If me and Dj Knife had to embark on a road trip, we’d need to agree on some chunes.
Instead of switching back and forth playing Tony Touch mixtapes vs. (I won’t even pretend to have the slightest idea), we would agree to meet in the middle, thanks to DJ Mighty Mi.
He just released “Golden Rap vs. Twerk & Trap” a mix that combines broke old bitter black men with your favorite new trippy producer from Tallahassee.
Democracy is a wonderful thing.
Check the mix and
trap track list after the jump.
Tim Dog is still alive????
That’s what one of the women he scammed believes, after she hired a private investigator who couldn’t find any documentation or history of his death or a funeral.
You know a bitch hates you when she hires a P.I. to make sure your bum ass is dead.
So I’m sure you’ve all heard The Paid Dues Tour will feature “appearances” by Durt Dawg and Eric Wright.
When Pac’s holla-gram stepped on stage at Coachella…it was the talk of the universe.
I ain’t gonna lie…if I’m sippin Paul Masson and just puffed on some African Black Gold in the parking lot…and Eazy fucking E appears to be standing in front of me performing????
I just might lose lose my shit.
On the ova hand tho…
We all now know the secrets behind how they create this shit. They get a look alike actor with the same body type to perform the scenes, and do some CGI George Lucas type shit…and press record….At least I thought I had an understanding of what they did.
In any event, if I know that instead of ODB on stage, I’m actually watching Larry Jefferson from Apt. 5E in Trenton, New Jersey…I just might lose my shit.
At this point, is it a cheap technological magic trick that disrespects rap legends, or is it a genius way to tie in technology and music to give true fans a moment of hapiness?
Youth is wasted on the young.
Jay Harris was one of the best high school football players in the country last year. So good, he was offered a full scholarship to play for Michigan State University.
Big time Division 1 football at a major college. Talk about pussy up to your ears…this kid could have received a free degree, free room and board, and five free sloppy blowjobs every cot damn day.
So what does this moron decide to do?
He announces to his coach and the school that he wants to concentrate on his RAP CAREER.
Scholarship gone. NFL gone. Coke, money, bitches, and Lambo…gone.
This is the most egregious shit I’ve ever heard of. His parents should be put in jail for not beating him to death.
Here’s what he said to the Philadelphia Inquirer:
“I’ve always had this in the back of my head, but never had the courage to tell my parents that this is what I want to do.”
His rap name is Jay Datbull.
Here is his latest music video.
So I’m watching Game Of Thrones with Pretty Ricky the other night (Don’t ask), and redhead bitch after redhead bitch appears on the show.
Pretty Ricky says, “I don’t fuck with yt bitches like that…but there’s something about them redhead bitches that’s so fuckin sexy.”
I was appalled.
There’s nothing more off-putting to me than the idea of a wet, redheaded clit. Gag.
The idea of eating a pussy that looks like it’s been soaked in period blood for days is right up there with Ms. Melody sitting on my face after a 2 mile jog in skin tight jeans.
They’re pale, sickly, carnies who belong in a circus freak show. Redheads are like cats. They obviously are inherently evil, and have Bealzebub on speed dial.
On top of all that, I’m convinced redheads have some sort of history of in-breeding in their ancestral past.
That’s my stance on things…where do you weigh in?
Redheads chicks…you fucks with them?
Regardless of wearing skirts, wifing a Kardashian, dissing Taylor Swift, displaying erratic behavior, and being responsible for ushering in a whole movement of EDM/rap…nobody can deny how musically fucking brilliant this douchebag is.
He’s got classic quotables and beats for days. He is Chi-Town’s Finest. (Take notes, George)
Peep this documentary chronicling the gawd.
For our Boston readers, this week marks the annual Together Festival. For most JTTS fans that doesn’t mean shit, but there’s def some acts worth checking.
