All meats be upon him. All praises due to pause. The bones to hold, the flesh to grab and the blood to lust for. Replace the living water left with the burning oils of hell, fried chicken, a tragic staple of the nigga. Hip Hop, a stable that holds the illest niggas, filled with disease, vomiting rigormortis in psalms of style and dying ageless because the leaders are always the next righteous young. BAM! Another leader shot dead! Hold up a drumstick in honor, even we vegans salute, the Waze of mastered contradiction and profound insight in such clappable forms.
“Not materialistic but I’ll be damned if I don’t grab the loot…” then wordplay on coup… “speaking to some of heaven’s best through a retracted roof/known as the clouds, under them I bring the actions through/plans of waking up to an average mansion view…,” Waze is filled with cleverness and style that thrives way past the hilarious video treatment. Since Waze’s earliest records his study of MCing has only increased with his understanding leading to the ever emerging gift of building without building. The Bruce Lee MCing comes from not throwing rhymes at us but actually conversing with us, the listener, his brothers and sisters. His comedy here isn’t coonish, its actually funny and purposeful, true Black comedy.
The Ca$ito Del Fresco beat has an inviting horn that preps us for the glide of its boom bass’d beat that rolls with accelerated high hat structures with enough bap for expert MCing. With it we see again Willie Waze, one of Alexandria, VA’s finest who for years has been one of the great freshman way too oversized for sellout mags. Still, always perfectly fitted for his people vibing ideas with them like, “Cooling at the bottom because I know that spot well/I learned to watch the wise guys and hear what the mind tell/cause when you turn your back they have you leaking out spine gel/ a betrayal really do leave a foul smell/so even weigh the trust of your friends…”