Young Thug – Barter 6 | Music Review | Tiny Mix Tapes

Alternative Rap Rap Senza categoria

The first few seconds of Barter 6 have Young Thug cooly whispering a cursive remark to the beat: “Pull that shit up fool, it’s ours.” It might not come as a surprise, especially since the central drama within mainstream hip-hop often involves the idea of ownership. The drama, as a creative force, seems to be perpetually ahead and behind the curve, as territories are discovered and/or squatted on amidst incessant bickering about cultural agency or material propriety. The point-c

Source: Young Thug – Barter 6 | Music Review | Tiny Mix Tapes

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Young Thug – Barter 6 | Music Review | Tiny Mix Tapes

Young Thug – Constantly Hating (feat. Birdman)
[Intro: Young Thug]
Pour that shit up fool, it’s ours. Monster! Man so you ain’t gonna pour? Oh so you’re gonna make a nigga beg you to fuck… okay bool

[Verse 1: Young Thug]
Hopped out my mothafuckin’ bed
Hopped in the mothafuckin’ coupe (SKRRRRR)
Pulled up on the Birdman
I’m a beast, I’m a beast, I’m a monster
You got 50 whole bands, you’ll be my sponsor (just for the night)
Them snakes on the plane, me and Cognac-conda (condas)
I might piece him up and let my partner smoke him
Chuck E Cheese, I’m about pizza and my Rol’ on
I’m a gangster, I don’t dance, baby I poke
Right now I’m surrounded by some gangsters from Magnolia
I heard I put it in the spot, yessir she told me
My niggas workin’, these niggas YSL only
I heard my Nolia niggas not friendly, like no way
But we not friendly either, you know it
Yeah thumbs up
I’ve seen more holes than a golf course [?]
My bitch a tall blooded horse, nigga, bronco
And if you catch us down bet you’re not gon’ trunk us
You got a body, lil nigga, we got a ton of ’em
You got some Robin’s, lil nigga, we got some Balmains
I let that choppa go “blocka, blocka,” get back, son
You got them MJs, nigga, I got them Jacksons (racks)

[Hook: Young Thug]
But really what is it to do
When the whole world constantly hatin’ on you?
Pussy niggas hold their nuts, masturbatin’ on you
Meanwhile the fuckin’ federal baitin’ on you
Nigga tell me what you do
Would you stand up or would you turn to a pussy nigga?
I got a hundred things to do
And I can’t stop rappin’ but I can’t stop stackin’ fuckin’ figures

[Verse 2: Birdman]
Yeah, I’m from that mothafuckin’ ‘Nolia, nigga
Birdman’ll break a nigga nose, lil’ nigga
You need to slow your fuckin’ roll, lil’ nigga
We created Ks on shoulders, nigga
I’m a scary fuckin’ sight, lil’ nigga
We won a hundred mil’ on fights, lil’ nigga
A hundred bands, sure you’re right, lil’ nigga
I keep some AKs on my flights, lil’ nigga
Birdman Willie B
Smoke some stunna blunts, now my eyes Chinese
Hundred K on private flights overseas
Choppas City nigga, free BG
Bentley with the doors all ’round, not a Jeep
Rich nigga shit, smoke two pounds in a week
Can’t find a bitch that don’t know we them streets
Bitches know that I am Birdman, that’s OG

[Hook: Young Thug]
But really what is it to do
When the whole world constantly hatin’ on you?
Pussy niggas hold their nuts, masturbatin’ on you
Meanwhile the fuckin’ federal baitin’ on you
Nigga tell me what you do
Would you stand up or would you turn to a pussy nigga?
I got a hundred things to do
And I can’t stop rappin’ but I can’t stop stackin’ fuckin’ figures

[Verse 3: Young Thug]
Nigga I’m a crack addict
Thought about lettin’ them get a cut, then I went and snagged at it
Been Lil’ Boosie Badazz at it
I’ma drop a nigga like, just like a bad habit
I sit to the ground like a mothafuckin’ road
I’m a big dog, lil’ fuck nigga you a pup
Lil’ bitch clean your drawers before you think you’re a thug
Before I be in front your shows, just like your boo
I ain’t even lyin’, baby
I swear to God I ain’t lyin’, baby
First I’ll screw you without these pliers, baby
I might dap you like, “good try,” baby
B, B livin’, baby
Them boys on my left throwin’ up Cs
I promise their mama see them this week
And I don’t break promises with my Ds (them my dogs)
I want Ms and cheese, mister Mickey Ds
She know I am a beast, I am so beast
In Miami I swear they don’t got good weed
Wiz Khalifa can you give me some weed please?