A spliff in the Commons is the perfect appetizer before seeing the Wally Champ. It whets the Wu Tang whistle. A stately venue like The Wilbur gets even iller when you’re toasted. I wasn’t dusted like Supreme Clientele era Ghost, or that yt Ethan Hawke in Training Day, but the Sour put me in a proper place.
Even though we slid in only 20 minutes after the doors opened, Moe Pope had already wrapped up his criminally short set. After the release party for Let the Right Ones In, I was looking forward to seeing a Boston MC open for a God MC. To add insult to injury, the dude that followed—a clown with zero charisma who questionably rocked a feather in his hair on some FGGT steeze—didn’t deserve to be billed above Roxbury’s finest. Since it was Ghost’s birthday, Feather Man led the crowd through a birthday song that fell even flatter than his rhymes. He was trying to save face but he couldn’t get out of his own way.
In terms of “rap music,” all I’ve really been listening to for the past couple months is Kevin Gates. Yes, some other rappers slither their way into rotation, but this shit stays on repeat. Sensitive thug type shit. Since I realize I can’t write (other than when berating JTTS readers and contributors), all I can do is introduce you and you’ll hear for yourself. Welcome to my ultimate Kevin Gates post. Enjoy.
Kevin Gates – Satellites
Kevin Gates – Paper Chasers
Kevin Gates – IDGAF
Kevin Gates – Neon Lights
Kevin Gates – Weight
Also, the homies at Southern Hospitality recently put together a “Best of”…
Had a good Mother’s Day with mama ON&ON. She needed a new spring jacket, so I took her to Goodwill in Central Square. I copped her a Donna Karan lil sumthin for $7 and I was a hero.
We sat outside on a bench building, while watching three Central Square homeless drunks take turns falling in the middle of the sidewalk in front of horrified fgt M.I.T. professors.
We discussed the fact my mother is disgusted with the Cleveland Basement Rapist’s mom declaring that she is sorry, and suffering with everyone else involved in the tragedy. According to my mother, she is a filthy fraud of a person who ignores her role in creating a monster of a son due to the fact she was in relationships with abusive men, in turn, creating a strong resentment of women in her son, affecting his decision to keep three chicks locked in a basement for 10 years.
The 30 minute scooter ride with a dozen roses tucked in between my legs was worth it.
So I get back around the way, and decide to hit up Rusty’s Liquors on American Legion before I head home.
Coming out the exit, I see a chick in a Grey tricked out Civic driving erratically. I soon realize she’s trying to avoid a dude in a tricked out black Civic that’s on her tail. What seemed like slow-motion, dude violently smashes into her side. Boooom!
Immediately, dude jumps out the whip and starts screaming some Spanish shit at the chick while punching his car.
She jumps out her whip, and starts running towards the median. Lucky no other cars were around. Her right slipper fell off and the whole shit.
Dude starts chasing her…screaming.
I’m sitting on Bernie Rosenberg (my scooter) with a 6 pack of Natty Ice in the trunk watching on horrifically.
Dude stops chasing her and runs back to his damaged Civic.
“Fuck you, bitch! (SpanishSpanishSpanish)….Fuckin whore!”
He peels off, car badly damaged.
She is crying hysterically with one slipper on, and titties all desheviled…I woulda definitely hit.
She runs back to her whip, and gets on the phone.
By this time, I’ve rushed to the scene along with a black woman in her mid thirties (Anita Baker haircut), a 22 year old Puerto Rican Mc’donalds employee, and a drunk guy who just came from Rusty’s liquors.
Chick starts screaming on the phone.
“(SpanishSpanishSpanishSpanish)…..That’s IT my nigga…he fucked up! He fucked up my car!!!! (SpanishSpanishSpanishSpanish)….he wanted it to be over…fuck it my nigga, it’s over! That (Spanish SpanishSpanishSpanish)….is getting locked up! Fuck that! I’m tired of this domestic violence bullshit! (Spanishforthreeminutes)”
I approach the Mc’donalds kid, now nervously inhaling a Newport.
“You saw that shit?”
“Yeah, nigga…he pulled a knife on her and the whole shit!”
