Rapper
Rick Ross’ street creds are on blast, and Nelson George, (my personal blueprint and a rock-star in this verb game) could not have known when he, Robert Locash and Chris Rock sat
down to pen CB4 exactly how much art
would imitate life. Seems that the internet is abuzz with rumors that Ross
(ne’ William Roberts) was once a corrections officer, took on the name and
swagger of America’s most notorious crack dealer and may have even embellished
his back-story with tales of million-dollar coke sales and buying dope from
Manuel Noriega. All t sell records. Turns out Rapper Ross has never been
arrested for jaywalking. His record is cleaner than mine, and in all likelihood
he’s never been a drug kingpin, but just a loving brother and son with a talent
for writing and an active imagination. But wait: You mean, most rappers are lower-middle-class wanna-bes? WOW.
Color me SHOCKED. Ross fraud is compounded by his record sales, and the way his
fake narrative resonates with his fans—mostly clueless white kids. He gets
points for keeping his nose clean, but a demerit for faking the funk.
CB4, lest you forget the plot of this
cinema classic, was about three guys who break into the rap business by
pretending to be rappers with gangster credentials, and the lead rapper, MC
Gusto (Chris Rock), takes on the name of a well-known drug kingpin, (Charlie
Murphy, in his first substantial film role, as “Gusto”). This film, not at all
dissimilar to 50 Cent’s story,
except that the real 50 Cent
has long since been dead. “Freeway” Rick Ross
is alive and kicking (albeit,
in the joint), with some crank trading on his name.
I’d be lying if I told you that Ross was not a decent
rapper, or that his flavor of Crack Rap was vacant and without merit: it is, as
popped-up, sugar-coated examples of visceral sub-genres of rap music go, musically and lyrically compelling. Cinematic and vibrant. Plus, he get's props for killing a sample from disco gangster Giorgio Moroder. Most rap music
these days is highly-stylized, hyper-violent fiction of what most often is a
caricature of the Black American Dope Dealer. Rapper Rick Ross, at least, is a
good at it.
Well, “Freeway” Ricky
Ross, as fate would have it, tried to warn him
about taking on the name and swagger of a real O.G. He gets out the Booty
Farm in 2010, but I don’t think rapper Ross should be worried: his career doesn’t
have legs like that.
Rapper Ross says he’s
the victim of some kind of elaborate internet hoax. Yeah. Him and R. Kelly.
I could have it wrong, so you tell me: is it more likely
that he’s some fat dude with an active imagination and a golden pen, or that he’s
a former drug dealer rapping about his life of crime?
