Worst Things Ever: 5 Moments of Mind-Boggling Stupidity in Rap Music

Look, I get white guilt as much as the next honky with several generations of family involved in the sugar and cotton industries. But there comes a point in the life of any man who understands that he's whiter than builder's tea; one single, significant moment when he realises that sure, as an Englishmen, he's culturally responsible for centuries of slavery, slaughter and straight-up, religious genocide, but: [looking furtively in every direction], should he actually feel bad about what those shitty ancestors of his did?

Answer: No. If our generation were to have a specific superhero, his name would be Grandson Hindsight and his superpower would be apologising profusely to anyone with a different skin tone, religion or fruity point of view. But fuck that guy. I've covered moments of catastrophic idiocy in areas as diverse as people falling over, Star Wars and Harry Potter and I see no reason that contributions to the cultural mire made by people of similar ethnicity to me should be the only ones vulnerable to attack.

This is my way of saying I'm not racist, of course. But you, whoever you are, whatever your background, your upbringing, your faith, your goddamn, fucking anything, can't deny that failure isn't unique to any culture. Whether Black, Asian, Near-Asian, Hispanic or Caucasian or whatever, you've all managed to produce total, fizzing shit and deserve to be called on your horseshit as much as anyone else.

[And before anyone gets uppity about my prior, violently vocal distaste for Black Eyed Peas, I think everyone would agree when I say that whatever their individual ethnicities, no-one who shares them would care to admit they exist.]

Macklemore punching hip-hop convention in the mouth. And no-one of note giving a single fuck.

This is an easy starting point, obviously, as Macklemore is white. Which means that I get to say Ben Haggerty writes thought-provoking rhymes like admitting that you have tapeworm improves your chances with the ladies with absolutely no threat of racial backlash.

His smash hit, Thrift Shop does the unthinkable by suggesting hipsters were right about clothes shopping, via the medium of rap! Because that's always been a scientifically proven way to convey public security announcements. What hip-hop conventions is he so eloquently undermining, you ask? Well, the assumption that all rappers want is to spend money, of course!

Macklemore's apparent respect for buying used is at complete odds with the hip-hop community's obsession with labels. With ostentatious displays of wealth. Disregarding this guy's complete inability to write even vaguely intelligent lines (and I do mean that, I've seen deaf chickens do better out on the ranch) I'd almost side with him on this subject, had Kreayshawn not written the exact same song, and much better, almost a year ago.

I'm starting to think that Google was right to assume that I wanted information on Prostate Specific Antigens, back when I searched 'PSA'.

Eddie Murphy rapping about putting things in your butt.

That's right. All the way.

Let me get real for a second. I would not, for one second (provided that second didn't give me a chance to mention anything to do with The Nutty Professor, Norbit, Dr Dolittle, Daddy Daycare or ... nevermind ) suggest that Eddie Murphy isn't a supreme genius. This is the man who gave us the donkey from Shrek, people. But also Boogie In Your Butt. Which fiscally rescinds any reverence you might have for him upon receipt of the following lyrics:

'Put a telephone! In your butt!

Put a dinosaur bone! In your butt!

Put a radiator! In your butt!'

Other things the star of The Golden Child and Beverly Hills Cop suggests that you put inside you include: a bumblebee, a tree, a big rock, some dynamite and him. Suddenly, Dreamgirls is bringing back (back bacon) some very different memories for you, isn't it? It's OK. That's exactly how Eddie wants it. 

Das Racist bucking all accusations that they're fucking high as shit all the time -- by rapping about food. Pretty much exclusively.

Never let it be said that I purely focus my hatred at particular sections of society. So far we've covered white as all shit, black and now we come to Das Racist. A double act of Victor Vasquz: Afro-Cuban Italian & Heems: A Queens-raised, South-Asian, both of which spend their time writing mostly hilarious, pervasive rap pertaining to weed, fast-food and casual racism. Clearly, I've now covered all possible ethnic denominations. Cheers for that, Das Racist.  

Like it sounds, and contrary to everyone else so far, I have a lot of love for these guys. Constructing a song from the bones of Sister Sledge's We Are Family and twisting it to make fun of how we dumbass white folk can't tell one Puerto Rican from another gets you plenty respect round my way, provided you can be literate or witty about it and they sure, damn, are. However, this particular song would be an exception to the rule that Das Racist just love to talk about fudz. 