For the record, Puerto Rican’s say “nigga” more than black people. There’s an article in the Wall Street Journal, trust me.
So Mc’donald’s kid proceeds to tell me what he saw.
“They started beefin in line, so he hemmed her up…then she got loose, and my nigga pulled a knife out and shit…then she ran out and got in her ride, then he got a rock and threw it through her window, then she drove off, and he chased her, and rammed her.”
Then drove off.
7PM. Light outside. In line at a Mc’donalds with customers and cameras. You black out to the point you hemm up a chick, flash a knife, chase someone, throw a rock in their window, and crash into their car….then drive off, as some fgt on a scooter watches the whole thing.
That, my friends, is the definition of a sociopath.
Me and Anita Baker approach the chick once she gets off the phone. She’s trembling. Traumatized. Lucky to be alive.
Titties lookin mad right.
Anita asks her if she’s ok, and embraces her.
She bursts out sobbing, pulls her hair, and falls to the ground.
I’m standing there with my dopey scooter helmet still on.
10 minutes later, a fire truck arrives, followed by an ambulance, followed by the reliable Boston Police…20 minutes later.
I’m prepared to stick around and
snitch volunteer my witness account to the police, until 4 car loads of Puerto Ricans pull up to the scene….All in tricked out Civics.
She called the posse, and they are here. Justice will be served. That dude is food.
I returned to Bernie Rosenberg, and reflected on two moments of clarity I experienced this Mother’s Day.
God bless our precious mothers everywhere…and thank God I’m single.
From The Boston Globe:
This week’s lightning and rain has brought some relief, but Quincy residents worry that the drone of small planes flying overhead will soon return.
Residents say that since late April, they have suffered from the sound of low-flying planes, which are making continuous loops above their homes through the day and night. And government officials will not say who is flying the planes or why.
“It was every six minutes this loop would take, and it’s doing this arch,” said Michael Gundersen, who lives in Wollaston. “But when it’s doing a turn, it would get louder, every six minutes for hours on end.”
Gundersen said the sound started April 21 and has been practically continuous.
“The noise was just — at some points, it was unbearable,” he said.
The Federal Aviation Administration’s Facebook page has been overflowing with comments from frustrated residents, and local officials have been receiving phone calls and e-mails reporting the noise.
Those in the know remain tight-lipped. “It is a sanctioned flight by the FAA,” said Quincy police Captain John Dougan, who would not elaborate.
FAA officials echoed that response.
At Quincy City Hall, the reason is no clearer.
“We’ve received a couple more phone calls, and the response is the same,” said Christopher Walker, spokesman for Mayor Thomas Koch. “The FAA confirmed that it is a sanctioned flight, and there is no information beyond that.”
A lack of an explanation has only exacerbated the frustration of locals who were initially upset about the noise.
“Given the events of the past month, people are on edge, and the main concern that folks have is, is there something going on that they should be concerned about?” said Councilor Brian Palmucci. “[Is there an] event, activity, individual that they should be vigilant about? And no one is providing any answers.”
Though some have speculated that the aircraft is a drone, a photograph taken by a resident shows a Cessna single-engine plane. Residents also say that more than one plane is involved.
“My husband is a pilot . . . the Cessna can only fly for seven to eight hours, so there is definitely another plane that comes to relieve it,” said Jennifer Azevedo-Andre, who lives in Merrymount.
Azevedo-Andre said that she snapped a picture of one of the planes and that another plane has a dark blue belly. The tail number in the photograph is registered to a company called RKT Productions.
The company’s only available contact is a post office box in Bristow, Va. A spokesman for the nearest airport, Manassas Regional Airport, had never heard of the company.
At this point, however, most residents say the purpose of the flights is irrelevant.
“We’re very reasonable people,” said Azevedo-Andre. “There may be a valid reason for them to be covert; to explain it might undermine its purpose. But I can tolerate for so long, and no one can give us a timetable of when it will stop.”