Download This Song #1

This song is like a sandwich. A delicious, triple-decker Dagwood sandwich, where Akon is the mustard and Danja is the toothpick. The meat in the middle, here represented by Rick Ross, Fat Joe, and Birdman, may not be entirely healthy for you, but you make sure to order it on whole-grain bread (T.I. and Lil’ Wayne) so you feel like you’re doing your body good. The waiter, whose nametag read “Khaled,” was very vocal about how delicious this sandwich was, and encouraged you to “Listennn” to his other recommendations, too.

You didn’t, but that’s okay.

The first thing you notice is how tasty the mustard is. In the past, mustard has disagreed with your stomach, made you a bit nauseous, and humped young girls onstage. In this sandwich, however, the mustard sings the hook nicely, without intruding. It’s tough to eat this sandwich without singing “Konvict music!” as you bite into it.

Here ends the metaphor, because I can’t talk about Rick Ross if I constantly have to refer to him as “meat.” Rick’s verse is easily the weakest in the song, but he doesn’t make a complete ass of himself. Plus, even if I harbored some secret loathing for him, he redeems himself by saying “Rappers get brain, stupid. I’m silly!” in one of his lines. Because, let’s face it, he IS silly.

I have pretended that Fat Joe is an unperson since I heard “Lean Back.” That song found him sounding out of breath at all times, as if instead of leaning back he was running forward to catch the microphone. In “We Takin’ Over,” his flow is at least competent and, like Ross, he doesn’t sound retarded. However, I found out by looking at some lyrics websites that he says “YSL” instead of “Wide as hell,” the latter of which would have caused immense amounts of props-giving from Swim Through Frequencies.

I don’t really know anything about Birdman except that Lil’ Wayne kissed him and he seems to have shitty taste in rapper aliases. Also, while we were watching this video, Jason said “Fuck Birdman.” I kinda like his verse in this song, though, possibly because it sets Wayne up to eat the other rappers alive. Also, the beat pretty much drops out while Birdman is going, so it gives his words a kind of holiness, which is emphasized by what appears to be a meditation on death, but could just be him bragging about killing somebody.

I’m gonna circle back to T.I. before I try to tackle all the things that are awesome about Lil’ Wayne’s verse. T.I. does something in this song that T.I. does very well, which is compile a list of places where people think T.I. is awesome. There’s nothing really special about this verse, except that T.I. executes it flawlessly as we have all come to expect (and respect). Then he leaves, which is cool. He probably has better things to do.

Speaking of expectations and respect, we arrive at Lil’ Wayne. At this point in the song the production, which has featured an epic, stair-climbing synth and a lot of pounding drums, moves out of the way and lets Wayne spit. Birdman finishes his verse by saying “Been a G in the game, now my son on the throne,” bowing down to Wayne and backing out of the way. Because, in all seriousness, what else is he going to do?

Lil’ Wayne begins his demolition of all that came before him by saying “I am the beast.” Notice he does not say “a” beast. To that end, here is a comprehensive list of beasts Wayne could be comparing himself to:

Beast from X-Men, a.k.a. Hank McCoy

Reasoning: The blue-haired mutant is a doctor, and enjoys using large, confusing words. On the other hand, he is also ferociously strong and will give enemies a beat-down.

“The Beast” roller coaster at Kings Island in Ohio

Reasoning: “The Beast has been constantly rated as one of the top roller coasters in the world since it first opened, having earned itself a cult-like following among some coaster enthusiasts. Even after nearly 30 years, it is still the main attraction at Kings Island, located at the rear of the park in Rivertown.” (Wikipedia.com). Replace the words “roller coasters” with “rappers” and understand that that last sentence is a metaphor for the rap game, and I think the parallels are clear.

The Beast from Beauty and the Beast

Reasoning: Chicks still love him, even though he’s a monster.

The Antichrist (as in: Mark of The Beast)

Reasoning: Shawn Carter calls himself Jay-HOVA, a sneaky reworking of Jehovah, a.k.a. Mr. Jesus Christ. If that is the case, then Wayne could easily be calling himself the Antichrist. He and Jay operate on two completely different levels. Jay is both a businessman and a business, man. He has more money than God, (but not more money than Diddy, apparently,) and his flow is deliberate and methodic, albeit brilliant. Wayne, on the other hand, has authored more mixtapes than albums, and spit half-insane stream-of-consciousness poetry where Jay would pen a sonnet. On top of that, Wayne has already destroyed HOVA over his own beat, (twice if you count Black Republicans,) effectively rendering one of the hip-hop greats irrelevant. A little far-fetched? Maybe.

“Feed me rappers or feed me beats,” is the next thing to come out of Weezy’s mouth. He has already eaten all the rappers on this song, swallowing them whole as he sets out to consume all of hip-hop. As for the beat, he devours it AGAIN on Da Drought 3, laughing, “It’s me! The rapper eater! Feed me, feed me!”

Later, when Wayne says, “I love brain, I need a leech,” I am both mildly grossed-out and utterly fascinated. I don’t know who the first rapper to call fellatio “brain” was, but it still doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s Wayne’s use of the word “leech” here that makes me love him, both demanding a girl to, for lack of a more politically correct way to put this, suck it, and simultaneously calling upon her to perform bloodletting on him, curing him of his diseases. I think that’s the first time in rap that a line has ever been at once ridiculously misogynistic and bizarrely heartfelt.

Other highlights include: “I’m on track like a box of Pumas,” which is both true and awesome, and when he calls himself “The little Big Kahuna.”

By this point, Danja’s production has once again swelled beneath Wayne, who makes it work with him like no one else can. When he’s done, there’s nothing left for anyone to say except for one last nail in the coffin from Akon: “We takin’ over one city at a time.”

Then: Silence.