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Do we simply accept the stat quo? Or do we express ourselves in whichever manner we feel most liberating, even if that means destroying a legacy?

Written by a dude for poop and squiggles.


Warrup warrup! I bring ye the gift of motivation. I bring you the gift of inspiration.


 Get up. Get out and do something.


Nay my peoples, I am not talking about Macy Gray. Entering the arena, we have Big K.R.I.T. The number that we have in mind is “Boobie Miles”. I kid you not.

So, I don’t think this dude is the dopest emcee out there, but I like the message of this particular track: never give up. It’s friggin dope. The visuals reinforce this considerably.


 The only di[fference] between a winner and a loser is that a winner plays until he wins.


That’s the message and the money today. See your ish through to the end. The production is superb. That saxophone threatens to steal the show though. A buddy of mine, Complex Individual, loves the chilled stuff, and he would agree undoubtedly. The visuals are also crisp. Homie has extended the message to the visuals too. All of the imagery seems to reflect this determination or add to the integrity of the track. Stay in your lane. Stay focus. You need that “Eye of the tiger”, man. A sprinter only looks at the finish line.


Eye of the Tiger


Loving his “champion” tee though. The other notable would be:


If it do[es]n’t touch my Soul, I can’t listen to it.

I need to start printing my own tees. Without further ado:




Written by a dude for poop and squiggles.

If you thought Hip Hop was sleeping, you must have been sleeping. Awake from your slumber now. I say this in the hopes that it would happen in the rudest and crudest sense. Check out his dope free E.P. entitled, Art of Raw. If you’re tired of hearing the same ol’ same ol’, then you’ve been dealt a proper blow.

Click on image to preview album (external link).

“Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.

Thy freedom come.

Thy will be done in South Africa, as it is in Lusaka.

Give those weapons, our daily millitary training.

And forgive the South Africans, our leaders.

And lead us not to Apartheid.

For thy is the kingdom, the power and the victory.

For whatever, be what never.

Aluta continua.


~ Kaapse Woordenaar ~ Art of Raw

This is on the intro to the E.P. It’s a looped sample. I’m not sure where it comes from, or if they called the guy in to spew it on the mic, but it gets looped about 5 times over some ill production. It sets the tone for the rest of the collection, which is a militaristic political approach to governance in South Africa.

Though I don’t want to do an album review or anything, there is one notable mention that I’d like to proffer. I said in an earlier post that your past is your present and your past is your future (Street Fighters on the Up ‘N Up). Well, this track, Voyage, literally brings that notion to life. There are great mentions, recounts and an apparent presence of an awakening of consciousness. Not only does this voyage take us to the socio-politico-economic backdrop from which the Art of Raw, emerges, it also takes to those whose memories must never die.

“A lyricist with mass appeal, inspired by Ashley Kriel.”

“Anton Fransch, another fallen comrade”

“This Song is also dedicated to the fallen Hector Pieterson, Harry Gwala, Colleen Williams, Matthew Goniwe…”

Check out the rest of the E.P. for yourself. Experience its entirety.

The E.P. is recorded mostly in Afrikaans, so if you don’t speak the language, you’re probably going to have to listen to the dope beats and rhythmic flows. There’s plenty of English, so don’t be dismayed by the first half of the E.P. I think Saturn (link below) is even involved in this one, though I ‘m not sure which tracks. Some beats are obvious bangers, others are rehashes of a dopeness laced eons before.

Click on the image to listen to some of Saturn’s stuff (external link).

The rawness is there. The message is there. The delivery is there. Think of this release as a breath of fresh air. It just goes to show, that soul will never die. And by “soul” I mean integrity. There’s plenty of soul in this mix.


Written by a dude for poop and squiggles.

I ain’t your daddy, but where I lay my hat, I sleep. It’s about time that I lay my hat somewhere else. The time has come. As my tenure in this place on this planet draws to a close, I find myself becoming quite excitable, anxious and freer.

It’s like my heart dares the unknown to taunt it with voyeuristic tendencies. It whispers lewd nothings that stimulate me to euphoric heights. Every now and then, I come down and while I’m sliding down that frictionless slope, I get to thinking.

I think about a great many things, ~ what I want to be when I grow up ~ what I’d like to do on the other side ~ What I don’t want to be ~ what choices I’d make, given I’d have had them to make ~ the list goes on. On this particular day, I was struck by the things that I would miss about this place and the things that I would not.

