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Rating: Nightmares have robbed me of sleep. I'll die tired, damn it....
Hoooorn, you can't die, you have to save the site. You're the messiah, the freak show we've been waiting for for millennia. You can't die...
My mind plays nasty tricks on me: images I don't want to see, faces I wish would fade, and words as heavy as boulders. The king of idiots, the one who deceived the devil, the bastard who screws your women while you're here on Debaser, the good guy in a sick city. And I've become sick too. Always labeled as the ultimate monster, the one who screws you over if you even turn around for a nanosecond, the one who annihilates you for personal pleasure. But I'm none of that....
If they tell you you're a son of a bitch, you have to silence them and say "no ugly dogs, I am THE son of a bitch, put it in your thick skulls. If it's a concept you can't grasp, then make some space, because with all those fourth-rate TV shows, rhetoric-filled conversations, and Vogue frames, you've even screwed yourselves."
A good guy in a bad city: you find a girl you think might bring a significant change to your life and instead nothing, it's just another circus crap. My uncle Attilio always said that serious women are in nightclubs, while the girls roam around high schools and universities with a constant stuck-up attitude. I never gave him a second thought, and maybe I was wrong, considering my aunt objectively is a beautiful woman with an incredible character. My uncle, on the other hand, is totally messed up. But who cares about my uncle...
My cocaine-addict cousin, on the other hand, suggested a threesome with his wife: look, if she were hot, I'd accept, but my penis refuses to enter ravaged caves. Damn it, have some self-respect.
Aaaaaah women: actually, no, girls; one day it's eternal love, the next day it's an uncontrollable hatred. Aaaaah Little Horn: one day he's thoughtful and the next he's banging your mom. And if he feels like it, even your sister. GOT IT, DAMN?
A good guy in a bad city: the city of Bloods and Crips, G Funk, Dr. Dre, and 2pac. The most hated city by old-generation rap listeners. The most loved by new-generation listeners. Kendrick Lamar, an inhuman rapper: incredible flow, technique, and content. Devastating delivery. Practically the revelation of 2012.
Now, let's say this isn't an album, but an actual film with a soundtrack: an enviable masterpiece, with a pulp structure and an engaging plot. Spectacular narration and damn it, take it and listen to it. This is the story of someone who wants to get out of the shit and finally makes it, who eats tons of crap and then vomits diamonds, who overdoses on depression day after day. A manifesto of the desire to change, of perseverance and persistence. Kendrick tells this story and he does it like a god, with the help of a team of highly skilled producers (The Neptunes and Just Blaze should ring a bell, damn it) who for the occasion create a varied and multifaceted sound carpet, which paradoxically turns out to be cohesive. An excursion into Lamar's mind and the life of the ghettos. Gloomy atmospheres, sometimes more relaxed, sometimes oppressive. A tribute to the West Coast of the past, and a look at what will be. A good guy in a sick city.
And Kendrick made it: delivered the best rap album of 2012, makes us all cry a little, and makes millions. I, however, never change: I change people, I change the world, but I remain the same damn self-destructive person. Reznor, what the hell are you looking at? Go jerk off on that Year Zero crap, asshole. I've been flirting with death lately: it whispers sweet words in my ear, makes astounding promises, and reassures me. Life is a bitch and I know sleep is its cousin. Death, according to Lil Wayne, is life's sister. What kind of family picture is this?
If you see mine: between my idiot father, my perverted cocaine-addict cousin, and my half-philosopher half-fool uncle, I beat anyone. And well, Little Horn is here but for how long? I think until some idiot goes crazy and kills me. Misery must not die. But I'm not that famous: or am I?
On the street, they greet me <<Dude, you're crazy!>> and I respond with a loud fuck you. Related to shit, I've never been. Related to the worst human cases, yes, but to shit never. Damn it, one has to specify.
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