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Hiphop-tråden 2.0 - Les reglene på side en først.

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Lecrae – It is what it is

 

 

 

 

Tekst:

 

[Hook]
I’m hearin’ screams and they sayin’ we sold out
But I’m hearin’ screams from the stands cause we souled out, it’s so loud
I got one life so I spend time tryna live 'til the next one
If you don’t like it, cool
It is what it is, it is what it is
It is what it is, it is what it is
My plate too full to sample that dish
It is what it is, it is what it is
I’m handlin' biz, it is what it is
It is what it is, it is what it is

[Verse 1]
Some like, “I ain’t really feelin' that bruh
I ain’t with religious rap, bruh”
Some sayin' it is devil rap
Illuminati-on-another-level rap
Fell flat from heaven went to hell and back, huh?
A lot of radio ain’t givin' no play, but it’s ok
Cause my day one's been A-1
Before the co-signs and the pros came
Where you been, been boy, boy?
You ain’t been keepin' up
Church Clothes 1 and 2, then Anomaly
You probably need to turn your speakers up
And now I’m on my third tape
And I just might drop it on a Thursday
So tell the industry and my enemy
That your man wouldn’t follow in they rules in the first place
Thirty plus in the residential
In the truck feelin’ presidential
With my girl lookin’ detrimental
Killin' anything tryna to be a side piece out my mental
Outta your mind
You thinkin’ I’m leavin’ my baby by marchin’ for dimes?
You'll get that curve, you way out of line
Gave her that rock, I’m stayin’ with mine
I keep the huddle mad tight, too many players I don’t trust now
You wasn’t with me on the 4th down, huh?
Then you can miss me when I touchdown
And that’s no shade, no shade
It’s just those games, I don’t play
I’m gettin’ wiser with more age
And realizin’ some gonna hate
And that’s ok

 

[Hook]
I’m hearin’ screams and they sayin’ we sold out
But I’m hearin’ screams from the stands cause we souled out, it’s so loud
I got one life so I spend time tryna live 'til the next one
If you don’t like it, cool
It is what it is, it is what it is
It is what it is, it is what it is
My plate too full to sample that dish
It is what it is, it is what it is
I’m handlin' biz, it is what it is
It is what it is, it is what it is

[Verse 2]
Hold up
Let me get a minute from the flexin’
Foreign cars and the million dollar jets
Futuristic clothes, feelin’ like a Jetson
Cause keep it trill, it ain’t really that impressive
Blessed, but I ain’t frontin’ with the Grammys or the fame
I’m just stuntin’ with my family unashamed
And cats say, Crae, you done got it all
In the gym workin' hard, you should show it off!
Nah, that ain’t never been my forte
Pride come before the fall, what the Word say
And I’ve been eatin’ off the wordplay
Working hard on the lyrics that the world play
Remember where I came from in the first place
It’s all a gift, every breath is a birthday
So I spend time tryna find all of these souls lost
Cause it’s a wasted time if I got it all and they souls lost
I ain’t tryna to ball
If that’s what you feel then your goals off
It’s a different game tryna get this truth
Put you on and then go off
So, yeah, I may swag at award shows
Get some jet lag from a tour show
Keep a couple abs on my torso
But none of that is gon' matter when the horn blow
I ain’t tryna front for them flashin’ lights
Man they had us, life is a gift
So if last night was my last night, them I’m good
It is what it is

[Hook]
I’m hearin’ screams and they sayin’ we sold out
But I’m hearin’ screams from the stands cause we souled out, it’s so loud
I got one life so I spend time tryna live 'til the next one
If you don’t like it, cool
It is what it is, it is what it is
It is what it is, it is what it is
My plate too full to sample that dish
It is what it is, it is what it is
I’m handlin' biz, it is what it is
It is what it is, it is what it is

