We are supposed to listen to Pill because he wears “wife-beaters” as a matter of comfort, not to be ironi-cal. Also, he “explicates the psychologically debilitating d-boy experience, setting his ruggedly introspective corner rhymes against the backdrop of the panoptical necocon police state in the greater Atlanta metro area.”
Basically, Pill has a fanbase that thinks he makes no kind of fucking sense and they like him for that.
DasCoolio if you are a tween I guess. I mean, back in a simpler time I was a huge fan of Foo-Shniggins. I only listened to their tape while high speed dubbing it. So I couldn’t understand one fucking thing those googily race moppets said.
But now we live in serious times. Rappers should be making as much as sense as possible, to as many people as possible. Unfortunately, Pill is hard to follow. Take for instance his use of the passive voice:
“a handgun is risen when it’s all about the digits”
Son, WTFxLOL. Seriously, WTFxLOL. A handgun is risen? You watch too much Pulp Fiction you nonsense-spewing leviticus grammar having jabberwocky flocky fuck?
How’s this for a line:
“ho checker, you can call me scantron pimpin”
U mean a tool of automated assessment? The man is frankly a threat to rational discourse. Peep this video if you don’t believe me. Around 2:35 he mentions something about rappers “hiding in the basement/ redecorate their wardrobe and go and get a facelift.” Not only doesn’t that rhyme in any dialect of American English, it’s utter flapdoodle, akh.
I have no idea what this motherfucker is ever talking about, and you shouldn’t either. Twitcott this balderdash until he starts talking sense or you might find yourself rubbing elbows with Aysop Roc aficianados in a too-mildewy-to-be-hip old man’s bar in outer Queens, yo.
