“I had to write you, its beyond trying to enlighten you / its a token or appreciation for being that poet with no abbreviations”
The deep connection we develop with some rappers through their music triggers a relationship thats closer than they will ever know. Some keep it inside, some talk about it to their friends, and some send fan mail hoping it will reach the person they feel so related to. Praise, thoughts, advice, and understanding are just some of the things these letters will entail. Fabolous and AZ touch the subjects separately, taking time to read their fan mail. Continue reading →
Minolta, double exposure, wide lens view Check credentials and niggas next to push tha Benz through You know the glow iced out rings long dough Spandex, Moshino, ho bitches lettin’ their thong show I play the game, took plenty paper still remain the same Age and name, barrel link chain, lettin’ my piece hang Domestic, no more crime play but still connected Continue reading →
Sosa’s 1995 debut has been getting plenty bump from me lately and just so happen that this time, I had a keyboard in front of me and not a steering wheel. Lets get into this gem.
Whats its all about?!!? “Doe or Die, kid!”
No need for lactose. Til this day, this is one of my favorite AZ tracks. Its gritty, sinister and the verses trump his most famous verse from “Life’s A B$$$h” (ok, maybe I’m buggin but its pretty damn good). Hence the title, this is the purest lyrical form of Anthony Sosa. A short but enjoyable track that is worthy of a repeat. The hidden gem of the album in this one.
Poverty-stricken, they even turn a church kid into stickin
It seems sickenin, but what? Whatever makes the pockets thickin Continue reading →
Sosa is definitely in my list of top lyricists. The song title describe this verse perfectly. “No need for lactose…”
Life is a struggle, that’s why niggas I know stay on the juggle Some hustle to double, others hug you then mug you Poverty-stricken, they even turn a church kid into stickin It seems sickenin, but what? Whatever makes the pockets thickin Fuck police and no remorse for the beasts that’s lost on the streets, that pistol whip a priest for a crosspiece Some lost sheep, runnin thru strips, thinkin of top dealers Fillin Tek clips, wit ‘cop killers’ that could stop gorillas Shovin a stubnose in buttholes, I’m nutso skitzo, clepto, killin shit up throughout the metro My thug essence will always keep me plugged with drug investments Sketch my reference, takin papers considered preference And violations will lead to kidnappin, decapitation So what you’re facin, is realism that’s in activation Livin off land with five honeys playin my hand Me and fam, sippin’ on Guinness stout and eatin clams It’s all part of plans, a vet chillin in Tamps, West and Stans Outta state connect, slugs, sex, drugs and grands
After reading/hearing this, your face should be equivalent to the image below…