Now I have to hear these kids on the microphone deteriorating the entire history of a once-honorable and fearless music genre with every word they attempt to rhyme. I want a story like Pharcyde used to pitch to me. I don’t want nursery rhymes, Mr Lil Wayne. Scare me with your words like your mentor Juvenile did, you pansy. And look at your damn face and mouth. You make Michael Jackson look sane and handsome.
Conclusion: Go fuck yourself, hipster rappers (even though I’m listening to your music right now). And may God bless the holy Rick Ross, who is the sole remnant of a lost spirit known as Gangsta.
Come back, Coolio.