Lately, I’ve been having hard feelings for rap music. Some days, I turn on BET or MTV, and I’m disgusted by what I see. Half-naked black women, thugged out young brothers, diamonds and rims. The same ol’ stuff. Most days, it seems to me that hip hop has lost its originality, it’s cutting edge.
But maybe I’m wrong. Or maybe I’m just growing older, more conservative and boring. Let’s hope that’s not the case. Whatever my feeling are towards rap, they are inconsistent. One day I’m pumping Lloyd Banks on the way to work; the next day I’m listening to NPR and worrying about the state of young black men.
A new CD has brought my internal contradictions to the surface. I can’t stop listening to “The Documentary,” the first album from G-Unit rapper and 50-Cent protege, The Game. At first blush, The Game is a typical west coast thug, in the mold of Eazy-E, Dre and Ice Cube. But, when we look a little deeper, we see a intelligent, wise, and indomitable poet. There is a greater depth to The Game’s music that most people will miss with just a quick listen. His lyrics shift from sad, reflective stories of shootings and death to a song dedicated to the birth of his son, “Like Father Like Son.” Check out these lyrics:
But in the end I hope you only turn out better than me
I hope you know I love you young’n, like Father, like Son
My little man, your day is coming, coming, your day is coming, I tell you
And when it comes, just keep it running, running, just keep it running, I tell you”
Check out The Game’s life story. After reading about what he has endured, who am I to judge?
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