"Ni88a i'm straight, my girl is a f#ggot" (Carter 4 unquotables thread!
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"Shoot a ? on his porch and make em fall in his kitchen"
I ? with that line heavily, prolly my favorite Wayne line, I like stupid ? like that. -
wasn't talib kweli biggin' this nikka up some months back about that ""real Gs move in silence like lasagna"? the more that dude opens his mouth to co-sign wack rappers the more respect i lose for him. it's like he's saying any stupid ? just to get on a song with these losers, like that gucci mane album. NO WAY he should defend himself aligning with the sounds of wackness but he still found a way.
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http://smokingsection.uproxx.com/TSS/2011/08/the-15-most-absurd-lyrics-from-lil-waynes-tha-carter-iv?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+uproxx%2Ftss+%28The+Smoking+Section%29#page/1Some MCs live and die by the metaphor and Lil Wayne's ventilator just so happens to have his ABC's on it. While we're still debating on what to make of Tha Carter IV as a whole, we couldn't help but notice Wayne's extremely dependent on his hashtag punchlines, even after they have long been declared dead and Nicki Minaj got ethered for hers.
Due to the terms of his probation, Weezy is most likely drug-free and it may be messing with his creative process. Here's a chunk of Tha Carter IV's most jaw-dropping, head-scratching, baby-babbling moments. All punchlines are not created equal.
Song: "Abortion"
Line: "Jumped on the celly, called Makaveli/He say he was gravy, I say I was jelly"
Reaction: What else but head to desk? Not only is Tupac still alive, he's accepting calls from other rappers now?
Song: "President Carter"
Lyric: "I'm beneficial/I've been official/I say you rappers sweet, tiramissile."
Reaction: Tiramissle? What in the fu...oh! You mean TIRAMISU! Phew, you had us worried for a second there, Tunechi. We thought you were tinkering with some Soviet weapons of mass destruction, seeking to restart the Cold War.
Song: "John"
Line: "I get money to ? time, dead clocks."
Reaction: It's one of those instances where the line would maybe be funny in a rap battle between to local unknowns. But on C4, the line sounds exactly like what it is - a cringe-worthy, starter kit rhyme that should have stayed buried underground. Dead clocks, ladies and gents. Dead clocks.
Song: "So Special"
Line: "Cause she my honey bee, yeah, buzz buzz/And now I’m itching and scratching, that’s that love bug."
Reaction: No, Wayne. That would be ? . A trip to the clinic may be in order.
Song: "Blunt Blowin'"
Line: "Bunch of Bloods, you could call it blood clottin'..."
Reaction: So this is the picture Wayne has painted: Bloods are storming some unlucky punk's abode, when suddenly two tried to rush into the guy's door at the same time. Suddenly, the two Bloods are stuck in the doorway, clotting it and leaving all of the trailing Bloods unable to enter the house as the two leading Bloods have gotten stuck. That's what happens when you have so many Bloods that you call it "blood clot."
Song: "Megaman"
Line: "I'm a diamond in the rough like a baby in the trash"
Reaction: You know what you should not compare your style to? Dead babies. Not something anyone wants to think about when analyzing a rapper's swag level.
Song: “How to Hate”
Line: “Don’t ? with Wayne, cuz when it Wayne’s it pours”
Reaction: Come on Dwayne, despite the deceiving image on the album cover, you’re not in preschool anymore. Act your age.
Song: "Blunt Blowin'"
Line: "All about my riches, my name should be Richard..."
Reaction: In other words, you're all about your cheese so we should call you Cheesy Weezy because this punchline wouldn't even get any "ooh's" in a kindergarten classroom. But whatever you say, "Richard."
Song: "Megaman"
Line: "Weezy gonna ball, ball like Steve Harvey."
Reaction: Can we please ? the "ball like [insert bald person here] punchline please? Steve Harvey is bald! With a "d". You can't just switch out the last letter and attempt to make the punchline work! You can't just take the "m" out of "calm" and say "calm like I used a telephone". Wait, we don't want to give Weezy any ideas.
Song: “6 Foot 7 Foot”
Line: “No matter who’s buying, I’ma celebration...”
Reaction: It’s a double entendre. He’s going to sell-a-bration. Get it? Probably not, because it doesn't make a penny’s worth of sense. It probably would have been better if "bration" was slang for weed. Or codeine.
Song: "It's Good"
Line: "? good as baby powder..."
Reaction: How good does baby powder actually feel? You ever have sex and say "whoo this hoo-ha feels like baby powder!" Or have you ever put on your finest cologne to hit the club and say "I'm going out to get that baby powder ? !" Yeah, didn't think so.
