") accented by a jovial piano figure. The best psychodrama is possibly one of the simplest songs, the melodic funk-soul These Walls, and the best political sermon the equally straightforward funk ditty Hood Politics. But the music is secondary to the histrionics and it doesn't matter that the catchy and danceable Alright stands in opposition of the industrial beat that derails Momma, a fact that could account for at least eclecticism. This is a superficial and, ultimately, middle-of-the-road album from an artist who lacks the visceral energy of Public Enemy and Tackhead while also lacking the poetic depth of Kanye West and the musical genius of El-P. He tries to be all of them at once, but maybe he would be most credible if he were just himself: a brilliant script-writer of fictionalized real-life stories: the Christian parable How Much a Dollar Cost presents God disguised as a homeless man, and Mortal Man interviews the ghost of dead rapper 2Pac.

The word "hype" wasn't enough to describe the media assault on the sprawling 80-minute To Pimp a Butterfly (2015), another meticulously crafted album that employed legions of writers, producers and musicians (including jazz pianist Robert Glasper and jazz saxophonist Kamasi Washington). Six people wrote Wesley's Theory, including George Clinton, and four produced it, including Flying Lotus. Nine people are credited as writers for the funk-fest King Kunta, making it de facto a collage. The producers threw in more live instruments, resulting in a sound that is more revivalist than innovative, but also a sound that helps the general theatrical atmosphere. For better and for worse, The Blacker the Berry is the epitome of this emphatically pointless but fashionable avant-jazz-rap music. I begins as an olf-fashioned synth-pop hit of the 1980s before it begins to sound like a James Brown parody (with the lyrics "the number one rapper in the world" and "i love myself") accented by a jovial piano figure. The best psychodrama is possibly one of the simplest songs, the melodic funk-soul These Walls, and the best political sermon the equally straightforward funk ditty Hood Politics. But the music is secondary to the histrionics and it doesn't matter that the catchy and danceable Alright stands in opposition of the industrial beat that derails Momma, a fact that could account for at least eclecticism. This is a superficial and, ultimately, middle-of-the-road album from an artist who lacks the visceral energy of Public Enemy and Tackhead while also lacking the poetic depth of Kanye West and the musical genius of El-P. He tries to be all of them at once, but maybe he would be most credible if he were just himself: a brilliant script-writer of fictionalized real-life stories: the Christian parable How Much a Dollar Cost presents God disguised as a homeless man, and Mortal Man interviews the ghost of dead rapper 2Pac.

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The word "hype" wasn't enough to describe the media assault on the sprawling 80-minute To Pimp a Butterfly (2015), another meticulously crafted album that employed legions of writers, producers and musicians (including jazz pianist Robert Glasper and jazz saxophonist Kamasi Washington). Six people wrote Wesley's Theory, including George Clinton, and four produced it, including Flying Lotus. Nine people are credited as writers for the funk-fest King Kunta, making it de facto a collage. The producers threw in more live instruments, resulting in a sound that is more revivalist than innovative, but also a sound that helps the general theatrical atmosphere. For better and for worse, The Blacker the Berry is the epitome of this emphatically pointless but fashionable avant-jazz-rap music. I begins as an olf-fashioned synth-pop hit of the 1980s before it begins to sound like a James Brown parody (with the lyrics "the number one rapper in the world" and "i love myself") accented by a jovial piano figure. The best psychodrama is possibly one of the simplest songs, the melodic funk-soul These Walls, and the best political sermon the equally straightforward funk ditty Hood Politics. But the music is secondary to the histrionics and it doesn't matter that the catchy and danceable Alright stands in opposition of the industrial beat that derails Momma, a fact that could account for at least eclecticism. This is a superficial and, ultimately, middle-of-the-road album from an artist who lacks the visceral energy of Public Enemy and Tackhead while also lacking the poetic depth of Kanye West and the musical genius of El-P. He tries to be all of them at once, but maybe he would be most credible if he were just himself: a brilliant script-writer of fictionalized real-life stories: the Christian parable How Much a Dollar Cost presents God disguised as a homeless man, and Mortal Man interviews the ghost of dead rapper 2Pac.

>1 2 3 4 5
>I'm the best rapper alive

I really do fucking HOPE TO GOD you all aren't THIS fucking RETARDED.

If you seriously think that's a good line in ANY sort of way, shape or form, I'm sorry (actually, I'm fucking not), but I have to unironically inform you that you must be WAY below average levels regarding intelligence or mental capabilities, otherwise I see no fucking possible explanation to any somewhat intelligent being (not just human) ((subhumans/ niggers included)) ever thinking that's a "clever" fucking """"""""""rhyme"""""""""".

I have NEVER seen a bigger industry plant than fucking Kendrick "shit" Lamar. As in, how fucking much (((money))) do (((they))) fucking pay you idiotic, retarded, braindead shills to promote his shitty fucking music? Is it REALLY worth it to waste your life advertising a fucking niggerman whose music SUCKS major dick to underage people all over the internet?

How SAD are YOU? Seriously, get a fucking life, no, really, I'm not kidding, I will say this in the fucking face of EVERY Kendrick fan. Just please, please, please, kill YOURSELVES. PLEASE.

