g-unit track by track

1. eminem meets just blaze's drum set. title track beckoning the coming of the g-unit. a bunch of lines flow over a constant piano hit that changes with the chorus of Marshal girls. AND he says he has mescalin.

2. he starts the chorus with a disorganized flow and pulls it together with the rhythmically and tonally perfect "we be poppin them thangs" OH GOD!@# on his solo shit 50 flows like a visceral headlock consistently. that's what i like and what sets him apart from whoever else is like him (WHO??!)

3. my buddy: me and my girlfriend bite. the female ah voice on your triton is always somewhat corny but here it's well fuckin utilized. pushes the chorus like rock!! wait there are some great lines too: "he don't have a heart/ i just keep feedin'em shells/ he keep it poppin in the hood/ so his name ring bells" the whole verse is just fucking ill (esp before the quote but it was too fast to type) and the closest thing to it might be late big l. but that doesnt even do 50 justice.

5. the first single, "Stunt 101." Produced by Denaun Porter (aka D12's KON ARTIS, who also produced Get Rich or Die Tryin's "P.I.M.P."), in the chorus is a self portrait vivid as fuck and beautifully inflected. over the flows the synth toms ride the organ line AND the flows and push you straight into the chorus. its fucking frostbite. COLD AS ICE!

50 and labron james came out at the same time?!!?

6. THE NEXT SONG STARTS OUT ALL R AND B "I WANNA FUCK YOU." [r kelly remark deleted] a beautiful stab and gentle lick cross over the hooked up chorus into the flow. content is straight. first dude raps about a girl. "hypnotized me with her hips." man, this isn't a good example, but his rhymes are jay-z caliber. labron james is the shit. he's going to start shooting more consistently like. this album is sick. everyones going to look at it like the second fifty cent album or whatever. does anyone ever really expect anything from roca posse cuts?

7. the same organ stab recut opens the next track along with a cutup version of a same-sounding r and b voice. staccato spare flow, some metaphor called groupie love. maybe i should listen to this again. no, this is about groupies it seems like now. yeah the verses are expendable. more g-g-g-g-g-g-unit vocal scratching a la eminem. this organ is sick. a heavy piano circles over the course of a few bars. works, but not as well as the rest.

8. i/know/you/know this beat sounds like d12. worse, obie trice. 30 seconds in disjointed rhymes. the first real verse starts. "anything to reach a buck." i like 50 cent oriented wordplay, especially when it's his posse giving him brain. yeah, the analog synthesizer is misused here, drags the flow down to a plod, and these are some hardcore motherfuckers. there is this recurring atonal string sample or something, under the standard drum and the weird analog. the analog starts with a straight melody then breaks the matrix into an oscillating sickness that knuckefucks whoever tries to rap over it. fresh!

10. THE MARSHAL GIRLS JUST SAID G UNIT. string sample/synth line. constant alternating chord stabs of contrasting weight over the only drumbeat that seems to exist outside of in the club. i cant remember if its "in da club" or "the club." good gun rap.

maybe i'm too old fashioned. i cant spend too much time in mall of america because of the sensory overload. the space is saturated in advertising designed to affect your psychology in specific ways: there is an expensive restaraunt with a balcony overlooking CEREAL LAND by general mills. cereal land is really convincing. it looks like a different land you can see from another in super mario sunshine. this could be the introduction to an inconsequential and stupid liberal argument about society. it isn't. i don't like underground rap based on content, and i don't discard mainstream because it is sound from the future. the g-unit penetrates my psychology and after like 12 tracks i can't concentrate on writing about every track. if i were smoking blunts in a candy coated cadillac with a bunch of watts in the trunk and if i'd done that for a few years and if before that i lived somewhere where the threat of death was somewhat apparent i could easily bump this shit for days and days without something inside me begging for, like (i'm sorry to say it but it seems like the right thing to say, not that i listen to them except that two year period 14-15 before i discovered alcohol JUSTIFIED) modest mouse. or at least some boards of canada or something that suggests the threat of machines in the future, as opposed to one of the kids in my highschool who'd rib the shit out of my chucks during the modestmouse phase.

14. when i listen to tracks like beg for mercy the beat could easily be the sequence of sounds set off by a combo in tekken or something. that's an often persued and rarely aquired trait in rap songs. it impl fuck this

15. g'd up just started. the haunted house atmosphere brought to the hood with a tupac piano riff. then a glam guitar drops two notes and fades out. fuck i wish i had the production credits.

i love hiphop so fucking much for this.