Song: "I Like The View"
Line: "If these walls could talk, they probably won't shut up/I need some wallpaper, before they start to fuss."
Reaction: Skip the other drugs. Weezy's obviously on acid and trippin' ? pretty heavy here.
Song: "6'7'"
Line: "I beat the beat up, call it self defense, swear man/ I be seeing through theses ? like sequins..."
Reaction: Who knew Wayne was dealing with such Clark Kent x-ray vision? Can anyone else in the audience see through sequins? Here's a picture of Nicki Minaj in a sequin dress. She's naked underneath there! Look at those goodies? Can't you see them?
Song: "Nightmares of the Bottom"
Line: To my ? in the game, keep the game fair/Players play, coaches coach and cheerleaders cheer..."
Reaction: And farmers farm, plowers plow, painters paint... Nevermind the simplicity. Wayne is just warming up for his Young Money line of children's books due out next spring.
Song: "Two Shots"
Line: "I could probably do better, but probably's like never."
Reaction: These nine words sum up TC4 as a whole. -
i'm starting to think Wayne was trying to make us laugh ? couldn't have thought this was quality content
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SPIN magazine did a review and gave the album a 6 out of 10, which i think is waaaaaaaaaaay too conservative but then again it's SPIN, what do they know about hip-hop? the comments on the bottom are ridiculous, ? ' ? -jugglin' fans getting ? because he was being half-honest about how ? the album was but not COMPLETELY or else it would've gotten a much lower rating in my opinion.
Lil Wayne
'Tha Carter IV'
Weezy's seemingly sober, post-prison era continues with assorted bangers and whimpers
http://www.spin.com/reviews/lil-wayne-tha-carter-iv-young-moneycash-money?utm_source=SPIN+Media&utm_campaign=650f94bea6-8_30_2011_newsletter&utm_medium=email
Some great artists burst in and burn out. Rappers, especially, struggle to sustain relevance, let alone greatness. What happened this year with Watch the Throne, the conversation-corralling collaboration between Kanye West, 34, and Jay-Z, 41, isn't just an anomaly -- it's a frog storm. Lil Wayne is not yet 29 and has been recording professionally almost exactly as long as West. But he is now, officially, on the other side of greatness.
The run that began in 2004 with the start of his Tha Carter album series, surged in 2006 and 2007, and wrapped sometime near the end of 2009 (before he served an eight-month prison sentence), was among the most prolific, fascinating, and rewarding in rap history. With his literal torrent of mixtapes (particularly Dedication 2 and Da Drought 3), countless crushed cameos, and an unceasing desire to just rap all the time, Dwayne Carter became an avatar for a restless youth culture always sharing and talking and texting and liking its every notion. He was also an astonishingly dexterous artist, evolving in that time from Cash Money junior barker to zonked-out psychedelicist to credible loverman and back again. By iTunes' count, I've got 829 Lil Wayne songs on my MacBook. 3.8 GBs. 1.9 days of music. For years, Lil Wayne rapped. And rapped. (And sung a little.) And rapped.
Eighteen more songs officially land this week with the deluxe edition of Tha Carter IV, his ninth solo album and the first that "counts" since 2008's Tha Carter III. Not a bad record, really. But it's no panoply. Like all of Lil Wayne's albums, it's a mess; unlike some of its predecessors, it's not a terribly ambitious mess, nor is it much fun, which for Wayne is a sin.
On paper, it won't look that way. IV features many of the same elements and signifiers as III, another sloppy effort bolstered by a few drop-the-baby stunners. T-Pain and Busta Rhymes -- along with the producers Bangladesh, Cool & Dre, and Streetrunner -- return to the fray. There is a hard-rapping, invigorating lead single ("6 Foot 7 Foot"), a downy acoustic pop-rap trifle ("How to Love"), and more than a few triumphal statements of purpose. There are concept songs and introspective moments. What's gone is desperation.
Lil Wayne is now somewhat famously sober, where he was once infamously and perpetually high. He no longer sips syrup. And despite evidence to the contrary, alcohol and weed are forbidden -- his probation restricts a once-whirring lifestyle. The hellion's been neutered. No one is asking for addiction to wring his neck again. He's healthy. But you can hear the health in his voice. During that glorious run, the grain and the whine, the growl and the burp, the chuckle and the snap reflected a beyond-years raggedness. Up for days, high on lean, rapping all the time, watching SportsCenter on repeat, eating little more than candy, Wayne was an oversized child with a voice like a homeless dragon, fresh out of fire. Weezy wheezed.