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_cSsVgQpF4

Game - 400 Bars

It's been a long time, get re-acquainted with the world famous

You know how on point my aim is
Long range sniper's, clash of the titan's, chrome pipen'
In this 300 like Leonidas
Snub in the bubblegoose, riding down the interstate
Where fiends put them needles in they arm and let 'em penetrate
Leanin' sideways with my fitted straight
The 27's on point, the paint job a New York minute late
Check my Audemar, no cloud's in my stones
Project's ringin', standin' by the corner store
Two Glocks on me, BANG BANG if you wanna war
That was '05, now we ballin' on this tour
Screamin' out "Thug Life", pourin' Belve on ya whore
Money I'm involved with it, wake up and ball with it
Kobe/Gasol with it, uncut raw with it
Chop bricks take trips ot
Before I had a goatee, I used to bag the Oz
(Yeah, fish-scale nigga, What up Ghost!?)
Then stash 'em by the oak tree, move it by the coke leaf
Drama let the llama Knick niggas like Charles Oakley
Nigga don't insult me, I banana boat B.R.C.K.S.'s
And stuff 'em in the Lexus
I'm sitting fat like Precious, Christ up on the necklace
And I keep them clips on a dresser
Yes sir, I'm bout to ball, Louis bag the fuckin' mall
Bitches, money and fast cars, nigga I want it all
(Yeah, word to my kids nigga, I want it all)
Nascar Game, why the fuck would I stall!?
I'm the franchise nigga, Chris fucking Paul!
Empty out the cannon hit ya bitch, you the truck and all
Withdrawal 200 thousand, and then FUCK it off!
King of the hill, gotta dime bitch cuttin' raw
She bagged the last nick', I unzip, she suck it soft
Black Superman, yeah, I'm above the law
I put this hollowtip a quarter inch above ya jaw
Eat out a FUCKIN' straw!
Blindfold your bitch toss her in the trunk
After the first 48 that bitch smellin' like a skunk
It's a wrap, I rap, when I wrap the punk
Throw me in the gang module and tell 'em wrap the bunks
The breakfast club nigga, no Captain Crunch
This for my dog nigga's that eat cat's for lunch
I'm hungry like I ain't trapped in month's
So nigga act and stunt, my Glock pack a punch
Or I can Heckler-Koch, and seal your pine box
Leave your head wrapped for months, while I pass the blunt
To my niggas, we all Roc'd out, what's up Jigga?
Sometimes I be in BK, with Fab' on the freeway
Lincoln Continental and I copped it off a eBay
I pop cham. like it's my b-day, horse power
Under my hood like it's an olympic relay
My flow right on time, no delay
I raise a million dollars, send it off to Chile
(Word to my red cross, I don't fuck with the Red Cross)
I'm All-Madden nigga, EA, I'm in VA
Money talks with Dre and Pharrell on 3-Way
Them 28's, that's my DJ, they spinning shit
When I took trips OT, I never rented shit
I just drop then cop, and then I tinted shit
Diddy and Mike Epps, I'm All About The Benjamins
In it for the benefits, I'll be down in Ten to 6
Tell 'em get me a Porterhouse and some eggs-Benedict
Damn that was good, but I'm still hungry
And I'm living it, I be out in Venice, shit
They say Weezy-Jordan, nigga I'm on my Pippen shit
They say Drake-Lebron, I'm on my Moe Williams shit
If T.I.P. is Kobe then fuck it, I'm Derek Fisher, shit!
Long as I'm in the starting five, I'm a get it in
Cause I promised the city of Compton, I would get it in!
I was OutKast'd... Andre Benjamin
Now I slide through with my Dominican woman friend
(She like puttin' No Ceilings in, yeah)
Giuseppe Heels, expensive wines, Perri seal
It ain't tricking, I just spend money on cheap thrills
Big Phantom's, sweet wheels
Back seat like a club, make them bitches eat pills
Take Patrone shots to the purse with chrome Glocks
Jay Electronica, this a dome shot
So I had to steal it, nigga I had the kill it!
I was the turtle in the race, I made the rabbit feel it!
(Yeah, keep runnin' nigga)
Housing by the subway, feel it through the projects
Come through the Murcialago, a foreign object
Number one prospect, the day that I was drafted
Aftermath-matic unleashed a fuckin' bastard!
Don't respect none of you niggas, get in the casket!
Talking ratchets, never touched a fuckin' automatic
Drama this is tragic, put it in the plastic
88 bars and runnin', throw it with my other classics
(Drama you should've warned these niggas, I'm bout to kill 'em)
Yeah, trash bag it, this is crack
And I know you been fiendin' for this, come get your packs
I do it for the music nigga, fuck the Plaques
Ain't on no beef shit, but it's still FUCK the rats!
And when I'm in New York, I set a bunch of traps
Put the cheese where they can see it, and if you stunt, you clapped
Catch 'em in the club, that's when I stomp 'em flat
Nigga get up after that, go get a fucking bat
(I tell you bout these fucking rats!)
They either snitch or bend over to catch
No matter how you look at it, I hate fucking rats!
Get my bottle of Ciroc and I twist the cap
Sit back watch the NBA play-offs and roll a bat
Yeah, real fat, yeah, all I do is stack bread