[Outro: Birdman]
Yeah, overseas, nigga. Top floor, clear windows, nigga. Glass house. Drivin’ GT. You understand, we in that Red Light District. You understand, 3 and 1, that mean 3 on me, nigga. You understand me? Just livin’ the life, boy. Aye Thug, just a dollar for a 1, nigga. We can blow a mil’, boy. Rich Gang YSL. Bllllat!

 

 

JL Matarese – POESIA CRUDA – Cosang Feat. Fuossera

Alternative Rap

JL Matarese – POESIA CRUDA – Cosang Feat. Fuossera

Lyrics :

Nto’:

Qual e’ il limite che divide

Marianella con Piscinola?

scimmie sopra i tubi

simile il modo di fare i furti

“questa volta e’ l’ultima ” dice al giudice

ma appena esce squaglia la carta

svuota appartamenti interi

succede questo a nord di Napoli

si trasferisce nei residenziali chi capisce

materassi , puzza di piscio

torno a casa e non c’e’ spazio

Luca chiudi il lucchetto e metti pericoli nei conti

non sai chi incontri

t’informo quando scendi da Londra a Capodichino

vogliono stare contro

stretto con chi dico io

Peppe , O’iank , Ciccio, Paolo e Junior

questa e’ l’unione

l’Italia gode sul suono di un episodio nuovo

eh si

poesia benedetta dalle anime dei cari

dateci la forza perche’ siamo

fragili e fradici

maschere che nascondono lacrime umane

racconto i pensieri pesanti II°

LUCHE’:

Ti dico Anto’ questo e’ il mio stile e tu lo sai bene

tornando indietro quando il rap era vero

io ho ancora in mano queste penne in cui io ancora spero

la musica, quando le debolezze prendono piede

crampi in testa quando una donna manca

quando un ferro ti fa scendere dalla macchina

io penso a me

con il crocifisso al collo

che mi ripara dall’affanno di quest’anima dannata

il rap come documento

l’odio come miglior sentimento

senza pentimento e vaffanculo ai benpensanti

questa roba segna dentro come il disco dei Cosang

Fuossera sono i compagni , il rione e’ lo sfondo del quadro

passando le ore a parlare delle guardie

qui giu’ poi gli stronzi si fanno uccidere per le femmine

io mi chiudo nella musica come fosse terapia

amore a prima vista io e questa poesia.

O’IANK:

Questo fuoco si avvicina sempre di più alle facce

volano le schegge vi bruciate

si fanno male vogliono fare i duri ma scrivono roba banale

Piscinola, bloccate nel sistema

qua la terra trema tutti i giorni, spalle che si toccano incroci di occhi

le gente si raggruppa

Fuossera e Co’sang queste carni parlano, la chiesa non accetta

In Nigeria l’AIDS li prende per il petto

pochi anni di vita e in niente cadono

dalle nostre parti si combatte

per un cumulo di fogli di carta e quattro pezzi di ferro

nome e cognome sui manifesti in un soffio di vento

carica la penna “luchè”

concetti di piombo colpiscono di striscio

fasci di luce di queste stelle che ancora vivono

l’asfalto bolle sotto le ruote i polsi si bruciano

i registi di questa pellicola non si fermano

mangiano e fottono senza scrupoli

ma quando schiattano.

RIT:

E’ poesia cruda

paure negli uomini bambini

metti l’anima nei dischi perche’ hai visto

giorni come questo dove niente e’ sicuro

una donna mangia e giura e vive nei sogni

di un uomo che non l’ha mai toccata

neanche quando e’ giorno

veniamo da dove si piange e l’aria puzza di sangue

e niente cambia

l’affetto e’ una conquista per chi e’ figlio di nessuno

non esiste muro che chiude questa poesia cruda.