Pair that with his tendency to experiment with cadences and form, and he was legitimately unpredictable. Songs good, bad, great, and baffling were always happening. Not interested in the charred patois of "Mo Fire"? Try the dramatic flourishes of "Georgia…Bush." No love for the pop pursuits of "Lollipop"? Here comes "? Monster." The sweetly sung "Prostitute ? " too delicate a sentiment? Consider the dope-boy purism of "1st Key." You can play this game forever. Wayne was in the cloud before any of us.
Since going clean, that whine is nearly a whinny, and his voice has leaped up an octave -- he yawps a lot now. And when he doesn't, as on the methodical "Nightmares of the Bottom," he sounds a bit like a child affecting daddy's voice while calling in sick from school. Some will point to the clunking nature of various Carter IV rhymes as proof that his powers have faded, and lazy hashtag raps and puny puns abound, sure. "Have it your way -- Burger King." "Light that Ashton Kutcher." "I tried to pay attention but attention paid me / Haters can't see me, nose-bleed seats." But he's never been a rigorous editor -- a groaner or two always got through. Wayne still stomps and swoons, talking sweet nothings at invisible women and barking about money or mistreatment or lame competition or all three ("I'm beneficial / I been official / I say you rappers sweet / Tiramisu"). There is no thematic differentiation from Tha Carter III to IV.
But is it possible for an artist to simply run out of art? Though even the footnotes of his life would be rich source material, Wayne's personal experience has not been a foundational text. He rarely divulges specific moments, despite thousands of millions of rapped words. He talks around life, creating impressions and reflecting desires, but usually keeping the gritty details unexplained. On an album that feels familiar but also distant, this is dangerous.
There is an act of diplomacy (or is it exhaustion?) to Wayne's handling of the album's best recurring musical moment: ? Will's ascending and collapsing brass construction, which provides a fungible foundation for "Intro," "Interlude," and "Outro." Taken together, these tracks comprise the head, heart, and toes of Tha Carter IV, creating a space for rappers of disparate styles to work out. The roll call includes: an authoritative Bun B, an unusually engaged Nas, an uncredited and typically dazzling Andre 3000, plus the album's most fortunate guest, gifted Kansas City indie-rap vet Tech N9ne, who will pick up a fan or 5,000 with his tenacious verse.
All of these men succeed where Wayne fails. Of the three tracks, he only raps on "Intro," alone, and makes arguably the least compelling contribution. (That will depend on how you feel about Shyne's verse, a harrumphing, aching, and wholly raw stab at menace.) Taken together, the triptych is antiseptic. Accomplished, but hollow. Why does Wayne extricate himself from two of the album's most crucial moments? It can't be fear. If it's magnanimity, it's misplaced.
Wayne's taste is still impeccable -- those guests and others shine, like Rick Ross, Jadakiss, and, most crucially, Drake, who shows up twice, on the turgid "She Will" and the tense, magnificent "It's Good." On the latter, his verse, an angry and emphatic recounting of Wayne's trial and incarceration, acts as an introduction to what should be a crowning moment. But the Young Money-affiliated quasi-mentee, so often a puddle of emotion and sonic texture, sounds furious and offended by the circumstances. Is it a torch pass? Not quite. They're different artists with different goals. But Drake's focus is instructive.
Wayne, instead, confronts Jay-Z, as subtle and punishing a subliminal artist as rap has ever known. Wayne's snipe is a response to Jay's maybe-he-did-maybe-he-didn't couplet from "H.A.M.," mocking the "baby money" of Bryan "Baby" Williams, Cash Money's CEO and Wayne's de facto paterfamilias. Wayne raps, "Talkin 'bout baby money? / I got your baby money / Kidnap your ? , get that 'How much you love your lady?' money / I know you fake, ? , press your brakes, ? ."
Threatening to kidnap Beyoncé -- an impossible and silly proposition -- reveals gullibility. In this era of ignored beef and ignoble instigation, this is an impetuous and sad cry for attention. Jay will not respond, not directly, and Wayne knows this. Still, he's put piety to his boss and father figure above cool. It's a rare moment of audacity, but the reward is minimal. There's something to be said for staying above the fray.
Wayne was a great king, a transcendent artist, and a totem. He's allowed to not be The Guy anymore. Think of him like The Simpsons, a once essential and enduring cultural institution operating past its expiration date (sometimes a gag sticks; mostly you skip it, unless there's a good guest). We won't hold Tha Carter IV against Lil Wayne. He remains a compelling artist and a standard-bearer for a generation of endlessly productive rappers. But nothing lasts forever. Weezy is dead. Long live Weezy.
By Sean Fennessey -
stringer bell wrote: »
man how can ANYBODY think this was a good album? WORST ALBUM OF THE YEAR if you ask me--it get's my vote! -
Straight Papoose status!
"You moving backwards like 7 to 6!"
When I heard that wack ? I was done with Papoose.
