Shout-out To Selena Gomez & Bella Hadid

So, The Weeknd is back, son! Now, when I say he’s “back,” I’m talking about the moody dude who grabbed our attention in the first place. All I know is, every XO fan owes a debt of gratitude to Selena Gomez and Bella Hadid. On the real, I don’t know what happened in their respective relationships, but that guy is singing his ass off right now, man. All in all, the Abel Tesfaye on My Dear Melancholy, is the Abel that I’m a fan of, fam. On the real, he seems to be at his best when there’s pain involved, bruh.

Ok, before I continue, I need to check Selena Gomez for a second. Now, that girl needs to get the fuck outta here with her newfound activism, son. Frankly, I don’t want to hear about her March for Our Lives support when she shitted on the Black Lives Matter movement. Shit, I distinctly remember her saying that “hashtags don’t save lives.” So, now she’s a gun reform ally? Woman, sit the fuckity-fuck down, fam! Listen, hypocrisy doesn’t look good on anybody, man.

Moving on, when it comes to The Weeknd’s surprise EP, he’s out here spilling all of his feelings, bruh. Now, keeping it a buck, I’ve never been familiar with the tabloid fodder about his dealings with Gomez and Hadid. So, I can’t say for sure what lyrics are about who. By and by, I can only guess, son. With that being said, if Gomez is the muse behind “Call Out My Name,” then she deserves a cotdamn Grammy, man! I mean, that song alone is worth the price of admission, fam. In addition, “Wasted Times” and “I Was Never There” are certified jams, folks.

In the end, everyone needs to go check out the new music, son. Side bar, big ups to Frank Dukes, one of my favorite producers, for using his Midas touch, man. All I can say is, the beats are immaculate on this project, fam. Anyway, happy Friday and viva la great music! That is all. LC out.

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Who At H&M Needs To Catch These Hands?

So, I’m just going to get straight to the point, son. Look, if I have to explain to anyone why a Black child wearing a “monkey” hoodie is wrong, then they should stop reading this. I mean, there are multiple levels to why this is fuckery at the highest level, man. In any case, the real issue is, I don’t know who deserves to catch these hands first: H&M or that kid’s parents.

Ok, before I continue talking about the words on the hoodie, let me talk about the hoodie, fam. Now, in the wake of Trayvon Martin, there was a concerted effort to criminalize Black people who wore hoodies. Hell, just ask Hillary Clinton and Geraldo Rivera, bruh. First, Clinton literally said that “the sight of a young Black man in a hoodie still evokes a twinge of fear.” On top of that, Rivera urged Black and Hispanic parents to deter their children from wearing hoodies. According to his logic, the hoodie got Martin killed by George Zimmerman.

Listen, if a hoodie is that detrimental to a Black person’s image, why would H&M dress a young Black boy in one? With that being said, let’s talk about the words ON the hoodie now. “Coolest Monkey In The Jungle?” Really? REALLY?! THAT’S the slogan that H&M thought was appropriate for their ad?! Good fucking Lord, son, I can’t believe the level of stupidity here! Look, like I said before, I shouldn’t even have to explain why comparing Black people to monkeys is a bad look, man. Shit, just look at the history of Western Civilization, fam!

My thing is, who okayed this shit, bruh? Real talk, advertising and marketing are substantial departments, son. Are we saying that NO ONE saw the issue here before this tomfoolery went up? NO ONE understood the possible ramifications of this? Furthermore, where the fuck were this kid’s parents? They were cool with their son modeling this type of nonsense? On the real, ain’t no amount of money worth my child’s self-esteem and respect, man. Keeping it a buck, if this were my kid, someone at H&M would have to catch this rear naked choke, fam.

In the end, everyone needs to be called out for this shit, bruh. Ultimately, this kid is still young and probably doesn’t understand the meaning behind his exploitation. By and by, I’m glad people like The Weeknd are chucking the deuces to stupid ass H&M. Clearly, they don’t give a flying fuck about how they present people from different cultures. All I know is, someone still needs to get this ass-whooping, son. That is all. LC out.

A ‘Not Really A Review’ Review Of The Weeknd’s ‘Starboy’

So, in my eyes, this post is not really a review of The Weeknd‘s new Starboy album. Instead, I simply just want to talk about some of my favorite songs, son. It’s really that simple, man. Now, I’m not a complete Stan for every song on this album, but shiiiiit, there are some JAMS on here, bro! With that being said, let’s go through some of them.

First, I want to break these songs into tiers. For me, there are three tiers: “Fucking Unimpeachable,” “I Rock With These” and “Meh.” I’m only going to talk about the first two tiers, though. There’s really no sense in talking about the songs I’m kind of indifferent about. So, let’s start with “Fucking Unimpeachable,” son. In my eyes, and ears, there are four songs in that tier: “Starboy,” “Party Monster,” “Six Feet Under” and “Die for You.” Add up the Daft Punk 808‘s on “Starboy,” the EVERYTHING on “Party Monster,” the Future harmonies on “Six Feet Under” and the chorus on “Die for You” and we get fucking perfection, man. Literal perfection, bro.

Now, the songs in my “I Rock With These” tier are “Rockin'”, no pun intended, “Sidewalks” and “A Lonely Night.” To me, it’s no coincidence that superproducer Max Martin is responsible for two of these records. Side note, I want everyone to go and Google his name before continuing this post. I mean, that dude has produced damn near EVERY hit song since the late 1990‘s. This includes The Weeknd’s own number-one hit, “Can’t Feel My Face.” The wildest part is, I’m not even slightly exaggerating about this. He’s owned the Billboard Hot 100 for the last twenty years, man. In any case, add up the synth arpeggio/chorus on “Rockin'”, the guitars on “Sidewalks” and the hook on “A Lonely Night” and that satisfies my jam criteria, son.

In the end, that’s just how I feel, man. I fucks with this album, bro. Now, is it like his previous albums? Not really, but who really cares, though? He couldn’t be the dark room and cocaine cowboy forever, son. Let that man cook with his Pop stardom. Good day.