Women Who Rap Need Critical Feedback.
As do men. But this is not about them.
Moving on, I am fond of rap. At one point, I wanted to marry it. And then it called me bad names, so I changed my mind and decided to shack with electronica and neo-soul. But that is another story.
Where is this going? Up your butt-pipes and onto YouTube. This is where I got a glimpse of a young lady whom, I am sure many men would like to wed. Once she’s old enough to legally patronize nightclubs.
She is a bleached blonde, recovering gun-shot wound victim and has recently been seen sashaying around town with Young Moolahs’ Tyga. Her name is Honey Cocaine and apparently she is an emcee. Who happens to be Cambodian. She raps about things most Americans are familiar with: money, sex and drugs. Her raps sound like twitter freestyles, or at best a collection of her most provocative sentences confiscated from a middle school essay.
She has already had “beef” with another emcee. Who happens to be Black and a woman. I am not exactly sure who won the rap battle because it seems to have lasted less than sixteen bars and ended with Honey Cocaine repeating her last half of a bar several times. Confused by what appeared to rap’s version of the special olympics, I was in no way inclined to reconsider my decision not to marry.
I will continue to sandpaper Cocaine’s lyricism, after I offer you a clip of her covering Tupac’s “Dear Mama”; a recent song in which she momentarily neglects rapping about the “bitches” and gives us some insight into a her personal trials and tribulations. One of her better tracks.
She is definitely not my favorite emcee and my opinion has nothing to do with her gender, age nor her orthodontic situation. Though I do feel her braces are the most unique thing about her.
I am going to keep the feedback short and let her freestyle speak for itself. You will notice at the end of her freestyle–which is devoid of witty punch lines and full of tumbling clichés–her team of men cheer her on as though she single-handedly led them to the Superbowl.
I must say, please do not “gas” up the rapper ladies solely because you are secretly wishing to either blow on their balloons later in the eve or cash out on their looks. Be honest with them and offer constructive feedback so they can master their craft and achieve long-standing success, which is all I wish upon Honey Cocaine and the slew of rappers. Who happen to be women.
The following video is part of my final project for a “Research Methods” class I enrolled in during undergrad. It offers a slightly different commentary than Honey Cocaine’s and may sound a bit familiar to those well versed in the gender politics of hip hop. Enjoy the pre-HD quality.