In the hood on the wall like a fucking Phathead
Two nines on your back, Warren Sapp, yeah!
This my block and you niggas can't trap here
Unless you wanna get clapped here, head wrapped, yeah
I'm killing niggas, I should have a hundred tat tears
Celebrate your death, toast bottles and clap beers
It's gon' be a cold summer, come through like burr!
The red Phantom bullshittin, the 25, Steve Kerr
The beat insane, Just Blaze in this mothafucka
The cars outside, the 'K is in this mothafucka
I should let off a couple strays in this mothafucka
Fuck that, I'm tryna get laid in this mothafucka
(Yo, tell your friends to get with my friends... Yeah)
Meet me in the parking lot, license plate Aftermath
Screamin' out "Fuck 50", wouldn't snitch for half his cash
If he wasn't such a bitch, nobody would've had to blast
They stood us down in Jacksonville, don't make me have to wrap ya Jag'
Cause I rather be in Saint Tropez, unpackin bags
With bitches that speak French, how you say: "catch a cab"
I don't trip Euros, I don't trip Pounds
I bowlin' ball bitches, till I knock 'em all down
(Like the '93 Pac, I Get Around)
Duffles by the staircase, crack by the backdoor
Navigate my way through the South, I used to trap ho
All the way through Queensbidge moving packs yo
Might've lost a couple friends, but I got my gat though
Blast fo', my Rap foes could never stop my cash flow
Had a Nike box of hundreds, when I was in that RAV4
But now I pull up in that truck with the crash board
With the mag low, give you everythin you ask for
Sometimes, I can be a fucking asshole
In the bank with my mask on, look at this nigga A-R
Don't take your fucking mask off, bitch empty out the cash drawer
We on a suicide mission, but we don't give fuck
Cause if we make it out, bigger house bigger truck
I'm in a strip club with a Glock, nigga what!?
Gimme your bitch, she got a cuter face and bigger butt
I ain't gon' do shit but pour champagne on her
Hit it from the back and watch half of the Laker game on her
(Don't put that back on, too many cum stains on it)
Run a train on her, call Cartoon
Have 'em tattoo my name on her, Star Trak too
You know what? Fuck it, Aftermath too
Put a little smoke around it then take it home and pound it
Helicopter outside, nigga I'm surrounded
Had a spot in the Jungles till the fuckin Fed's found it
Momma, your son got a public announcement
I got 5 million in the walls and the couches
(Don't even think about it... We got cameras, dogs and guns)
Ask Pe-Pe, he was there, he can vouch it
Throw it in the trashcan on some Oscar The Grouch shit
A bunch of green popped out, time to re-route shit
Settle down in Mississippi, gotta down South click
And my niggas like, "we ain't know all about this"
And any nigga ever snitch, got his fuckin' mouth fixed
You get 25, he get his fuckin' throat slit
Cut 'em like Filet Mignon and throw em off a boat, bitch!
Feed 'em to the sharks then dock the yacht
Oil in the water, damn the ocean so thick
Time to finish off his niggas on some trench coat shit
It's a drug war, real life, Grand Theft
Catch you in the streets fuck you up and hit ya man next
Come through on some retarded shit, just sprayin' techs
Where my dogs at? tell 'em I'm crazier then DMX
Lazier then Chinese eyes, when I'm puffin that
Blueberry, I ain't talking where the muffins' at
(Roll up the sour diesel if you want nigga)
I split open the dutch, then I'm stuffin' that
You should get a flight to California, come fuck with that
That's all you, go ahead, hop in the truck with that
Take it down in Cashville and hit Young Buck with that
Don't bring nothin' back, Border Patrol cuffin that
I ain't trying see the pen, and have to get my knuckles wrapped
I wake up real early, keep lunchin fags
This shit easy, you Rap niggas my punchin bags
(I got some combinations nigga, Pacquio shit)
Talkin 'bout you poppin tags, talkin 'bout u poppin Cris'
Where u get it poppin at? Nigga u ain't poppin shit
But a X pill, as I turn the Lex' wheels
I got a mean Phantom, very upset grill
Tell'em why you mad son, that nigga pulled a fast one
You know who you are, when I see you that's ya ass son
But I'm in the club, throwin' shots like my last gun
It's 2o'clock, YURR, gotta make a cash run
(Yo, go get the truck from around the corner, tell Wack I'll meet 'em outside)
Into the 7-11 bout to blast one
This nigga A-R will not keep his fuckin' mask on
Deal with it when we get to the crib
You niggas is wildin'! Wait till we get to the crib
And split this fuckin' money up
Hit the block and dummy up
Shave the onion, slice it down the middle, that's a tummy tuck
That's how we do it in Compton, FUCK the Police!
Defend my hood like an NHL goalie
(Sometimes it's cold on these mothafuckin' streets nigga)
Iced out Rollie
And I still remember everythin' that Dre told me
Red Polo fleece, sippin on that O.E
Never been to jail cause I never had a cold D
Do it just like the O.G.'s
Cut the Impala in half, insert the gold D's
