You know rap (or any other musical form) is dead when people start telling artists what they should rap about. The mere idea that music, like television, is merely a medium for sale to the highest bidder (or loftiest goal) independent or indeed in spite of its writers, composers and artists, is how we get the dumbing down – the consumerification – of art.
It’s how we get the remake of Fame, a whitewashed, watered down, safe version of a better movie. It’s as if the producers cynically believe people can’t deal with reality and thus try to put on the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia and moral righteousness as much as they can in order to make it palatable to people not in the mood to be challenged or… motherfucker. That’s what it is, isn’t it?
Also, this. Tennis player gets a bad call in the middle of a big match, loses shit. No story. What, she’s Black? STORY!