Black Star, Mos Def & Talib Kweli Are Black Star (1998)
The two most revered soulful and conscientious rappers alive converge here to shed some light on life and rap. The Black Star album is a concept on par with excellence. With Kweli's assiduous delivery and Mos Def's funky "wild nice" flow, this album turned into a reflection of the state of the industry.
Kweli's sickest verse came on Hater Players where this dude blacks out spitting "It's a small wonder like Vicky why I'm picky/ 'cause niggas suck like hickeys, still get to slip they shit in like mickies/I'm sick of these hater players, bring on the regulators with the flavors and your farm team fucking with the majors/ like a river how I run through, what I do is so cold/ freezing up your bodily fluids, your style is old/ you running your mouth don't really know what you be talking about/ you should retire, get that complimentary watch be out/ yo with the quickness, so swift you miss this lyrical fitness/ yo get this, these mc's want to test me like litmus/ bear witness, I'm like shot clocks, interstate cops and bloodclots/ my point is your flow gets stopped..."
"I'm sure that everybody out listening agree/ that everything you see ain't really how it be/ alot of jokers out running in place chasing the style/ be alot going on beneath the empty smile/ most cats in my area be loving the hysteria/ synthesized surface conceals the interior/ America, land of opportunity mirages and camoflauges, more than usually/ speaking loudly saying nothing, you confusing me/ you losing me your game is twisted, want me enlisted in your usery/ foolishly, most men join the ranks cluelessly/ but foolishly accept the deception, believe the perception/ reflection rarely seen across the surface of the looking glass/ walking the street, wondering who they be looking past/ looking gassed with them imported designer shades on/ star shines bright but the light rarely stays on/ same song just remix, different arrangement/ put you on a yacth but they won't call it a slave ship/ strangeness, you don't control this, you barely hold this/ screaming brand new when they just sanitize the old shit/ suppose its just another clever jedi mind trick/ that they been running across stars through all the time with/ I find its the stress and there's never no inbetween/ we either niggas or kings, we either bitches or queens/ the daily ritual seems, immerse/ in a perverse, full of short attention spans, short tempers and short skirts/ no barrel automatic released in short bursts/ the length of black life is treated with short work/ get yours first, them other niggas secondary/ that type of illin that be filling up the cemetary/ this life is temporary but the soul is eternal/ seperate the real from the lie, let me learn you/ not strong, only aggressive 'cause the power ain't directed/ that's why we is subjected to the will of the oppressive/ not free, we only licensed not live, we just exciting 'cause the captives own the masters to what we writing/ I come passionate, only polite, we well trained/ Our sincerity is rehearsed and staged, its just a game/ not good, but well behaved 'cause the cameras survey/ most of the things that we think do or say/ we chasing after death just to call ourselves brave, when everyday next man meet with the grave/ I give a damn if any fam recall my legacy/ I'm trying to live life in the sight of God's memory, like that y'all." That's a crazy Mos Def verse on Thieves in the Night.
These guys bring it deep. This is a project heavy in lyrics before beats. The beats, for the better part of the album, are melodic and smooth sounding with piano or guitar riffs and compliment the rappers well. Good album.
Rating: 7 Gold Teefs
Buy or Copy: Buy, you don't lose anything by making this purchase.
Kweli's sickest verse came on Hater Players where this dude blacks out spitting "It's a small wonder like Vicky why I'm picky/ 'cause niggas suck like hickeys, still get to slip they shit in like mickies/I'm sick of these hater players, bring on the regulators with the flavors and your farm team fucking with the majors/ like a river how I run through, what I do is so cold/ freezing up your bodily fluids, your style is old/ you running your mouth don't really know what you be talking about/ you should retire, get that complimentary watch be out/ yo with the quickness, so swift you miss this lyrical fitness/ yo get this, these mc's want to test me like litmus/ bear witness, I'm like shot clocks, interstate cops and bloodclots/ my point is your flow gets stopped..."
"I'm sure that everybody out listening agree/ that everything you see ain't really how it be/ alot of jokers out running in place chasing the style/ be alot going on beneath the empty smile/ most cats in my area be loving the hysteria/ synthesized surface conceals the interior/ America, land of opportunity mirages and camoflauges, more than usually/ speaking loudly saying nothing, you confusing me/ you losing me your game is twisted, want me enlisted in your usery/ foolishly, most men join the ranks cluelessly/ but foolishly accept the deception, believe the perception/ reflection rarely seen across the surface of the looking glass/ walking the street, wondering who they be looking past/ looking gassed with them imported designer shades on/ star shines bright but the light rarely stays on/ same song just remix, different arrangement/ put you on a yacth but they won't call it a slave ship/ strangeness, you don't control this, you barely hold this/ screaming brand new when they just sanitize the old shit/ suppose its just another clever jedi mind trick/ that they been running across stars through all the time with/ I find its the stress and there's never no inbetween/ we either niggas or kings, we either bitches or queens/ the daily ritual seems, immerse/ in a perverse, full of short attention spans, short tempers and short skirts/ no barrel automatic released in short bursts/ the length of black life is treated with short work/ get yours first, them other niggas secondary/ that type of illin that be filling up the cemetary/ this life is temporary but the soul is eternal/ seperate the real from the lie, let me learn you/ not strong, only aggressive 'cause the power ain't directed/ that's why we is subjected to the will of the oppressive/ not free, we only licensed not live, we just exciting 'cause the captives own the masters to what we writing/ I come passionate, only polite, we well trained/ Our sincerity is rehearsed and staged, its just a game/ not good, but well behaved 'cause the cameras survey/ most of the things that we think do or say/ we chasing after death just to call ourselves brave, when everyday next man meet with the grave/ I give a damn if any fam recall my legacy/ I'm trying to live life in the sight of God's memory, like that y'all." That's a crazy Mos Def verse on Thieves in the Night.
These guys bring it deep. This is a project heavy in lyrics before beats. The beats, for the better part of the album, are melodic and smooth sounding with piano or guitar riffs and compliment the rappers well. Good album.
Rating: 7 Gold Teefs
Buy or Copy: Buy, you don't lose anything by making this purchase.
posted by Sean at 11:17 PM
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