Flimflambostulatin'

The new Pelon? Nowadays, we fete the Red States. With hip-hop hyper-regionalism at its hyper-craziest, one wonders if any eyez will finally turn to the obscure neighborhoods and reserved ambitions of the Yay Area. After all, is there anything more small-time than recordings songs not about the police writ large, but about specific officers? This is the title cut off Hell’s Kitchen, a compilation helmed by the Sucka Free vet-slash-aspiring filmmaker-slash-all-around renaissance man Andre Nickatina (Dre Dog). Anchored by a growling stomach of a bass-line and the doppler tip-toe of cheap keys, Nickatina and guest Saafir threaten to staple you to the crucifix, "crack your weak Halloween mask" (and then deposit you under the Astroturf), commit a lot of assault and battery and then "tap that blackness on your eyeballs," just to make sure you heard the part about the garlic bread and spaghetti.

Posted by Hua at December 2, 2004 11:59 AM