The BeyHive Needs To Chill

So, let me be honest, son. On the real, I’m legitimately scared right now, man. I mean, no one in their right mind wants to run afoul of the BeyHive, fam. Frankly, I’m more frightened of them than the Bloods and Crips combined, bruh. In any case, the BeyHive really needs to chill, brethren. All in all, they truly have to relax on terrorizing innocent people.

Ok, for those who missed it, Jay-Z and Beyoncé were courtside for Game 4 between the Golden State Warriors and the Toronto Raptors. Moving on, there was a point where Hov was chopping it up with Nicole Curran, the wife of the owner of the Warriors. Now, in terms of positioning, Bey was sitting in between Jay and Curran while this conversation was occurring. Anyway, at some point, Bey’s face got serious, for who knows what reason. All I know is, that’s when shit went haywire, son.

Now, immediately following this incident, the BeyHive went into attack mode. I mean, they found Curran’s Instagram page and hit her with every bee emoji that social media would allow. Like, it got to the point where the woman had to defend herself AND Bey’s publicist had to tell the BeyHive to fall back. All I can say is, what are we doing out here, man? Shit, we have NO idea why Bey made that face. Hell, she could’ve just wanted to watch the game, fam. The fact is, the BeyHive went full Rambo without context, bruh. Real talk, if Bey was getting argumentative with Curran, then I’d probably understand. But damn, at least let the drama pop off before trying to hit this woman with the guillotine, son.

In the end, I’ve probably taken a major chance, man. Ultimately, criticizing the BeyHive is a risky move, fam. By and by, I might’ve put my life in danger, bruh. The truth is, my own wife would willingly sacrifice me to the Beyoncé gods, son. At the end of the day, I don’t want any problems, brethren. Frankly, I’m just trying to let the BeyHive know it’s okay to take their trigger fingers off of the chopper. Listen, they don’t always have to air out the entire room, folks. That is all. LC out.

Beyoncé Didn’t Make Jay-Z

So, I won’t lie, son. I’m well aware of the fact that I need to tread carefully with this post, man. Look, the BeyHive is NOT the entity a sane person should want to fuck with, fam. Shit, just ask Keri Hilson. With that being said, I need to get something off of my chest. Listen, I need people to stop acting like Beyoncé made Jay-Z. Ok, yes, everyone loves Mrs. Knowles-Carter. However; let’s not pretend like Hov isn’t a fucking legend, bruh. I mean, there’s a reason why a lot of people, including myself, consider him the greatest rapper of all time.

Wait, to be clear, I’m not writing this to slight Bey in any shape, form or fashion, man. Fam, the woman is coming off of back-to-back classic albums. I can’t possibly take anything away from her, son. But, this new generation likes to act like Jigga is the slouch in the relationship. Now, for those uninformed people, I’d like to take a brief trip down memory lane.

Ok, while no one knows exactly when Hov and Beyoncé started dating, I think “’03 Bonnie & Clyde” is a good place to start. Now, although my memory sucks, I believe that song came out in 2002. It served as the lead single for Hov’s The Blueprint 2: The Gift & The Curse album. Anyway, if we’re keeping score here, by this time, Jigga had already released three classic albums, son. I mean, Reasonable Doubt, Vol. 2… Hard Knock Life and The Blueprint were already under his belt by the time him and Bey became an item. Shit, Beyoncé hadn’t even released a solo album at that point, man! Good Lord, can we keep it a buck for a second, fam?

Moving on, even before we get to 4:44, Hov managed to add two more classics to his discography: The Black Album and American Gangster. Side note, I’m open to arguing about the classic status of American Gangster, but regardless, it’s a fantastic album. In any case, Jay was still making relevant art independent of his marriage to Bey. All in all, Jay would’ve still been in the history books even if he didn’t marry Beyoncé.

In the end, I need the BeyHive to chill, son. Please, don’t scalp me or give my nuts the “James Bond in Casino Royaletreatment. All I’m saying is, Beyoncé is not responsible for Hov’s success. Now, have they both helped each other’s careers? Absolutely. Is Beyoncé more relevant in music and pop culture right now? Absolutely. However; that doesn’t take away from the groundwork Jay has already laid down, fam. By and by, his position was already solidified, man. Now, let me get back to 4:44. LC out.

An Unabashed Love Letter To Solange

Getting straight to the point, I love Solange Knowles. I’ve actually always loved Solange Knowles. For anyone who thinks I’m lying, just ask my fiancée. I’m sure she’s convinced I’d leave her for either Solange or Tina Knowles. Shit, both women could get it, son. In regards to Mama Knowles, I luh the cougars, bro. In any case, when it comes to music, I’ve actually enjoyed Solange’s records a lot longer than Beyoncé‘s. Side bar, I pray to God the BeyHive doesn’t massacre me for uttering that. With that being said, I do acknowledge that Bey’s last two albums are fucking flawless. But, with the release of A Seat at the Table, Solo has effectively released an album that’s at least on par with her sister’s greatest work.

Now, to be real, I’m not going to write a real review of her new album. At this point, there are too many think pieces about the record to even count. All anyone needs to do is hit up Google and find whatever type of commentary they want. For example, the good folks over at Pitchfork wrote a review that I fuck with. They understand the greatness that is Solo. In any case, I’d much rather talk about the fact that Solange finally made an album that fully encapsulates the personality she’s showcased over the years.

If anyone’s familiar with her interviews or her social media presence, it’s safe to say that Solange doesn’t hold her tongue. She’s not afraid to speak about issues that affect her, her family, women or the Black community. Hell, when it comes to family, even her brother-in-law could get it, son. Jay-Z may be the greatest rapper ever, but he can still catch these hands, bruh. Moving on, with every record she’s released, Solo Star notwithstanding, she’s inched closer to the artistic statement I believe she’s always wanted to make.

From “T.O.N.Y.” on Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams to “Lovers in the Parking Lot” on her True EP, the ingredients that would eventually comprise her new album were already visible. This time around, with the assistance of Raphael Saadiq and an incredible cast of musicians, she’s fully unlocked the code. So, it goes without saying, every song on this album is my fucking jam, son. As of right now, if I had to pick a favorite song, “Don’t Touch My Hair” is the wave, man. Outside of her contributions, special guest Sampha can do no wrong, in my eyes.

All in all, if anyone hasn’t listened to the album yet, stop being a fucktard and do the appropriate thing. Also, as a side note, Solange’s husband better do right by her, son. Otherwise, I’ll be waiting in the cut to pick up the pieces. Hopefully, my lady didn’t read that last sentence. Good day.