Songs about or at least pertaining to: Burgers, pizza, tacos and as far as I know, at least four different kinds of cheese are the norm for these guys. And in the case of choosing a standout, we have a knock-up. On the one hand, there's Combination Pizza Hut & Taco Bell. On the other: There's Chicken & Meat. Take your pick, Internet, but frankly, it doesn't make much difference to these guys, provided their dealer is on board.

Rappers the world over going to extreme lengths to talk about their wangs.

What are you expecting here? If I listed every rap artist to ever spend a little too much time pontificating on the length of their man-hammer, I'd be here all goddamn night. No, instead, I'll examine the most egregious example of a rapper's Oedipus complex and again, it comes from an artist that I actually like. 

Kendrick Lamar's Backseat Freestyle succinctly represents everything stupid about the entire culture of rap's obsession with out-dicking the guy next to you at the urinal. And conveniently, it's all up there in the chorus: 

'All my life I want money and power
Respect my mind or die from lead shower
I pray my dick get big as the Eiffel Tower
So I can fuck the world for seventy two hours'

That's not a clever, poignant reference to anything, no matter what Rap Genius might say. Lamar, the guy I had so much respect for for writing a song for alcoholics everywhere, just made it clear that all he really wants is to be rich and have a bigger cock than is socially expected. And/or, physically possible.

Having a penis you could use as a neck-tie has become a symbol of power, along with the guns, rims and the jewels and it kind of makes me sad. Because I remember a time when all rappers wanted was to gesticulate at knee-high cameras as if it would fuck with the local police, not the planet's incarnated vagina or economic balance.

Everything about these people.

What makes a song classifiable as rap? Is it the machinegun, pop-pop-pop of the lyrical delivery? Is it the creator's race? Is it a thematic obsession with cock-size, money, drugs and/or fucking the listener in the arse? I posit to you, that it is the first of those things which makes it possible for anyone to produce rap songs about anything. And therefore, allows a plane of existence in which this can exist. 

I first came across MC Mong's Ice Cream as a young, naive man who knew nothing of the absolute, screaming insanity with which the entire culture of the East operates. I don't mean that as a criticism, in fact, that's precisely why I enjoy their music, film and tv. But I can almost garuntee that this madness is new to you, so allow me to explain:

They are batshit, fucking crazy over there. Gift a gorilla to a Japanese guy and he will immediately throw it into a ring with a world class kickboxer. Explain the concept of magic to a Korean, and his first impulse will be to make a feature-length film about a wizard transported to modern-day Seoul. 

Basically, these people kick arse so it should come as something of a surprise to find that their interpretation of 'rap' is to spit lyrics that would count as medicinal dick dissolver in any other culture by making as many references to chocolate, hearts and thanking you kindly for loving me as possible. Just... just check out the video, though. The actual song hasn't been going thirty seconds and you've already seen a rickshaw, teddybear, and a creepy, animated face superimposed on a cat. That should prove a pretty decent summary of all the other stupidity you're about to see.

And while we're busily taking the piss out of the non-English speaking peoples' attempts at rap, why not mention this absurdity?

Oh, yeah. Umm, warning, exposed titties and several flapping cocks in about, err, ten second ago.

Die Antwoord are South African and produce genuinely, fucking knockout tunes despite all their numerous, numerous mental illnesses. On this occasion, the video actually gives a slightly overestimated image of their general, shit-eating quirkiness. Sure, there's a whole lot more shirtless crotch-thrusting than you might be used to, as well as a general Zeno Clash by way of H.R. Giger kind of vibe to the set design, but Giger was at least vaguely subtle with his inclusion of genitalia in goddamn everything he ever worked on.

But subtlety to Die Antwoord is what lighting is to Tim Burton: obscenely absent. There are more erect phalli in the video for Evil Boy than at an Eton swimming event. But as I've said, despite all their apparent chemical imbalances, these guys and gal are the closest this list has actually come to, if not the best, then the most consistently talented rappers. So what does that say about the genre? Err, that the inclusion of more references to reproductive organs is good? I feel like I've contradicted myself here somewhere. Ahh screw it. I'm going to listen to Ice Cream one more time. What harm can it do?