Big Ghost Chronicles: Big Ghost’s Message of Hope for 2012 – Happy New Year

Ayo whattup yall…you now in the presence of the…


Ayo whattup yall…you now in the presence of the Grand Imperial Volcano Hands aka Phantom Raviolis the Inventor of Slaps…otherwise known as The Hands of Zeus aka Cocaine Biceps aka the illustrious Galaxy Knuckles…but yall kno the god as the infamous Big Ghost aka Thor Molecules the panty melter. First off Imma apologize for the delay. Its been mad long since the god blessed yall wit some scrolls. But like I be tellin niggas…life happens namsayin. N yo.. we dont choose inspiration…it chooses us son. The god sat down to bless yall a few times…n truth be told I wasnt feelin the shit the way I wanted to be feelin that shit. I asked one of my muses bout it n she told me thats jus how geniuses is nahmean. But regardless of that shit son 2011 is a wrap….n we gettin ready to pop those corks on another year namsayin. But before we load up the choppers we gon end this one the rite way first. Now I aint wanna spoil the surprise but the god had planned on sumthin bigger…but I aint finish it. I had a year end extravaganza I was workin on which Imma jus have to push into 2012. My bad yo… but Im tryna provide yall witta a turkey n that shit takes time to cook the rite way. Other niggas might be able to whip up some bullshit ass Stouffers tv dinners n say to you aight niggas…FEAST…but I aint bout that shit b. If you come to the table for a meal I aint gon put a McNugget on ya plate feel me? I aint gon say word…eat that McNugget n may God bless you namsayin. Nah son we gotta have principles n morals n shit like that in life. So I aint gon pull ya shirt over ya head n just punch you like that. I aint gon blindside niggas on some “Yo whats that shit over there?!” shit n then run the other direction nahmean. Nah yo…the god is jus a man b. The god stay humble par. I may not got too many imperfections but I be makin mistakes here n there too b.


So as I was kickin back on my cloud I seen sumthin…I got splashed witta moment of honesty b. Word is bond n the shit made me think son. I seen children playin outside namsayin…n yall kno how little niggas dont give a fuck bout no rain or wind or nothn like that… n they was feelin life par. They wasnt dwellin on no stress or none of that shit. Basically these little muthafuckas is goin thru life on some fuck it Imma jus do me type shit son. N thats that innocence nahmean. We all had that shit at one time yo…but as we grow life starts throwin plates at you whenever you start thinkin shit is jus cool nahmean. You kno how like you be on some whattup good morning shit n the bitch start throwin coffee mugs n dishes at you type shit….word is bond n you jus get the fuck outta dodge n you aint even kno for sure why that shit was happenin. That shit dont happen to kids b. You can tell these little muthafuckas they goldfish Joey died n they gon look at you on some ayo FUCK LIFE type shit n then 10 minutes later they fuckin wit Yoshi namsayin. They gon be playin that Wii shit or kickin it wit they imaginary friends or whatever nahmean. But I seen that shit namsayin…these little innocent niggas enjoyin life n the shit hit me son. Tears jus burst out my wig son. I flipped the table over n had to slap the butler yo. A niggas emotions jus overcame him n shit. Son i be lettin the pressure get to me sometimes. Muthafuckas start tellin you you great…niggas start wantin to throw cake at you…people be hollerin at you makin you offers askin if they can buy you…they wanna work wit you…they want you to be on the next mission to the moon…this that n the third. But you gotta stay true to who you is par. Otherwise you jus goin thru the motions. You aint creatin…you jus recreatin. Either that or you start fixin shit that aint broke. You start reinventin the wheel n sayin ayo why dont we try makin a square wheel or a triangle wheel or a trapezoid wheel or some shit… Fuck all that b. You start thinkin outside the box too much n pretty soon you forgettin how to boil water. You start gettin stupid ideas like ayo Im outta coke so Imma sniff some table salt. Fix ya face little nigga. I see you muthafuckas takin shit way too personally. Have some dignity b. Correct yaself. Theres only so long that you can keep sprayin cologne on your stank ass when in actuality you need to be takin a shower b. Reinvigorate ya pores or whatever. Niggas is sprayin they cologne ey’where tryin to mask they odors. Fuckouttahere you dirty ass muthafuckas.

