As the adage goes: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Because they’re often exploited by labels as expendable, many rappers scrupulously stick to a familiar script. And with Black Market, Ross’s eighth studio album to date, there appears to be a noticeable disconnect between the lavish lifestyle he regularly depicts in his music and the newfangled musings on a rap career that’s nearing a decade.įor years now, major labels have avoided any broached subject concerning rap music, its place in the industry, and a rapper’s career longevity. ![]() Sure, he’ll occasionally try his hand at bridging the gap between street raps and protest chants, but by no means does he do this with an elevated consciousness. Hell naw, he’s still out popping Luc Belaire black bottles and dropping a cool stack on a pair of high-top Louboutins. But don’t think for one second that the Bawse, Rick Ross, is just going to quietly put his M-M-M-Maybach luxury coupe in storage. Even rappers who once sat comfortably atop a throne of big-face hundreds are going through their own hard times, opening escrow accounts in their birth names, scaling down on tired drug kingpin raps, and assuming redemptive street preacher roles to better reflect a marginalized crowd. ![]() A man’s Planned Parenthood attacks threaten poor and working-class families of color, economic inequality in America is severe and growing, and protests rage in the streets over the police shooting of Laquan McDonald. Brothers and sisters, I don’t know what this world is coming to.
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