Then bounce this mothafucka till it got a slow leak
Flatbed pick it up and you know me
I'm goin with the car, all night, no sleep
(Gotta get this mothafucker back on the strip)
Next day we in the red Phantom, 4 deep
Kids runnin up to the car, block off the whole street
It's the ice cream man like the OP
Cali like the Lion's o-line, it's where the holes(hoes) be
BC runnin shit like a nose bleed
Don't get it confused or screwed like Codine
More swag then the niggas from the show-me
That's ya bitch I'm bout to Mac her like Goldie
(Shit, together we can rule the world baby)
Blacked out Cartier, Four Season's caviar
Spray a lil Diddy on it, that'll get their panties off
Nigga see me in the lobby lookin like "damn he soft"
Catch me outside where I can let this cannon off
Soo to the Woo, bet I let this cannon off
And put everything in the clip right where u standin, dog
Ride off in a Mazi' like can I ball?
For the bucks, I'm tryna get it like Brandon dog
(Young Money clearly NBA rookie of the year)
I'm still standin tall wish the Twin Towers was
Take innocent lives, that's the type of shit a coward does
I'm just reminiscin', smokin' on the sour, blood
Take a couple more hits and pass the shit around the bus
U can't tell me shit I done seen a thousand drugs
Hundred rounds in ten drums, that's a thousand slugs
One day I flipped the kitchen table, found a bug
Kept lookin', found another one, right around the subs
(Ayyo, Fed's can u hear me? God damn)
I was takin a shit, then I seen one by the tub
Feedin' my fish, there's a wire right by the rug
Dumb mothafuckers this is not where they buy the drugs
That's Salami in the kitchen that we fryin up
The world full of bitches, all the niggas dyin' up
They strechin' niggas out for crack, all the fiends tryin dust
We got some mean smokers for the sack they tie u up
Quarter sack and get the pound, brick burn the house down
(The connect ain't gon' think that shit is funny)
The fuck these niggas laughin at? Run up, u got some cash in that?
Knock on ya momma's door, ya head sittin' in a bassinette
While I'm on a G4, smokin' up half the jet
All season in New York, smokin' up half the Jets
246 bars ain't broke half a sweat
Just got half a mil', gave the hood half the check
And I done shot it out with probly over half the 'jects
Sometimes just for the love, the other half, respect
(That's that HOOD shit, I'm livin' GOOD bitch!)
Out of my mind like breakin' off half an X
Movin through Hollywood faster than a bag a Meth
Yup, nigga's better watch they step
'Less they in a fraternity, but that ain't concernin' me
Let's get back on this ape shit, back to the basics
Cold words, flip birds in the kitchen with cake mix
Yeah, Betty Crocker that, then hit the block with that
Cut off khakis, house shoes and a stockin' cap
(Hit the Swapmeet... Get me some white T's, red-tip socks)
My flow a 38. don't make me have to cock it back
Shoot it like Olajuwon and bring the old Rocket's back
Two holes in ya face where ya sockets at
Bring the whole hood out and show 'em how to drop a rat
They got them brand new Porsche's out, I'm coppin that
V12 under the hood, ain't no stock in that
Panoramic sunroof, me and this chick watchin glass
My hood is like cameras in the bumper, watch ya ass
(Get ya ass smoked around these parts, youngin')
What the fuck u thought? Ride up bangin Too Short
Smoke u like a Newport, nigga this ain't New York
I be in the jungle with lions or in the zoo lost
Or with my wolves that's dyin' to get they tools off
City Of Angels, be careful who you cross
Niggas'll run in Mr.Chow's and take them fuckin' jewels off
Rappin' all that goon shit, we all know that u soft
A baby's ass in the Martha Stewart face cloth
(Or a box of cotton, stay pushed 'til your rotten)
So, nigga you stay on your Rap shit, while I stay on my trap shit
My, bust a gat shit, Busta hit me like: "u wrote 400 that quick? "
Naw, 282 and that's just cause the track sick
120 more, welcome to the liquor store
Same one that frog sent me, lil' nigga get the raw
And I did it, Cedar Block, I'm with it
Who you think got all these niggas in them Cincinnati fitted's?
(Yeah, took America and Ken Griffey'd that)
7-5-8's, throw on my crown, throw on my khakis
Then brush the Nike's down
Jump in the 'Lac and push to Nike town
Where Them Space Jam's? I need 'em right NOW!
Jordan sweatsuit on, OH Let's Do It!
Go Wocka Flocka on them nigga's in these new kicks
You know how that go, new kick's, new whip
Blue 6, loc'in on the set like a new Crip
(That line was so crazy I had to say that shit, Blood)
Interior coke white, smooth like Cool Whip
Sold the shit to Rick Ross, 80 thou', a cool flip
Then I got that vibrant thing, my lil' Q-tip
That Maserati a problem, especially with the dual shift
0 to 60, and WHOO! It's like a mule kick
I swear to God like the preacher in the pool pit
Speakin of pools, mine heated, come through bitch
Long as it's La Perla, I don't care who you come through with
