Angry like off a read of a shady Jay zag zigging
jewelry for the six sextillion tales
of page six gossip correspondents.
Black like the Yellow surface
of a deep dark well
by the side of a Mayfield.
Listen! Crazy Baldheads!
Who gwon fight Babylon aside Rasta
but dem onyx’d crazy baldheads?!
There’s a gang of services this Hip Hop gotta give a brother. And this life’s too real for those eminem candies of angst that sweeten the palette of casual break fienders and popular rhyme lusters. But I’m Black, that Brown proud shade of it, child of the welfared conditioning and colonial conquest. Puerto Rican property, I’m terror-taught to bootstrap up, put down the bomba thoughts and assimilate the plena perseverance and son, son, sing song my freedoms through a false culture. But 1,2,3 little pigs can’t arrest this fury! I only need a score of roaring words hurled through deep bass and sharp snare in rugged B-Boy measures. So Stik ‘n’ muve, live niguz slam em with ya gunz in the air! That’s the way we gotta walk in New York cause we just dont fuckin care! Word is bond the babies is the greatest. Yes, we need work to a deeper righteousness that the math borns but an anarchist score is a mandatory muthafuckin malt shop melody. Needle on Onyx, music of brawling baldhead beast beat talk stalk.
Tell me Fredro and Sticky Fingaz some actors in shits I don’t watch. Tell me Sticky can’t box or Fredro popped out. A Hip Hop writer can only be real, reveal the Art of Real and end it all as a creation on creation. Fredro and Sticky have a history of illness and oddities in this world we pay into and vital wrath is sold as disposable angst. Consequently, their great echelon of excellence and the peak of popularity become two different lands of masses occupying. The 93 debut Bacdafucup LP is the quality model for peak popularity they sought to recreate with the more trebled, weaker breaked and casio digi’d Bacdafucup Part II and the worse Triggernometry LP that g-unit’d choruses with interesting interview segments in between. However, their echelon of excellence is 1995’s All We Got Iz Us, an incredible LP of directed anger with all the escapist release from the oppression’s rage and the contradictory reality that we are superimposed into in the US ghettos.
#Wakedafucup is still based on recreating the past. They just go back in time more effectively this time. Produced by the Snowgoons, beatmakers of respectable skill but of the rehashed Boom Bap rank offer tracks that let Sticky and Fredro show their rugged cleverness through grimy vocals. The depth of the content and Snowgoons’ limitations on melodic formats are what makes the overall musical theme derivative and even disposable when one goes back to ‘95. However, the worth of #Wakedafucup is that as hardcore stylists Fredro and Sticky still excel in the tough stuff. The listener can apply his furious anger and release or the angst ridden suburb teen can revel in the many highlights of precision. “Boom” is an ideal track that epitomizes the entire #Wakedafucup reality. Sounding horns and a digital rise vamp bring in a strong marching band bass drum and barrel snares push Fredro in. Fredro rolls short phrases with smooth syllable syncopated bars that keep melody with the distant steady driving bassline. The chorus samples the Busta’s “powerful impact ,Boom! from the cannon” that Black Moon started their LP legacy with. Here, Snowgoons update with supreme scratchwork as the “third verse.” A strong track with no flaw, favoring execution over all daring in experimentation. Tracks like “The Realest” with grumbling basslines and emphasis on the oft achieved thud snare effect Snowgoons or “Hustlin Hour” focusing on the bassdrum and bassline fusion and quick crunch snare all are expected hardcore. The best is when the drum arrangements are merely metronome into repetitiveness as the powerful “We Don’t Fuckin Care” where Nothing is done wrong but nothing is done innovatively.
Lyrically, Sticky and Fredro work better than the last decade in adding some tracks of content. Their toughest tracks are strong offshoots of their ’93 storming introductions (“Whut Whut”) and their fuck-up-e’rythin joints (“Turndafucup”). Concept songs as “The Tunnel” and “Dirty Cops” don’t have the vigor due to the stagnation in Snowgoon’s mid-tempo pacing. Still, these are the songs that Star and Fingaz, wiser and seasoned, can really drop precise jewels innovating anthems of content as opposed to mere wildout. Since the 2000’s there is an embraced cliché, a useful assumption they seem to embrace that defies the truth of Sticky Fingaz lyrical ingenuity for commentary and Fredro’s growth toward that (i.e. 2013’s Made In The Streets solo LP). The ideas often still stay with the money on the niche when Dope D.O.D. offer little but angst on the title track or silly verbed Asap Ferg nearly ruins the LP’s best shit. They place excess focus on excelling on the raw battle track (i.e. “Buc Bac,” “Hammers on Deck”) but were still prepared enough for the best lyricist feature, Reks, on “One 4 Da Team.” Again, the Snowgoons tempo is off which exposes the bland chorus, so it doesn’t highlight the fire Reks’ delivers with, diving from the streets to the builds of historical revolutionary militants along with Sticky’s wild fluctuations and growled punchlines.
#Wakedafucup is miles and miles iller than Onyx’ 00’s work and Snowgoons consistently give an honorable recreation of the aural hell of ills Sticky and Fredro built their best off of. So we, the oppressed, downtrodden, need this fiery score in bulk but these wiser elders have stronger weapons that may take them away from the angst peaks of niche pop they can reach but get to a level of supremacy when they made albums for us. All that they got we get and here, we awakened to MCs that still can fuck it up. So it’s a little fucked up but I’ll fucking use it to fuck shit up with cause Onyx still fuck shit up. We fuckin need it!