PEPP J ONE :

Il consumismo consuma tutte le forze

si fanno corse per essere i primi

si cresce sotto i pregiudizi

i giornalisti scrivono il falso per i giovani sulle riviste

liste di stronzate dentro i palinsesti arrivano da destra a sinistra

Piscinola , non e’ tutto sbagliato

ragiona

prendiamo il meglio dal peggio

lontano dai vizi si suda

la legge e’ incurante

prendi una sedia e dimmi che hai visto

dovresti portare giustizia ma sei il primo a cacarti sotto

io non generalizzo ma spesso mi perdo

e niente ci capisco

mischiando bene e male produciamo due dischi

rischi e paure nelle parole crude di quest’uomo

la cronaca di tutti i giorni rompe lo stomaco

anche se allunghi le mani per toccare la fortuna

femmine nude vogliono i soldi e non gli uomini

piccoli pezzi di merda scippano gli orologi al Vomero

a 13 anni il mondo e’ loro

ora l’euro costa piu’ del dollaro e c’e’ fame agli occhi.

SIR FERNANDEZ :

Gia’ si sente l’odore dell’aria

uno specchio di luce sulle mura dove la sentenza cade

lontano non si guarda

non e’ chiaro

dove lo scenario varia in un istante

una stretta di mani vuota ci ha comandato il mondo

dove le ragazzine fottono per roba bianca e fumo

ne vedo solo facce stanche

mentre gli occhi piangono lacrime e sangue

storie pesanti e del nero piu’ oscuro

danno spunto al disappunto e POESIA CRUDA

carte stampate fanno grigi i colori che ammiri

il rosso in faccia di chi coltiva e si da da fare

sempre piu’ raro

chi ascolta a chi ha guardato il mare da dietro al ferro

sa che il mondo e’ sporco

tenta il lamento e chi non lo sente cade

andando avanti a stimoli fotto io chi fotte i simili

etere ed effimero per il minimo, credimi

pistole e problemi sfondano il cervello

Piscinola,

marchiata a fuoco sulla pelle.

RIT

Nto ‘:

What ‘the dividing line
Marianella with Piscinola?
monkeys over the pipes
like the way you do thefts
“this time and ‘the last,” says the judge
but melts as it exits the paper
empty apartments integers
this happens north of Naples
moved in the residential who understands
mattresses, stinks of piss
I come home and there is no ‘space
Luca close the lock and put dangers in the accounts
do not know who encounters
t’informo when you come down from London to Capodichino
want to stand against
closely with who I say I
Peppe, O’iank, Ciccio, Paul and Junior
and this’ union
Italy enjoys the sound of a new episode
oh yes
poetry blessed by the souls of loved ones
Give us the strength ’cause we’re
fragile and wet
masks that hide human tears
account the heavy thoughts II

LUCHE ‘:

I’ll tell Anto ‘this and’ my style and you know it
way back when rap was real
I still have a hand in these pens in which I still hope
music, when weaknesses are taking hold
cramps in the head when a woman is missing
when an iron makes you get out of the car
I think to myself
with a crucifix around his neck
that protects me from care of this soul damned
rap as a document
I hate feeling like the best
without repentance and self-righteous to fuck
marks this stuff in like disk Cosang
Fuossera are mates, ward and ‘the background of the picture
passing the hours in talk of the guards
down here ‘then the bastards are being killed for females
I enclose myself in music as therapy was
love at first sight and I this poem.

O’IANK:

This fire is getting closer to the faces
flying splinters you burn
they get hurt they want to do the hard but write trivial stuff
Piscinola, locked in the system
here the ground shakes every day, shoulders touching intersections of eyes
the people you group
Fuossera and Co’sang these meats speak, the church does not accept
In Nigeria AIDS takes them to the chest
few years of life and nothing in fall
in our country we fight
for a pile of sheets of paper and four pieces of iron
name on posters in a gust of wind
Charge the pen “Luche”
concepts of lead affect smear
beams of light from these stars who are still living
asphalt bubbles under the wheels wrists burn
the directors of this film do not stop
eat and fuck unscrupulous
but when schiattano.