(Canadian, Spanish, French, nigga whatever!)
Minage in the deep end, head on the back end
I wanna fuck the Asian bitch, next time leave your fat friend
Why the fuck y'all in the Honda all packed in?
Headed to Inglewood, say wassup to Mack 10
Say wassup to Glock 9, I'm back on you nigga's heads
L.A. would be a ghost-town if I wanted nigga's dead
Run with my Goon Squad cause more than half you nigga's Fed's
It's either that, you ATF or one of 50's friend's
(I see the wires hangin' out you nigga's Levi's)
Well fuck it though cause the nigga did let me in
But he ain't wanna see the Game in HD on ESPN
I think the boy's John-in', we was the best of friends
Then shit flipped, went to his holmes like I was Mexican
We all know the rest, put the burner to his chest
Hit him with "300 Bars" and let the streets do the rest
Yes! Terror is over you can eat now, Jayceon(Jason) killed Freddy
The WHOLE world can SLEEP now!
(Dream-snatcher, that's ME now)
Take your money lay yo' bitch ass on the beach now
I can see it, a G-Unit beach towel
Another man on it, ya'll 'bout to tan on it?
Send some lil' goons by to kick some fuckin' sand on it
We ain't watchin', go 'head nigga, jam on it
Damn homie in high school you was the man homie
You was lucky in Manhattan, the clip jammed
But come to Cali you a moose in some quicksand
(Sink nigga, like a fuckin' boat with bullet-holes in it)
Buttersoft Banks, you a bitch man
Me and you was cool 'til 50 unscrewed your kickstand
And Yayo, turn in your senior citizen wristband
Slap the shit out you for @LilHenchman
And just like the old days, I play the bench man
Dre play the big hand, I'm cool with the 6th man
Never selfish nigga, I'm eatin shellfish nigga
My legacy will never die, the black Elvis nigga
(Come check me out in Graceland nigga, pull the guitar out and e'rrything)
Glock by my pelvis, clip by the waistline
On the block like Chris Bosh, shoot it from the baseline
We at the 350 mark, it's break time
(Ayyo, go get the L out the car man...
Naw, this Purple Haze nigga, I'm 'bout to roll this shit up
Get high nigga, finish this mothafuckin' "400 Barz"
Naw, my key's right there... By that, by that, Cocunut Ciroc... Yeah, Let's Go
Yo, and tell The Runners I'm hungry man
Get me some Frech Toast, Bacon and shit)
Run up on you with 50 bean's and 50 chef's
Niggas thinkin' it's a game, tryna push "select"
Call a time out, like I'm OUT!
All these soft ass Rappers fakin' the crime route
Niggas got real quiet now that Shyne out
Don't make me smuggle 'em outta Belize and pull them 9's out
Niggas scared now, my Goon Squad here now
We turnin' on the headlights and runnin over deer's now
(Yeah... All up in the wood's, what's good!?)
And I'm the only one you Rap niggas should fear now
You see a G-Unit poster, you better tear it down
I'm talkin' to you mothafucker, so turn around
The beef forever lives, never ever put ya burner down
I beat the shit out these niggas, they Tina Turner now
Stripped of their manhood, ass naked like they Shermin' out
While I peel the top on the block and just burn it out
Hit the strip club with my niggas and just turn it OUT!
(Ayyo, that's Jeezy mothafuckin' Lambo'? Shit cold nigga)
They got free hot wings, they bringin full serving's out
It's all good, we straight, time to perm' it out
Katt Williams, run up in ya house, tie you up
And make you watch while we run through your spouse
Rip off her fuckin' blouse! Tiger Woods been in this?
No thank you, pass that bitch to Menace
Get what I came for, stuff it inside the Range doors
380 bars and get ready for the main course
(Yo, gimme a couple of them napkins, a salad fork... I'm starvin' nigga!)
June 15th, one of us gotta change course
But not the one that spit 400, blunt'd and ain't hoarse
8 plaques on the wall, hang yours
Before you get one, I'll probly have 8 more
It never been about the money with me
Just been about tryna get my nigga somethin' to eat
Take 'em on a couple of tours, get 'em somethin' to beat
Never satisfied, that's why we keep the gun's on his feet
(Yeah... All I know is block's, Glock's and Ciroc... Let's Get It!)
Who got a blunt I can chief? Nigga's runnin around like Indians
But near not one of'em chief
Killa California, I'm just one of the beasts
Take a fuckin' blood bath and bathe myself with the beef(UHH!)
It's the home stretch but I ain't even home yet
Only thing can stop me, is ME, I'm my own threat
Eatin' Lobster's, writin' Al Capone checks
I still ain't on the level of N.O.R.E. or Capone yet
(Nigga's gon' learn, respect the veteran's... Nigga, apologize to Cube)
But after this year, and after this here
Niggas won't see the throne for another 6 years
P.S. mothafucker, ain't no bitch here!
I'm goin' out the same way I came in, 5th gear
I see the finish line, SHIT YEAH!
(It's time to celebrate, Kanary bring that Cris' here
Sticks tell Crack bring the car around the back)
400 and 6 bars... BITCH, it's a WRAP!

