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Y'all like Immortal Technique, I like OJ Da Juiceman, but ain't we all hip-hop heads at the end of the day? Death to wack MCs.Ĭertain innovations in rap music are so simple yet revolutionary, you wonder: a). The alliteration gimmick is a little Daniel Radcliffe does Blackalicious, but hearing this song on the FIU radio station's True School rap show made me realize something important. No one can ever accuse Gotti of being behind the times. Some enterprising director needs to cast Glizzy as a Shakespeare villain, my guy got that role down to perfection.Īfter rapping about Instagram on the Concealed tape, Gotti went full-on computer nerd with this absurdist ode to social media mackin. Makes me want to sell Xanax in a strip mall after watching Cassie Steele-era Degrassi, fuck my chemistry homework. This one got some late night lonely feels, like an emotionally remote "I Need Love." This is what Broward County sounds like. In 2016, I intend to stake out prime real estate on their nuts. Poppi Seed Connect was one of the great unheralded releases of 2015. Maybe it's cause I fancy the aweemaway as a nod to Young Dro rather than the Temptations, but "Knew That" took me back to a time when Atlanta seemed like a constant source of alien sounds and voices. JOHNNY CINCO & HOODRICH PABLO JUAN - KNEW THAT Choppas come from Yucatan / You da man, you da man! earns this song its spot on the list. I don't know if I like this song as much as I liked hearing Young Dro on the radio again.
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I chose this song because I like it when he talks about being a whiteboy. Had it been an EP, Wax might have established his rightful position as the Drake for people who went to juvie. On the other hand, if the kiddie diddler is diddlin' himself to "Hit The Quan" Vines, isn't this song a brilliant form of harm reduction?Įverlasting Money was maddeningly front-loaded. Does it matter that I never heard anyone listen to this song in public? In one respect the creepiest song of the year, a de facto aggregator of dancing nubiles for the hip and social media-adept pedophile. "Hit The Quan" is "Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae)" with grassroots credibility, making iLoveMemphis the Bernie Sanders to Silento's Hillary Clinton. The joint to play as you string up the noose after watching Stroszek. Ima give this one the Ian Curtis Award of 2015. Do ya dance, YG, do ya dance: this is the music we need from you. The California Livin mixtape with DB and Blanco was like mediocre BBQ where you just suckin the flesh off some ribs like a goddamn neanderthal, talmbout "Holy shit, this is so delicious, bury me in BBQ sauce," but afterwards you realize you was just deceived by a hickory-smoked high. Plies is transitioning from rapper to Instagram celebrity as he languishes in Slip-N-Slide purgatory, but he occasionally still makes music. Rap Game 1910 Fruitgum Company, call it bubblegum rap. One of those songs of such ideal platonic pop form it seems to have been around forever. "Trap Niggas" and "March Madness" were the yin and yang of everything that made Future great in 2015 -mournful trap bangers, degenerate quiet storm. How can you not like a song so evocative of the My Brother & Me theme? Let Baltimore have this one. I can't deny this song, even though it fell in my esteem when I was introduced to the Tim Trees original. Bet Kendrick wishes he could've snagged this one for TPAB, but your calls get sent to voicemail when the man who made No Way Out is out for a fantastic voyage. Do you want new wave or do you want the truth? New wave, first and foremost.Ģ015 was a year of ersatz funk, and this was its pinnacle. This was the joint that actually connected with the people. Corporate radio tried and failed to make "King Kunta" happen. To Pimp A Butterfly garnered more thinkpieces than listens. I was like, "Yo, the eagle has landed." Also the soundtrack to one of my favorite Vines of the year, the one where some urban youths are listening to this song in a convenience store parking lot, and a white man who looks like the living embodiment of Daytona Beach starts groovin like Steve Martin in the King Tut sketch. This song came on the jukebox and the crackers went crazy, hooting and hollering like they was raising Old Dixie.
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I was eating wings at a suburban Miami bar frequented by white people who dress like a Bass Pro Shop exploded. RIP to The Jacka, Yams, Koopsta, Chinx Drugz, Sean Price, Pumpkinhead, The Last Mr.