Capone-N-Noreaga - The War Report (1997)
Not to be confused with the Walt Report, CNN's opus is one very few rappers with little advertising and little exposure could ever hope to accomplish. Deep dark beats with excellent production and an abundance of fresh new lyrical content is what made this 1997 hit a classic. With Capone in prison for some of its recording Tragedy came through and laced joint after joint with saving grace lyrical competence. Noreaga skips through this album shouting "What! What!" at every corner and sounds like he was on methamphetamines everytime he steps in front of the microphone. And Capone drops some devilish bars that complement songs to the tee. The chemistry is not to be fucked with.
Bloody Money is certainly a danger to your health with the EZ Elpee production and Noreaga hollaring that illegal drug money shit. Stick You is another drug money cut where CNN has to get on the job after getting jerked for some weak product. On it Tragedy crushes "From 41-12 to the USA building in Iraq/ my crew bust back with cap peeling/ the crew dealing in the box with no feeling/ informer type, that's what you get for squealing/ it's the money or the morgue son, ready to die/ black Infiniti, yo, papi cold guy/ the coke connect don't trust us, he wanna rush us/ and call Russ, tell him to scoop me in the Lexus/ it's all good, in the hood/ nobody know sh--/ infrared off the roof, some old scope sh--/ CNN, desert men, holding the chrome with gorilla grip/ Sing Sing, straight convict/ strap the door, C4, detonate sh--/ blow the spot, don't give a fuck who you go and get/ we want the Yayo and the cash that's in the stash/ drip his Tommy drawers, yo check the crack of his ass/ (yo on some homo sh--) nah kid, we on some real shit/ and since we here we may as well get all of it..."
Tragedy was really at the top of his game recording this album.
T.O.N.Y. deserves massive spins with tight production, booming bassline and futuristic keyboard synths. Can't forget LA., LA., the response track to Snoop's NY., NY. Black Gangstas has 'Pone shining! "I never sweat Ds, I let trees blow, get bent on benches/ hopping fences, here they come in long trenches/ crack, chase 'em, lace 'em let the Chef bake 'em/ jake taste 'em take 'em wonder where we make 'em/ roll dice and break 'em on the street corners/ betting stacks, holding packs hoping police don't run deep on us/ peep the 3rd floor shade that never rises/ from jake our hallway, plus gats in greater sizes/ bulletproof down to my Nikes, now who the livest?/ survivest, open off of lye contact/ combat, twisting your cap and listen to rap/ position the mack to blow out your back/ hoes, across the map/ foes, eat a dick in fact/ I'm a score, flip more raw than Domonique Dawes."
This is vintage East Coast mid-nineties rap. The Mobb Deep comes through and provides back up as well. The only hiccups here being a couple deeply dissatisfying interludes and a lost Capone Bone where the supplied Marley Marl track is a weak one. Nonetheless, the flaws are easily overlooked as the energy is in abundance and the underground and commercial thug appeal is super satiating.
Rating: 9 Platinum Teefs
Buy or Copy: Buy!!!!!!!!!!!
Bloody Money is certainly a danger to your health with the EZ Elpee production and Noreaga hollaring that illegal drug money shit. Stick You is another drug money cut where CNN has to get on the job after getting jerked for some weak product. On it Tragedy crushes "From 41-12 to the USA building in Iraq/ my crew bust back with cap peeling/ the crew dealing in the box with no feeling/ informer type, that's what you get for squealing/ it's the money or the morgue son, ready to die/ black Infiniti, yo, papi cold guy/ the coke connect don't trust us, he wanna rush us/ and call Russ, tell him to scoop me in the Lexus/ it's all good, in the hood/ nobody know sh--/ infrared off the roof, some old scope sh--/ CNN, desert men, holding the chrome with gorilla grip/ Sing Sing, straight convict/ strap the door, C4, detonate sh--/ blow the spot, don't give a fuck who you go and get/ we want the Yayo and the cash that's in the stash/ drip his Tommy drawers, yo check the crack of his ass/ (yo on some homo sh--) nah kid, we on some real shit/ and since we here we may as well get all of it..."
Tragedy was really at the top of his game recording this album.
T.O.N.Y. deserves massive spins with tight production, booming bassline and futuristic keyboard synths. Can't forget LA., LA., the response track to Snoop's NY., NY. Black Gangstas has 'Pone shining! "I never sweat Ds, I let trees blow, get bent on benches/ hopping fences, here they come in long trenches/ crack, chase 'em, lace 'em let the Chef bake 'em/ jake taste 'em take 'em wonder where we make 'em/ roll dice and break 'em on the street corners/ betting stacks, holding packs hoping police don't run deep on us/ peep the 3rd floor shade that never rises/ from jake our hallway, plus gats in greater sizes/ bulletproof down to my Nikes, now who the livest?/ survivest, open off of lye contact/ combat, twisting your cap and listen to rap/ position the mack to blow out your back/ hoes, across the map/ foes, eat a dick in fact/ I'm a score, flip more raw than Domonique Dawes."
This is vintage East Coast mid-nineties rap. The Mobb Deep comes through and provides back up as well. The only hiccups here being a couple deeply dissatisfying interludes and a lost Capone Bone where the supplied Marley Marl track is a weak one. Nonetheless, the flaws are easily overlooked as the energy is in abundance and the underground and commercial thug appeal is super satiating.
Rating: 9 Platinum Teefs
Buy or Copy: Buy!!!!!!!!!!!
posted by Sean at 1:04 AM
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