Plus I got cowardly ass niggas tryin to test the gods hand skills ey’day. I wanna send a personal fuckouttahere to those niggas rite there. Niggas want that fade nahmean. They can have that shit b. I dont make threats I destroy lives son. Yall dont wanna catch that Zeus slap nigga. Son Imma make sure ya future kids would feel that shit n cease to muthafuckin be born due to that slap b. Your ceased to even exist future children’s children would feel that shit b. No matter what dimension they exist in. The friends n family members of those children that dont exist except in another dimension’s children who will never exist whose kids also dont exist’s children would feel that slap vicariously thru YOUR face b. I been told niggas that shit n where they at now son? Niggas gon crawl out another niggas ass to say some disrespectful shit to the god but dont in actuality want that shit to escalate par. Imma slap you niggas so hard that you gon wake up lookin up at dinosaurs son.

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Where Are They? The Lack Of Females In Hip Hop

What better place to catch the essence of the…

I spent a week in the Dallas, Fort Worth (TX) area over the holidays and being that I love the culture I had to check out a local Hip Hop event. What better place to catch the essence of the culture than “open mic night”, right? Well…

I walked in a bit before the first artist went up and went to the bar. I ordered a Grey Goose and tonic, tall, because talls are usually poured heavier. The bartender told me that they only had one size and proceeded to talk me into the “special” of
the night, which happened to be a kind of smooth vodka, and made the drink in a small plastic solo cup. This made me think that maybe this isn’t the crowd to be around. If I can’t get a glass, glass, then what’s really going on? So I smashed the
drink quick (the mix was good (the bartender was good)) and turned around to face the back of the crowd and the stage.

So I will take you through my line of sight. Big ass head with, small ass hat… On purpose. Super tight shirt, really big bubble goose vest. Jeans that were almost leopard print Wayne tight with shoes that very closely resembled moon boots. Then I
looked around and realized that this was the attire of 83.6% of the people in attendance. Past the sea of half Wale, half Wayne, and half Wiz Khalifa (3 halves… I know) was the stage. In classic open mic fashion there was a mic… And a DJ. The part that was a bit refreshing was the presence of a live drummer.

The way they had it set up was that the artist would spit about a minute or so worth of freestyle to the beat of what the drummer wanted to play then they could perform one of their own songs. The crowd was supposed to clap and/or cheer for the act(s) they like. Just like every other instance of an open mic attempt, the host “nudged” the audience to vote in favor of their crew. spot was halfway packed. What made me laugh is that for every 8 guys there was 1 girl… maybe. I wonder is it because women don’t like this type of event, the men don’t invite the women, or do we somehow hold this sacred to the point of not
wanting women to intrude? My question is “Why?”.  The other problem I noticed was that the vast majority of the people in the crowd were waiting to get on stage. What benefit does this open mic have? There is no real gain for the artist. They weren’t performing in front of any label reps or a&r’s. They weren’t even gaining any new fans. There was no “fan” type people in the crowd.

What’s the point? Where is the benefit? It seemed like it was a waste of time. I watched for a bit and then left. I started wondering if every other place in America was going through the same type of situation. No women and no fans at Hip Hop shows seems less and less appealing.

Before you get mad at my opinion, remember, its just my opinion. I’m jus ranting.

We need more women in Hip Hop. On both sides.

Blu & Exile – Give Me Flowers While I Can Still Smell Them [New Music]

Blu & Exile teamed up again to bring another…

Blu & Exile teamed up again to bring another classic project.  As on Below The Heavens they join forces like Batman and Batman…. yup!  The beats are Exile phenomenal and Blu definitely delivers his story very well.  Give Me Flower While I Can Still Smell Them is definitely worth the listen and worth the little bit of money it costs to download.

I suggest this for the Hip Hop connoisseur as well as the casual listener.   This is definitely one of the freshest releases this year.  I would put this in the same rotation with Phonte’s Charity Starts At Home.

UPDATE: They took the stream off of their Bandcamp page.  Now you have to buy it.  Happy Listening!

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Slick Rick – Need Some Bad (Produced by DJ Premier) [New Music]

MC Ricky D is back like he never left…

Ok,  so this is not a brand new song.  It’s been floating around the internet for about a solid week now.   I’ve been meaning to say something about it, but life off the net has been keeping me away.

