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• Section 80 forum rap crack#

And certain moments just make me wince so hard, like this one, from "Hol' Up": "I wrote this record while 30,000 feet in the air/ Stewardess complimenting me on my nappy hair/ If I could fuck her in front of all these passengers/ They'd probably think I'm a terrorist." Those few lines add up to a repellent cauldron of horniness, persecution-complex fantasies, exhibitionism, and plain old youthful Bad Idea Jeans indulgence. Section.80 is an hour long, and it could drop probably a quarter of its running time without anyone missing anything. Given that Lamar is a talented and earnest young man with a lot to say and no big label nudging his music toward accessibility, it's only natural that he'd lose his way every once in a while. When he talks to girls, he sometimes recalls the supportively sincere Goodie Mob of "Beautiful Skin", actually counseling against cosmetics on "No Make-Up (Her Vice)": "Don't you know your imperfections is a wonderful blessing?/ From heaven is where you got it from." (Somehow, the redundant double-"from" makes the sentiment all the more adorable.) And he also recognizes self-destructive tendencies in himself: "I used to wanna see the penitentiary way after elementary/ Thought it was cool to look the judge in the face when he sentenced me." But it's not like he's some preacher/prophet figure he says "suck my dick" often enough that it gets boring. When he looks around, Lamar sees self-hate, nihilism, institutionalized oppression.

Section 80 forum rap crack#

Everywhere he looks, Lamar sees generational symptoms of the kids who came from the era of crack and Ronald Reagan. "You know why we crack babies cuz we born in the 80s," Lamar raps on the excellently emo relationship-song " A.D.H.D.", and that's a theme that comes up over and over. It's a young thinker attempting to describe the world as he sees it.

A couple of guys from Lamar's Black Hippy crew- those guys really sound like Souls of Mischief when they get together- show up, but the album isn't a guest-heavy affair. The production, mostly from relative unknowns like THC and Sounwave, is almost uniformly excellent- a spaced-out blur of astral horns and blissed-out Fender Rhodes, with drums that only knock when they need to. Instead, it gives him a chance to chase his muse wherever it runs. Section.80, Lamar's new album, arrives on a wave of blog-based buzz, but beyond a couple of ill-advised choruses, it doesn't make much attempt to present Lamar to major-label A&Rs or to a wider audience. Instead, he's very much within the tradition of 90s groups like Souls of Mischief or the Pharcyde- self-deprecating and insanely talented kids who routinely ripped dizzy, slip-sliding flows over mellow jazz breaks. and urges listeners to “build your own pyramids, write your own hieroglyphs.” Upon the album's release, some listeners thought this stuff was too radical for Lamar to ever fully break into the mainstream but the maverick was on the threshold of something even bigger.Lamar does exist within a strong West Coast continuum, but it has nothing to do with Dre. Ultimately, though, Section.80 channels that unrest into a quest for enlightenment on the knocking “HiiiPower,” Lamar conjures visions of Martin Luther King, Jr. “You know why we crack babies? Because we born in the ’80s,” Lamar spits on lead single “A.D.H.D.,” a generational study as sharp as it is catchy. The title itself combines Section 8 housing, the low-income developments in which Lamar was raised, with the decade of Lamar’s birth he thus fashioned himself an ambassador for a generation raised under Ronald Reagan and the crack epidemic. Over jazzy beats suited for contemplative spells, Lamar raps like he’s searching, bar by bar, for answers to America’s biggest questions, turning a critical eye on his own reality and the systems that reinforce it.

Los Angeles hip-hop needed a new hero, and Lamar stepped up to the plate.īut Section.80 was far from a bid for mainstream attention.

rap around the time Lamar was forming his Black Hippy super-group (alongside Jay Rock, Ab-Soul, and ScHoolboy Q) was the jerkin’ movement, a fun but frivolous dance craze. Los Angeles’ old guard of gangsta rap greats was waning the hottest trend in L.A. Dre, he was barely out of the shadow of his Top Dawg Entertainment labelmate Jay Rock, on whose tour Lamar still regularly served as hype-man. The rapper formerly known as K-Dot had built a buzz prior to his 2011 breakthrough album, but the Compton native still had everything to prove: In spite of a coveted co-sign from Dr.