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Nujabes - Aruarian dance

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9hwjQBQFIo

 

Savner enda denne karen.

 

Interessant historie bak låta:

Aruarian Dance is one of the most well known Nujabes tunes, but the inspiration for it's haunting melody stretches back over a century. We start in France in 1899.


Under the instruction of Gabriel Fauré, impressionist composer Maurice Ravel (who is still a student at the time) writes Pavane for a Dead Princess. The bit of melody first appears at 0:40, but I recommend giving the whole piece a listen. In this early version we can already hear the longing in the melody, and the incredible beauty that future versions would try to emulate.

Nearly 40 years later, a pop song using fragments of melody from Pavane is written by Peter DeRose and Bert Shefter, with lyrics by Mitchell Parish. It's name: The Lamp is Low, made famous by Mildred Baily. It garnered quite a bit of attention in 1939, prompting several other big bands of the era to record their own covers. As a side note, the tiny wikipedia page for this song is the only thing connecting Aruarian Dance to it's original source material. For confirmation that this song was directly inspired by Pavane, the clarinet solo at 1:44 is a direct quote of the main melody.

Finally now we get to 1969, a full 70 years after Pavane was conceived. Brazilian guitarist Laurindo Almeida records his cover of the 1939 Mildred Baily hit, and we now finally have the recording that Nujabes would sample. The Almeida cover is a distinctly Brazilian cover, incorporating several elements of Samba and Bossa Nova, which were two fast growing styles in the US at the time. This version also harkens back to the original with it's soaring countermelodies and lush orchestration. It stands on its own as a beautiful piece.

Finally, 105 years after Maurice Ravel wrote Pavane for a Dead Princess in the Conservatoire de Paris, Nujabes samples Laurindo Almeida's cover of a Mildred Baily tune to create Aruarian Dance.

I'll be honest, I was not expecting the origin of this song to be so complicated. It links some of my favorite artists and genres across more than a century, and really shows how music is a collaborative process. No one person can claim credit for this piece. It took four versions and at least 6 different writers before we could have what is definitively a Nujabes tune.
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Torbjørn.

Torbjørn.

Skrevet
Skrevet

En litt glemt Wu-låt som fortjener mye mer oppmerksomhet:

 

7th Chamber (part 2)

 

 

Høydepunkter: RZA sin filthy produksjon, med en herlig brumlebass som grunnbeat, og med lyder som vrenger "i alle retninger" men som kommer sammen i en magisk symfoni. Alle versene og flowene som sier ikke kan si "NY 1993" mer tydelig. 0:45 til 1:05 da Raekwon kommer inn og beaten dropper.

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