COMPLEX: Fabolous Is The Best Mixtape Rapper Ever

Why Fabolous is the Best Mixtape Rapper Ever.


Calling someone the “best mixtape rapper ever” feels like a pseudo-compliment; a conditional plaudit not much different than being the tastiest tofu or the midget with the biggest ? . It’s also not completely clear. Do you mean they consistently produce the best mixtapes? Or are you saying they're the best at “mixtape rap”—an NYC-centric hip-hop subgenre where rappers spit over recycled beats other rappers already made popular?

If it’s the former, the praise is acceptable. Drake and J. Cole are among the several who've used great mixtapes as springboards to major-label success. And some legitimate stars—Rick Ross in particular—craft mixtapes with the same meticulousness as their albums.

If it’s the latter, who the hell would want to be that? There’s no money in that. No award show love. No magazine features. No impact. No legacy.

But thinking of mixtape rapping that way reduces hip-hop to a zero-sum game. With clear winners (Kanye West, Jay Z, Kendrick Lamar, etc) and losers (pretty much everyone else). It ignores the visceral value of first hearing a complex sequence of rewind-worthy lines, and the appreciation of craft present when recognizing both simile and assonance within the first two bars of a verse. Basically, it forgets why we’re fans of rap in the first place. Nas isn’t your favorite rapper because It Was Written went triple platinum and you liked him in Belly.
He’s your favorite rapper because the first verse on "The Message" blew your ? mind.
Calling someone the “best mixtape rapper ever” feels like a pseudo-compliment; a conditional plaudit not much different than being the tastiest tofu or the midget with the biggest ? . It’s also not completely clear. Do you mean they consistently produce the best mixtapes? Or are you saying they're the best at “mixtape rap”—an NYC-centric hip-hop subgenre where rappers spit over recycled beats other rappers already made popular?

If it’s the former, the praise is acceptable. Drake and J. Cole are among the several who've used great mixtapes as springboards to major-label success. And some legitimate stars—Rick Ross in particular—craft mixtapes with the same meticulousness as their albums.

If it’s the latter, who the hell would want to be that? There’s no money in that. No award show love. No magazine features. No impact. No legacy.

But thinking of mixtape rapping that way reduces hip-hop to a zero-sum game. With clear winners (Kanye West, Jay Z, Kendrick Lamar, etc) and losers (pretty much everyone else). It ignores the visceral value of first hearing a complex sequence of rewind-worthy lines, and the appreciation of craft present when recognizing both simile and assonance within the first two bars of a verse. Basically, it forgets why we’re fans of rap in the first place. Nas isn’t your favorite rapper because It Was Written went triple platinum and you liked him in Belly. He’s your favorite rapper because the first verse on "The Message" blew your ? mind.

Calling someone the “best mixtape rapper ever” feels like a pseudo-compliment; a conditional plaudit not much different than being the tastiest tofu or the midget with the biggest ? . It’s also not completely clear. Do you mean they consistently produce the best mixtapes? Or are you saying they're the best at “mixtape rap”—an NYC-centric hip-hop subgenre where rappers spit over recycled beats other rappers already made popular?

If it’s the former, the praise is acceptable. Drake and J. Cole are among the several who've used great mixtapes as springboards to major-label success. And some legitimate stars—Rick Ross in particular—craft mixtapes with the same meticulousness as their albums.

If it’s the latter, who the hell would want to be that? There’s no money in that. No award show love. No magazine features. No impact. No legacy.

But thinking of mixtape rapping that way reduces hip-hop to a zero-sum game. With clear winners (Kanye West, Jay Z, Kendrick Lamar, etc) and losers (pretty much everyone else). It ignores the visceral value of first hearing a complex sequence of rewind-worthy lines, and the appreciation of craft present when recognizing both simile and assonance within the first two bars of a verse. Basically, it forgets why we’re fans of rap in the first place. Nas isn’t your favorite rapper because It Was Written went triple platinum and you liked him in Belly. He’s your favorite rapper because the first verse on "The Message" blew your ? mind.

http://www.complex.com/music/2014/02/fabolous-best-mixtape-rapper-essay