RIT:

And ‘raw poetry
fears in men children
put the soul in the hard ’cause you’ve seen
days like this where nothing and ‘safe
a woman eats and swears and lives in dreams
of a man who has never touched
and even when ‘day
we come from, where you cry and the air smells of blood
and nothing changes
affection and ‘a victory for those who are’ nobody’s child
there is no wall that closes this poem raw.

PEPP J ONE:

Consumerism consumes all the forces
you are racing to be the first
it grows under the prejudices
journalists write false for youth magazines
lists of crap inside the listings come from right to left
Piscinola, not ‘all wrong
reasons
we take the best from the worst
away from the vices you sweat
the law and ‘careless
pull up a chair and tell me what you saw
You should bring justice but are the first to cacarti below
I do not generalize but I often lose
and we understand nothing
mixing good and evil produce two discs
risks and fears in the cruel words of this man
the chronicle of daily breaks stomach
even if you stretch your hands to touch the luck
nude females want the money and not men
small pieces of shit snatch watches the Vomero
13 years and the world ‘their
the euro now costs more than ‘the dollar and there is’ hungry eyes.

SIR FERNANDEZ:

Gia ‘you can smell the air
a mirror of light on the walls where the sentence falls
Do not look away
not ‘clear
where the scenario varies in an instant
a close up of empty hands has commanded the world
where the white stuff for girls fuck and smoke
I can only see tired faces
while the eyes are crying tears and blood
stories and heavy black more ‘dark
give ideas to disappointment and POETRY RAW
printed cards are gray colors you admire
red in the face of those who cultivate it and to do
more and more ‘rare
who listens to those who have looked at the sea from behind the iron
knows that the world and ‘dirty
try the lament and those who do not feel falls
going back to who I fuck the fuck stimuli similar
ether and ephemeral for the least, believe me
guns and trouble breaking through the brain
Piscinola,
branded on the skin.

RIT

poesia cruda_
JL Matarese – POESIA CRUDA – Cosang Feat. Fuossera

DIE ANTWOORD – I FINK U FREEKY

Alternative Rap Senza categoria Video

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DIE ANTWOORD – I FINK U FREEKY

Directed by Roger Ballen & NINJA
Director of Photography Melle Van Essen
Edited by Jannie Hondekom @ Left
Post Production by Blade
We luf u Fraser

www.RogerBallen.com
www.DieAntwoord.com

ZEF FILMS 2012

DIE ANTWOORD – I FINK U FREEKY

From Wikipedia : Background and style

Die Antwoord lead vocalistNinja, was part of the South African hip-hop scene for many years, fronting acts such as The Original Evergreen, MaxNormal.TV and The Constructus Corporation. Ninja told Rolling Stone, “Everything I did before Die Antwoord was me experimenting, messing around and trying to find Die Antwoord… Everything before it was disposable. It was all throwaway.”

Die Antwoord observed that journalists and critics, particularly in the United States, frequently ask if their creative output is a joke or a hoax. When asked if he was playing a character, Ninja said, “Ninja is, how can I say, like Superman is to Clark Kent. The only difference is I don’t take off this fokken Superman suit.” They have described their work as “documentary fiction” and “exaggerated experience” designed for shock value. Ninja told Spin:

People are unconscious, and you have to use your art as a shock machine to wake them up. Some people are too far gone. They’ll just keep asking, “Is it real? Is it real?” That’s dwanky. That’s a word we have in South Africa, “dwanky.” It’s like lame. “Is it real?” You have to be futuristic and carry on. You gotta be a good guide to help people get away from dull experience.

Die Antwoord is known for their cult following, in particular the unusually prolific creation of fan art by their followers. Some of their music videos have incorporated artwork by the noted photographer Roger Ballen

DIE ANTWOORD - I FINK U FREEKY

 

M.I.A. – Bad Girls

Alternative Rap Senza categoria

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M.I.A. – Bad Girls

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M.I.A. – Bad Girls

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M.I.A. - Bad Girls