Somehow this all seemed like a concept in progress for the blogosphere. Hell, I am a lazy dreamer. It is now the basis and concept behind this particular post. He we go:

I will miss the brats, not the ones that cry when they see my face. I will miss the brats at my school, especially their squeaky voices. I will miss their big heads and tiny bodies, waha. I will miss that old aunty from the kitchen who always smirks when she talks to me in the kitchen. I never know what to do, so I pretend not to understand.

I will not miss the dude that lives upstairs, nor his three reining terrors, nor his wife who turnings into a wailing banshee when their love is manifested. What a flower. I will not miss the regular thumping that accelerates and decelerates as they guide themselves to pleasurable heights. I will miss this view. It’s beautiful. I get to see all of the rice paddies, the town and ummm them a bit of the mountain. I will miss these sliding doors and windows. I will miss the smell of organic fertilizer in summer.

I will miss the bus rides in the morning, evening and weekends. I will miss being largely alone on these trips, but they give me such pleasure. I will miss the serenity of the countryside. I will not miss how far out there this place is (“somebody give me a sign!”).

I will miss the new faces, mostly. I will not miss the disrespectful, ignorant ones. I will miss how we came together with such randomness. I will not miss getting hit on every other day I went into the city. I will miss having an excuse to keep my hair covered most of the time. I will miss the cheap love motels and even cheaper guest houses.

I will not miss the light of love, for that is with me every day. I will not miss the fact that I have touched many and vice versa, for they and I have grown for the better. I will miss a great many things, but what I will not miss is not what I will miss.


Written by a dude for poop and squiggles.

Good looking Buchu! This is dope man. I find that many classic musicians don’t respect the new age, but I doubt any of them could do this. It’s like when Quincy Jones claimed that Kanye couldn’t do anything that Quincy could. Kanye never responded, but his fans reacted on his behalf claiming that Quincy couldn’t do what kanye could either.

Written by a dude for poop and squiggles.


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I am travelling to step

because the slow boat

smokes in slow motion.

I long for the scent of home

dissolved in the void consuming this ocean.

I fear no spear even the void that sears,

but to be cut by my own tears

as they gush to satiate my burning vessel.

nay, I shall lay waste to the weakness of mine temple.

may the embers reduce this boat to a raft

and the raft to a crisp skeleton.

may that crisp skeleton bring me home.

This travelling man that I am,

I am coming home.

I am



Written by a dude for poop and squiggles.

© All rights reserved

~ whether it’s to gauge how far we have ascended or merely stand in awe, it seems as though we readily fix our gazes on all but where we want to be.

Don’t be a slacker


Written by a dude for poop and squiggles.

Zef to death,

 or death to Zef?

That ninja chap. I don’t know man. Actually, I do, but I’d like to reserve my judgement for the time being. Let me not spill my guts. You are all about to journey on an enlightening path. Do step with me for a bit.

You know that Enter the Ninja track blew my mind. I had just got going with the semi electronic vibes and boom, we had it. Steady production and a super dope video to match. On we go.

The Zef is official, man. Homie tapped into a market. Waddy created a nice little market space for himself. He used the DA approach in the Western Cape. Use the race factor, then once you’ve garnered enough support and momentum, stick a big stick up the people’s bum. More on this later.

I do believe there was conflict about the crediting of the video. Ninja woefulyl accepted all the credits, but refused to acknowledge, the funds and creative talent invested from elsewhere into the vid. Exactly who the parasite is, has yet to be determined. I think you can figure that out for yourselves.

Anyways. Who is this caucasian guy rapping in an Afrikaans style that is quite similar to Cape Flats hip hop? This English speaking guy claims to have grown up “zef”. That’s his story, but do take it with a pinch of salt. The boy needed some many-phat-raps credibility, so he headed off to Mitchell’s Plain to get a brown stamp of approval. Isaac Mutant is the man, ek se. Homie is a critical minded individual. However, I don’t know what possessed him and his posse to appear alongside The Answer. Now our Ninja is legit ek, se.

The Zef is official now. Homie  is signing million dollar deals with Jimmy Iovine. That’s big, man. Props.

Let’s get back to the matter at hand. Now that he’s played the race card, he needs to ante it up because well, it’s zef to death. And we all know that zef is dying. Homie jumps on the mic and starts saying the not so cool N-word and F-word on the same song. Cummon Waddy! The desperation is seeping out of your pores. What’s he gonna do next?

Let’s check out homie on the new album and he’s suddenly “actually black”. Not only that, but he goes so far to say that he’s the “white [K-word]”. Is this dude actually for real? It’s therefore no surprise that Interscope wanted to get more involved. Cut a long story short, Interscope is no longer zef.

I used to dig this crew. I must have been high ~ not that I ever do get high ~ anymore ~ whatever.

