sean kingstonchris brown

It’s Chicken Wings, Ya’ll vs These No Talent Fools

It’s 1:21am on Tuesday, February 26th, 2008. Life is good with yours truly, and I’m in the mood for some rabble rousing.

That’s right. I said “Rabble Rousing”.

So the week before last, I was in the car with my friend “M”, driving to Chili’s after an excursion to the cinema. It was snowing. Not enough for it to be bad, but just enough to make every shitty driver in the 11717 drive shitty. It didn’t help that it was rush hour, and that we were driving thru a part of tizzown that usually gets backed up worse than Saigon’s Release Date. (oooooh…)

Anyhoo, we were conversing (conversate = not a real word, JSYK) and playing the “Let’s hit ‘Scan’ on the radio and make fun of whatever comes on” game. We were stuck in f’n traffic so it seemed like a good idea. Until.

Until.

Until for some fucking reason, Sean Kingston’s “Take You There” shows up on every “urban”, Top 40, and Dance radio station we can get a signal from. Lemme fuckin’ tell you, This song wasn’t on every other station because it’s good. This song was on every other station because of fucking Payola.

No, not the Spanish woman that cleans the office after everyone leaves at nite, but rather the immoral and illegal practice of giving a radio station a shitload of money to play one song more than another. Or, to play a group of songs more than others. Or, to play one horrible fucking song 264 times a day until the 16 year old urchins of the world are so brainwashed by it that, not only do they convince themselves that it’s good, but they are also compelled to either download the song as a ringtone, or purchase the song from motherfucking iTunes (Ifux > iTunes, iPhone, iPod, etc etc), or even worse, purchase the whole entire album.

You know, the Usher “Yeah!” effect.

So anyway, I’m listening to this song–mostly digging the beat and how it’s really very different from most everything else on the radio. I’m listening to the rhythm and “melody” from Sean Kingston, and I’m thinking that, despite the fact that he should be throttled by the ghost of Ben E. Kingsley, I could see myself liking this song. Until.

Until.

Until I start listening to the words: “We can go to the tropics/Sip piña coladas, Shorty I could take you there/Or we can go to the slums, Where killas get hung…”

*ahem*

“Go to the slums.” What… “Where killas get hung…” …The Fuck?

Okay, so not only does this Bastard Offspring of Aunt Jemima and Byron Crawford lookin’ ass ni**a lack any singing talent, but apparently the stupid son of a bitch can’t figure out what lyrics are GOOD, and what lyrics are FUCKING RETARDED.

I mean, okay. Some girl is gonna go, “Hmm, this ugly motherfucker says he can take me to the tropics, or he can take me to the ghet-to. Wow, what a decision to make. I mean, on the one hand, he’s an ugly motherfucker, but on the other, we can either hang out on the beach, or like, get shot at. I know! Slum!”

*deep breath* And people complained about Boy Bands being manipulative with their, “Hey Girl, I don’t care if you’re 100 pounds overweight with braces and acne, cuz I love you for who you are inside.” nonsense. At least that was somewhat empowering, somewhat uplifting to the ugly chicks (”Uggos” from here on out) who bought the records and posters and junk.

No sir, none of that with Mr. Kingston. This asshole and his team of songwriting, auto-tuning, cosigning management assholes is enticing the girls with Faux tales of Gangsterdom and the Slum-As-A-Secret-Paradise line o’ bullshit. It’s fuckery of the highest order, and Lord knows some stupid girl is gonna get suckered into something like that and end up with something horrible happening.

Bravo, Record Industry. Bravo.

***

Next up we have Chris “I’m 20 but my voice hasn’t changed” Brown.

*sigh*

First of all, Let me preface this with: I hated Usher’s “Yeah!” song. I hated the gimmicky crunk feel. I hated the lyrics. I hated Lil’ Jon’s Minstrel Shouts. I hated Ludacris’ sub-par verse. I hated that that song was played on every fucking station on the dial ad nauseum. It was a perfect storm of trash. Frankly, the only good thing it did was stop the radio stations from playing “Hey Ya!” every 10 minutes.

