Fugees
Blunted On Reality

"Cause they know when you grab this man
you just be ciphin' knowledge man, knowledge as we buildin' up man
That's why they want no brothers to be out here man, you know I'm sayin'?"

The story of the Fugees is that of three kids who, since middle school, intended to make their voices heard by the world. A group formed by the shy Pras, the carefree Wyclef Jean, and the charismatic and intense Lauryn Hill, they have always been at the center of both old and new hip-hop culture, in which they managed to break several clichés and prejudices posed by a predominantly narrow-minded and chauvinistic culture. Their debut "Blunted on Reality" is the first chapter of the Fugees saga, considered by many to be the true (and only) pioneers of hip-hop music. The intellectual kind. The consecration came in 1996 with "The Score," an album of significant depth, especially conceptually, where several dogmas and axioms typical of the urban territory are overturned. The Fugees are not afraid to claim their own origins, to expose their fears and feelings, at times showing vulnerability, placing in rhyme that soul that has always been missing in the black world, excluding the soul and gospel sectors. And perhaps this is what is missing from the Fugees' first album. A bit more soul, black soul. That vibrant soul that made "The Score" a masterpiece.

Political protest, anger, and incredible strength, not just inner. Topics addressed in a growing atmosphere of total urban immersion, predominant and never cryptic. With this 1994 work, they made themselves known by the general public, which only received this talented band tepidly. Musically, the album appears very compact, well-constructed but still not too revolutionary or pioneering. Very slight hints of jazz mingle with Afro, reggae, and sometimes shrewd hard hip-hop sounds. Besides, there's no surprise there, the times are not yet ripe. The beautiful Lauryn in this album is still fossilized in the character of a rap woman, drawing from models like Queen Latifah, strong and not very vibrant in their sweetness and instability. Instability that in the following years became a characteristic trait of Hill, a restless woman, fragile in her strength, politically engaged, and angry with the world. In "Blunted on Reality" what is missing is precisely the sensitization to themes close not only to the political and intellectual side of the group but also to the human side. While on one hand, the important theme of the Haitian refugee situation and a large part of the American governmental system is criticized, on the other hand, what's missing is the completely crystalline sincerity present in the Fugees' subsequent work. Excellent tracks like Boof Baf, Temple, and especially the energetic Happy Heads, perhaps one of Lauryn's best raps, and Vocab is also very successful, an acoustic version that seems to pave the way for the band's posthumous production. Perhaps below par tracks like Giggles (although very enjoyable) and Refugees on the Mic, pieces still too anchored to some peculiar stereotypes of hip-hop doctrine, especially of the time, particularly from an instrumental point of view.

A good album, very good...but the best is yet to come. A couple of years and the game is done. Here is the text of Vocab ^^

You got the vocab
I got the vocab
You got the vocab
You know I got the vocab
You got the vocab
I got the vocab
Hey, yo pass the mic so I can tell 'em I got the gift o' gab

Monkey see, monkey what? Monkey, monkey be yourself.
Hey yo catch me when I'm sober, but now I drink for the belt.
So pass the root straight to the right hand side.
Make no mistake that the buzz is a natural high.
I said it's big emergency mind your busy body
He hit me. I broke his nose. The referee's Mr Fuji.
So hey to the blue jay, mocking bird don't mock.
The last bird who mocked he got caught in my roughneck chicken pot.
So Mr Rooster give me a crookedy croo at 6am
He looked at me a laughin' said my music would make F.M.
Station. You're Haitian. You'll never get nowhere.
But I sweared on my grandmother grave we'd be here.
So now when I back track
I back track far enough to make a nigga run and leave his tongue back.
You think I'm cool I think you're cruel so here's a shell cap.
On your gluteus maximus and leave ya handicapped.
Ratatatat.

Chorus

Hoboes above leave the boat for the Pope 
Boat people here we go Hi De Hi De Hi De Ho Yeah
Some quest for the truth, some bust a loop.
And search for some knowledge that come runnin' in the woods.
And if I should a choose to be one
Then I will be a ???? hoodin' with books and look to kill.
My proof is in my puddin'
If I chill in the hood would you be say that I'm hoodin'?
Now. Let me exercise a new style that will brutalise
MCs into a warpath genocide.
Nobody move, nobody get hurt. It's a homocide
So jump jump punks ready to get stuck.
Evil Kenevil was my man, someone for the stunts.
I'm mostly fillies, I'm just straight up front, ha.
Meat ya tryin' to light up you get blast like nitrogen.
Runnin' for mercy, runnin' for oxygen.
Bad L.A. meat you're better off comittin' suicide.
I shoot the lip so high I strip you of your carbon dioxide
Rock-a-bye the lullaby he be singin' 'Oh my'.
Boof Baff another son a go die.

What's the matter with the black man?
Now a statistic. So dreams of her become realistic.
Poor bastard gets mystic I don't believe you checked the psychic
Emancipate your mind. Don't set the limit. Reach the summit.
Free your spirit 'cause your blunted
From the lyrics I just stuttered.
'Live off the streets' says the brother with the machete.
'Live off the lady' says the brother with the glock in patrol.
I live logically, no weak slave to poverty.
You see it's very easy to slip between the asphalt sheet.
Brothers from my way they used to get mad plays.
Till they caught us bustin' doughnuts 'til the break of day.
Brother, my brother, you played me undercover.
She wouldn't be your lover so now you tried to dis her
For sister. You missed her but ask yourself a question.
Can I make a suggestion? I need a true confession.
Is she skivs 'cause the skin that she's in makes you sin?
Does you hit her just to get her integrate another sister?
Mister. I asked him for a hanky. He asked if he could spank me.
So why'd you disrespect me, sir?
Were you thinking I'm misguided or were you tryin to hide it
That you had no father figure.
Which? Check out your wackness. It won't distrust my blackness.
I wonder for a smack, but don't think that it would help this.

What's the matter with the black man 

All original gunman dem original good

Come jackin' it up an' I bad an' me fell in ma booby trap
With a rappin' up for the eight track play back laid back sit back
An I'll ???? an me runnin' ???? as a matter a fact
'Cause I trappin' a back like a cool six pack now bring it back. Woah!

United we stand, divided we crumble.
What's the flavour? More Babylon, more Babylon, more Babylon fall 

These days every man want to be a god.
Lay down the gun every man on the floor.
But the real gunman him not play Hollywood role.
Because he pull out his gun and send another boy down.
Watch us bleed. Another gunman go bleed.
Watch us bleed. If I used up all my dust I got?
Watch us bleed. Me up an' comin' ready.
Watch us bleed. Watch us for original Tranzlator Crew.
Oh, er, every time we come, we come correct, see.
We out