So what happens when the wash off tattoos won’t wash off and the music doesn’t sell? I’m sure the Zef will find some other way to get that moola. We’ll see how the indie world treats them.

Canibus spoke of the hypenitis:

Ninja got it bad. Anyways. It seems racism is very much ripe. Ninja’s “rainbow nation” where everyone freely uses the N-word and F-word seems quite a stretch away. What surprises me is that Die antwoord have been able to cultivate a space that allows them to become racially and homophobically  provocative with little or no reproach. The logic of the scenario here is that once one has established a relationship of sorts with an individual of a particular group, then one is able to pass on all sorts of derogatory statements under the guise of pleasantries. Familiarity breeds impunity, I guess.

Peace, I’ve got to bounce. I’m sitting in the future here, so this counts as a post for Thursday. I shan’t be choking any chickens just yet.

Written by a dude for poop and squiggles.

I pledge allegiance. I do pledge it solemnly. Today brings the initiation of what we, in the land of the Nappy Ones, would like to call mast-probation. Yeah, I know. That complex noun seems a bit too twisted. Could it be…? Well, it is. Let’s explicate, shall we?


 I shall undertake to contribute meaningfully and earnestly to this blog daily for a period of seven days. For every day that I do not contribute, I shall endure the pen[is]alty. That is to beat and spank that limbless monkey attached to the nether regions of my anatomy till it yields. Needless to say, I would have to expose my inner workings as a part of this punishment.


 Good Lordy! After a successful week, the undertaking shall be extended to a period of 30 days. Upon the completion of 30 days, I shall endeavour to continue contributing for another 30 days. Hopefully, we can see this to the end.


I hope that by now, we’ve gotten past the shock and into the humour-zone.  I have no intention of sharing my wankskepades with any of you, but should I fail… dun dun dunnnn.

***Think Lonely Island***

I promise you nothing but fleshy, savoury texts ~ guaranteed to satiate your qualitative appetites. Sign up to the blog make sure you get the daily scoop. Try being my friend on facesbook: http://tinyurl.com/6rvps85. I’m dying to meet you all. Show support, but don’t give me a hand.


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Enjoy the poetry, short stories, scenic descriptions, opinion pieces, and apparent utter nonsensical rhetoric at times.


Written by a dude for poop and squiggles.

Now I know a lot of you may have encountered this brand already, but I think it’s about time I let those of you who never had a clue in on a little something something:

Your history is your present. Your history is your future.


You can quote me on that ish. Let me explain:


.A little bit louder shall we?



.So here’s the deal. In South Africa, a 20 cent piece (coin) was referred to as a 2 Bop (TwoBop). It is a localised version of the 2 Bob (20 shillings) coin.. .These coins were often used to play commonplace arcade games in corner stores in South africa. Perhaps you are familiar with the Capcom titles such as Street Fighter and Snow bros..

...These titles became regular features for kids after school and during the day for those youthful adolescants, not yet entrenched in laborious factory hours. Often enough skinny, snotty nosed kids would crowd around those who had the loose change and skill to “clock” (complete) the relevant games. Those were the days..

.It’s with this air of nostalgia, that a new brand with a new style was born in 2004. Effectively, the 2Bop brand has taken what could be identified as the 8 bit (includes 16 bit~for all intended purposes) era and stylised it into a retro looking~forward thinking concept. It has become a testament to localised culture with an air for manoeuvrability in an international arena. What do i mean by this? Well, the brand manages to encapsulate a Capetonian identity and a sense of history. At the same time, the era that it hints towards, is one that can be identified with on a global scale. I’m talking about what I like to call the 8-bit frequency. It’s a subculture that incorporates the old heavyweight titles of a time past. This subculture boasts followers hailing from the 8 bit era and those born out of that temporal context, but are quirkily drawn to by its allure. Old school is cool school which is always new school. Let’s not stray from our purpose here. Twobop has managed to capitalise on this 8-bit frequency and come to make it its own. Not only is it an independant brand in motion, with its roots entrnched in history, it’s a brand that’s gaining recognition. Check out the dope picture below. The brains behind the brand managed to persuade The Jupiter Drawing Room (a sizeable South African ad agency) to support the movement. How did they do it? by having an established base and sound business prospects all well explicated. Check out the image to access the full article on that.. …

 But yo, it’s time to fly. i’ve been holding this piece back for a month now. I kept saying i was gonna finish it.
Stay Twobopular: http://www.Twobop.co.za (see if you can spot all of the 8-bit frequency cultural references in the apparel)


Written by a dude for poop and squiggles.