There’s a point.

When motherfucking Chris “Dimples” Brown came out with “Run it!”, I hated it instantaneously. I mean like, by the time he got to that voice-cracking “Let me knoOoOoOwWw” line, I was already prepping the Malatov Cocktail (paaauuusssee!) to hurl thru the Z100 and Hot 97 offices. The song was crap. Worst of all, it was an even worse version of Usher’s stupid “Yeah!” song.

An. Even. WORSE. Version. Of. Usher’s. Stupid. “Yeah!”. Song.

Then of course, he released more songs that made me want to cut off my own nipples and shove them in my ears in order to avoid them. Combine that with guest “raps” from Lil’ Wayne and Juelz “Hey Look! I have dimples, too!” Santana, and you pretty much had an artist I wanted to see stricken with painful-yet-permanent laryngitis.

But wait! There’s more!

Despite a good turn in Stomp The Yard, Chris Brown still managed to piss me off with his latest album, Whatever The Fuck It’s Called, and it’s lead single, “Kiss Kiss”. Now look, I’m on record as saying I find T-Pain entertaining. The guy writes some good songs, and so far I’ve managed to only hear a few songs despite his apparent omnipresence (Fuck you, Flo Rida), so I’m not sick of him. But. “Kiss Kiss” was fucking awful. It looked like Chris Brown was stuck in the “I will hate you forever” category with Jim Jones, Michael Jordan, and Tim fucking Duncan. Until.

Until.

Until I heard, “With You.” Mind you, I knew right away that it was a ripoff of Jessica Simpson’s “With You”, but I figured ripping off songs from 2004 was just Chris Brown’s gimmick. I ended up listening to the song and, despite lines like “With every kiss and every hug you make me fall in love”, I enjoyed the chorus and gave the song a pass.

Heck, it was an R’n'B song that didn’t have a Vocoder, 808 clap, or T-Pain on it. I was bound to like it.  Until.

Until.

Until today, when I swear to God, that song played 3 times in 90 minutes on Hot 97. That’s once every half an hour. Not to mention how many times it played on WBLI, Power 105, and Z100. Soooooooooo, you figure that song probably played more like 6 times in 90 minutes, which means that every 15 minutes, some asshole decided to play Chris “What The Fuck” Brown’s “With You”.

All of the good will “Mr.” Brown built up with yours truly, Dr. Beardhussein, was out the fucking window like Ron Burgandy’s burrito seconds before Baxter was punted off a bridge.

Now I’m sick to death of that fucking song, and I’m wondering why in the hell Jordin Sparks, Ne-Yo (an artist I actually really enjoy), & Chris Brown are all using THE FUCKING “IRREPLACEABLE” BEAT!!!!!! For real! It’s the same shit, and all 3 artists have those songs in rotation right now! Am I the only one that notices they just erase the vocals from Beyonce and slap in the vocals from those 3? Or am I on a spaceship???

*deep breath*

Call Reynolds, Cuz it’s a Wrap.

Fuck you, Chris Brown. Fuck you and your handlers and your fans and anyone that insists on playing your records, via payola or via actual enjoyment of your “music”.

Fuck you, Sean Kingston. Fuck you and your ghostwriters and producers and management team, and anyone who had anything to do with you being an “artist”.

You two are both hacks, shams, frauds. I can not wait until the day when you guys are banished from my airwaves the way 50 Cent, Ashanti, Akon, Evanessence, MIMS, Plies, DJ Unk, Jim Jones, Juelz Santana, Lil’ Jon, and countless other Paper Champs were.

Oh, and lastly, this isn’t “hating on them”. I don’t care that these 2 imbeciles are making money off of people that can’t even tell they’re being insulted. I care that legitimately talented artists are forced out of airtime because of the tripe being broadcast all over the country.

Comments, Critiques, and Counterpoints can be left in the Dr. Donda West Memorial Comments Section below.

–Rey.I.Is

PS–BKScribe once french kissed a dog for 45 seconds on a bet. Worst part was, the dog licked it’s own balls afterwards to get the taste out of it’s mouth.