MC Ricky D is back like he never left.  The phenomenal story telling emcee is definitely doing his thing.  He teamed up with legendary producer DJ Premier to bring this track that is featured on the soundtrack for The Sitter.

I think its a good look for the veteran.  Slick Rick is definitely still a force, should he decide to come back and rock an entire project again.

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Heltah Skeltah, OGC – What The Fcuk Does That Mean?

The name of this here is Leflaur Leflah…

“Me, Rob, and Starang were [playing] a Sega Genesis game called Coach K College Basketball where you could shatter the backboard. Starang broke the backboard on me and yelled, ‘Eshkoshka!’ We don’t know what that shit means, he just yelled it, and we started laughing at him.”

A day or two later… “Me and Starang wrote our verses together at my crib and we went to the studio and knocked that shit out. And I just said, ‘The name of this here is Leflaur Leflah Eshkoshka.’ I just said that shit, I don’t even know what it means. There’s no meaning to it. It means absolutely nothing. We were just bugging the fuck out.” -Ruck aka Sean Price

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A Day In The Life Of Wale

Following the emotive MC around in New York City on…

“I don’t have a home right now,” Wale told The BoomBox. This statement coming from a man who banks big bucks from concert performances and scored opening week sophomore sales of 164,062 units sold for his ‘Ambition’ LP. “I’m living out of a suitcase literally,” he admits. “The suitcase blues.” As the 27-year-old Washington, D.C. native begins to comically sing, “I got the blues, suitcase blues,” the tone in his voice reveals that there’s more beatitude in his life than melancholia, considering he travels nationwide via a mega tour bus doing work that he loves — spreading his brand of raps.

Following the emotive MC around in New York City on Nov. 2, a day after his first album under the Maybach Music Group/Warner Bros. Records umbrella debuted, brushes away preconceived notions that he’s just an irate rapper posting 140-character jabs at critics and unsupportive followers on Twitter. Wale’s happy, as long as there’s a blunt full of weed in his hand — which he smoked many times throughout his hectic day — and a forum to showcase his lyrical talents.

His morning kicks off around 10:30AM, where he sits down with The Breakfast Club radio hosts DJ Envy, Angela Yee and Charlamagne at Power 105.1. Music off his second LP plays, answers are given as to his departure from former label, Interscope Records (“My assistant knew before I did that I got dropped”) and stories are shared behind the inspiration for tracks like his love-gone-wrong ode ‘Sabotage’ (“That was the first time a girl punched me in the face; I love crazy women”).

Crazy is a word that many people may use to describe Wale, who dropped his first album, ‘Attention Deficit,’ in 2009. However, Power 105.1’s Angela Yee thinks his actions, which sometimes include emotional outbursts via social networking platforms, are misconstrued by the public. “People have this idea about him that he spazzes out and he’s so crazy but I think all of that shows that he’s a passionate person,” she shares. “He’s passionate about what you think about his music, he cares so much about what you think about him.”

Besides crafting songs like the braggadocio bars of ‘Bait’ and the Miguel-assisted ‘Lotus Flower Bomb,’ his other passion lies in sneakers. At 11:30AM, he walks into Flight Club, a popular sneaker boutique, and scours the walls lined with kicks like a kid in a candy store. Wale, born Olubowale Victor Akintimehin on Sept. 21, 1984, admits to having most every kind of sneakers displayed in the store but that doesn’t stop him from scooping up a pair of camouflage Adidas Jeremy Scott Wings. “It’s his addiction,” says Wes, who serves as the MC’s road manager and is an official member of his Board of Administration movement. In total, Wale walks out of the store after dropping $3,340 on merchandise.

Before getting a slew of interviews underway with various outlets, a rapper’s got to eat. He’ll settle for Subway but after making a pit-stop at Flatotel — the hotel he’s chosen to rest his dreadlocked head while in the Big Apple — he and his entourage opt for a more elegant eatery. A pricey seafood restaurant tucked away on a midtown street is where the ‘Eleven One Eleven Theory’ mixtape creator not only eats a crab cake sandwich and drinks fresh squeezed orange juice at 1:40PM, but also where he charges his phone, which never seems to leave his fingertips throughout the day.


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Source:  The Boombox