Lupe Fiasco is one of the most lyrically vigilant rappers since KRS-One. And like the former head of the historic Boogie Down Productions crew, Fiasco s rhymes often are overlooked.
That might be because Fiasco doesn t rap about selling cocaine and doesn t refer to women as Don Imos did Doing so would, presumably, sell more records for Fiasco, who vaulted to almost-fame with a guest verse on Kanye West s Touch the Sky.
Fiasco dented underground hip-hop with his sniper-like rhyming on his Fahrenheit 1/15 mixtape trilogy. Lyrical cadence is a weapon in hip-hop, but few rappers have the lethality of Fiasco, who performed Tuesday night at the Koger Center. (The concert also was supposed to feature Gym Class Heroes Cupid s Chokehold but the band canceled because of illness).
Fiasco s mannerisms reminded me of T.I., until he ran through the crowd of almost 1,000 while rapping like a bandit.
Thankfully, it was just Fiasco, a lone hypeman and a DJ on stage, though guest Gemini, who rapped brilliantly about a $100 bill s life, was a welcome addition.
Reviews from Fiasco s early solo performances weren't so good, as critics cited his lack of vocal energy and nervous stage presence as flaws. He s obviously practiced.
Kick, Push made MTV News; I Gotcha and Daydreamin , which features Jill Scott s soul tuning, had too-brief runs on urban radio. Friendly songs, but nothing like the soundbombing of American Terrorist, The Cool or He Say She Say.
None of the above, however, parallel the masterful and strategic verbiage of Hurt Me Soul, a dissertation of, well, what hurts Fiasco and the world.
I had a ghetto boy bop a Jay-Z boycott / 'Cause he said that he never prayed to God, he prayed to Gotti / I'm thinkin godlee God guard me from the ungodly, Fiasco rifles before admitting he is a fan of Jay-Z s seminal straight-to-video Streets is Watchin .
Mainstream hip-hop is punchline addicted: It takes just one grand couplet or word, in some cases to have a hit song. Fiasco strings together thoughts, ideas and punchlines like Dallas Maverick victories.
So through the Grim Reaper sickle sharpening / Macintosh marketing / Oil field augering / Brazilian adolescent disarmament / Israeli occupation / Islamic martyrdom, precise.
The precision continues, bubbling like fresh Coca-Cola to the surface of a glass. After the last sip I lost my earpiece, I hope y' all hear me you say, ah.
You can t beat the real thing.
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