And now a little something for those who will say my post lacks "substance", or some shit like that. Here's my reasoning solely based on this "man"'s "music":

The beat is TERRIBLE.

>OH WOW DUDE THE BEAT FUCKING CHANGES FROM ONE MINUTE OF THE SONG TO ANOTHER!!1!!11!2!211!!!!!1!

Yeah, thank fucking GOD, otherwise I would literally fall ASLEEP DURING THE FUCKING "TRACK".

Second of all, his voice is TERRIBLE. No, really, he sounds like an underage child whose voice is just starting to change and mature yet it never fully does, and it actually fucking HURTS to listen to from how fucking cringy and WEAK it is.

And his "message"? WHAT FUCKING "MESSAGE"? HE HAS NEVER SAID ANYTHING OF RELEVANCE BESIDES MUH OPPRESSION MUH DICK MUH ALCOHOL, JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER FUCKING RAPPER HAS BEEN DOING SINCE THE FUCKING 90S.

>>71761802
>1 2 3 4 5
>I'm the best rapper alive

I really do fucking HOPE TO GOD you all aren't THIS fucking RETARDED.

If you seriously think that's a good line in ANY sort of way, shape or form, I'm sorry (actually, I'm fucking not), but I have to unironically inform you that you must be WAY below average levels regarding intelligence or mental capabilities, otherwise I see no fucking possible explanation to any somewhat intelligent being (not just human) ((subhumans/ niggers included)) ever thinking that's a "clever" fucking """"""""""rhyme"""""""""".

I have NEVER seen a bigger industry plant than fucking Kendrick "shit" Lamar. As in, how fucking much (((money))) do (((they))) fucking pay you idiotic, retarded, braindead shills to promote his shitty fucking music? Is it REALLY worth it to waste your life advertising a fucking niggerman whose music SUCKS major dick to underage people all over the internet?

How SAD are YOU? Seriously, get a fucking life, no, really, I'm not kidding, I will say this in the fucking face of EVERY Kendrick fan. Just please, please, please, kill YOURSELVES. PLEASE.

And now a little something for those who will say my post lacks "substance", or some shit like that. Here's my reasoning solely based on this "man"'s "music":

The beat is TERRIBLE.

>OH WOW DUDE THE BEAT FUCKING CHANGES FROM ONE MINUTE OF THE SONG TO ANOTHER!!1!!11!2!211!!!!!1!

Yeah, thank fucking GOD, otherwise I would literally fall ASLEEP DURING THE FUCKING "TRACK".

Second of all, his voice is TERRIBLE. No, really, he sounds like an underage child whose voice is just starting to change and mature yet it never fully does, and it actually fucking HURTS to listen to from how fucking cringy and WEAK it is.

And his "message"? WHAT FUCKING "MESSAGE"? HE HAS NEVER SAID ANYTHING OF RELEVANCE BESIDES MUH OPPRESSION MUH DICK MUH ALCOHOL, JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER FUCKING RAPPER HAS BEEN DOING SINCE THE FUCKING 90S.

>>71761861
>1 2 3 4 5
>I'm the best rapper alive

I really do fucking HOPE TO GOD you all aren't THIS fucking RETARDED.

If you seriously think that's a good line in ANY sort of way, shape or form, I'm sorry (actually, I'm fucking not), but I have to unironically inform you that you must be WAY below average levels regarding intelligence or mental capabilities, otherwise I see no fucking possible explanation to any somewhat intelligent being (not just human) ((subhumans/ niggers included)) ever thinking that's a "clever" fucking """"""""""rhyme"""""""""".

I have NEVER seen a bigger industry plant than fucking Kendrick "shit" Lamar. As in, how fucking much (((money))) do (((they))) fucking pay you idiotic, retarded, braindead shills to promote his shitty fucking music? Is it REALLY worth it to waste your life advertising a fucking niggerman whose music SUCKS major dick to underage people all over the internet?

How SAD are YOU? Seriously, get a fucking life, no, really, I'm not kidding, I will say this in the fucking face of EVERY Kendrick fan. Just please, please, please, kill YOURSELVES. PLEASE.

And now a little something for those who will say my post lacks "substance", or some shit like that. Here's my reasoning solely based on this "man"'s "music":

The beat is TERRIBLE.

>OH WOW DUDE THE BEAT FUCKING CHANGES FROM ONE MINUTE OF THE SONG TO ANOTHER!!1!!11!2!211!!!!!1!

Yeah, thank fucking GOD, otherwise I would literally fall ASLEEP DURING THE FUCKING "TRACK".

Second of all, his voice is TERRIBLE. No, really, he sounds like an underage child whose voice is just starting to change and mature yet it never fully does, and it actually fucking HURTS to listen to from how fucking cringy and WEAK it is.

And his "message"? WHAT FUCKING "MESSAGE"? HE HAS NEVER SAID ANYTHING OF RELEVANCE BESIDES MUH OPPRESSION MUH DICK MUH ALCOHOL, JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER FUCKING RAPPER HAS BEEN DOING SINCE THE FUCKING 90S.