Millions of Dead RappersJim Goad
After the Atlanta-based one-hit hip-hop wunderkind who goes by the silly name of “Silento” was arrested and charged last week with murdering his cousin, his publicist referred to him as a “beautiful soul.”
To clarify, she wasn’t talking about the murdered cousin. She was talking about his accused killer, 23-year-old Ricky Lamar Hawk, a recording artist specialized in urban mating songs of the primitive call-and-response type. Silento’s one brief desperate taste of fame came six years ago with the viral dance hit “Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae),” which went to #3 on the Billboard Hot 100. As of this writing, the song’s official video has garnered nearly TWO BILLION views on YouTube.
Now, if a song called “Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae)” that comes complete with its own special dance sounds dumb, trust me when I say it’s dumber than you can imagine. For one thing — and I could only take about 20 seconds of it before switching it off and saying, “This is wrong, I must not tolerate this” — it seems as if “Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae)” is the entire lyric sheet for this so-called “song.” The video shows Mr. Silento and a high-school auditorium of eager-but-impaired young black teens chanting and thrusting in tandem with an insectoid frenzy as if they’re all trying to intimidate the hapless residents of a rival African village.
However, Ricky “Silento” Hawk failed to properly ride the giant ding-dong of clout that the “Nae Nae” song gave him. It took him another three years before he could get his shit together enough to release his debut album, Fresh Outta High School. When that failed to make much of a splash, he rushed out a sequel five months later with the ingenious title of Fresh Outta High School 2. When he found no smashing success with that one, he sought attention by granting interviews about what a Depressed Young Black Man he was:
I’ve been fighting demons my whole life. My whole life. I was born with weed, coke, heroin, pills, all type of drugs in my system. I saw family members talking to walls. I watched family members fight. I watched family members try to kill each other. Nobody should have to watch that.
Over the course of two days last August in California, Silento was first charged with roughing up an intimate female partner, then charged the next day with invading a neighbor’s apartment wielding an axe presumably in search of the roughed-up intimate female partner, whom he suspected of cheating on him.
Last October in Georgia, he was clocked by police at 143 miles per hour on Interstate 85. According to the police report, when he first handed his driver’s license over to the arresting officer, he said “We ain’t do nothing wrong.” Then he told the officer that he had just left a nightclub and was being followed: “If there is like 10 cars following me, I can do 143 because I am not a regular person, and you could go look on your computer and it would tell you that.”
Sure, to your average Joe, Ricky “Silento” Hawk is not your average person, because your average person doesn’t get arrested for shooting their cousin in the face and leaving them dead in the street.
For rappers, though, it’s a pretty regular occurrence.
After his arrest, Silento’s publicist, an overweight black woman named Chanel Hudson, pecked out the following tear-jerker on Instagram:
Please send my client Silento some positive vibrations. Over the past several years, Ricky has been suffering immensely from a series of mental health illnesses. We will continue in his efforts of treatment, but we ask in the meantime the public uplift him and his family in immediate prayer & positive energy!! Ricky is a beautiful soul, and we hope that the same people who came up whippin’ & nay naying with him, continue to support him and lifted in prayer!! God bless. . . .’”
God bless you, too, Chanel.
My opinion as an impenitent and nearly senile white man is that if black lives really mattered to the black community — and I’m talking to YOU, black community, don’t act like I don’t know you’re reading this — they would forbid young black men from becoming rappers.
In the brief flurry of journalistic energy I expended to do basic background research for this article, I uncovered at least 15 cases where rappers were convicted of murder.
The funniest such case will always be that of C-Murder. He was born Corey Miller, the brother of kind-of-a-big-deal Louisiana record producer Master P. One night at a Louisiana club, C-Murder beat and shot a 16-year-old fan of his to death. He was convicted of second-degree murder and sentenced to life. In an apparent sign of his having mellowed, he’s changed his handle to C-Miller.
In 2002, a Texas-based rapper called Big Lurch was dusted out of his measly brains on PCP when he murdered his female roommate, ripped out her lungs, and ran naked and bloody into the streets. Apparently, he’d chewed off pieces of his victim’s face, as her remains were found in his stomach.
Apparently, though, it’s much more dangerous to be a rapper than to be on a rapper’s bad side. Wikipedia actually has a “List of murdered hip-hop musicians.” As of this writing, they list 49 murdered hippety-hoppers, from Scott La Rock in August 1987 all the way to the latest, King Von, in November 2020.
Forty-nine murdered hip-hop musicians. Wikipedia doesn’t even have a page for “murdered polka musicians.”
I know this will sound very cold and perhaps a tad sadistic, but there’s a dark streak of OCD deep within my soul that would allow me great comfort if the number totaled 50 rather than 49. It’s a much more rounded-off and agreeable number. I’m not saying that anyone should kill hip-hop artists, because that is not only clearly wrong, it’s illegal. It’s just sort of a numbers thing happening inside my head, that’s all. It has nothing to do with wishing suffering or loss of life upon other humans.
But according to black-lifestyle bible XXL magazine, to date 77 hip-hop artists have been murdered, a number which provides even further vexation to the numerically obsessive-compulsive, because at that point there will be no relief until the tally reaches 100.
Sometimes a promising young rapper will meet his demise when a fight breaks out over a water pistol.
Or let’s say a rapper who is barely 18 will run his mouth and get shot to death by someone twice his age over an argument involving a video game.
Or a 32-year-old rapper — which is 100 in Rapper Years — gets shot and killed in Detroit after a fight broke out involving a billiards game.
And let us never forget the mystery-laden murders of Tupac and Biggie, which will forever be the Twin Holocausts of Hip-Hop.
I do not profess to know the guilt of Ricky Lamar “Silento” Hawk in his murder case. If there were any justice, he would have been sent back to Africa on a boat made of bamboo leaves simply for making that “Nae Nae” video.
Mind you, this doesn’t count the aspiring rappers. Everyone I’ve mentioned so far at least has some measure of notoriety or chart success.
At last count, there were 42 million black people in the USA. Since it’s usually men killing men in order to get exclusive access to the women, I’ll estimate that leaves, oh, 18 million black men currently remaining in America.
Due to my extensive experiences from decades of taking public transportation with black people, I can state with confidence that at any given time, 40% of black males are aspiring rappers.
Unless we, as a nation, get a handle on this crisis that’s killing young black men, we’re looking at millions of dead rappers.
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Mr. Goad. Thanks for the link to XXL, I thought I knew all about the daftness of black names – but this forum has truly enlightened me. Furthermore, it is alleged that ‘Silento’ is actually being jailed and suppressed with backing from Big Oil. They are naturally concerned about his landmark paper detailing the possibility of cheap and easy energy via nuclear fusion…
Funny article as always.
50 would be the Dirty Half Hundred
You can’t help but laugh at this shit. And then you realize wait, this is the shit young people listen to unironically.
I am considering asking China or Russia to take me in as a refugee from this country that promotes black criminals over the well-being of law abiding and productive white citizens. We’re a persecuted group now.
I have some 30s-ish Dissident Right friends. They are annoyed when I say that hip hop is the music of our enemies.
Just like I bonded with some disgusting music like Kiss as a young teen they have bonded with hip hop. As the poet says, “we fight the fire while we’re feeding the flames.”
2 or 3 years ago I read of Kiss cruises, where among other events they had Paul Stanley solo playing original Bob Dylan-inspired folk music. But aging hip hop fans will never see the spectacle of Run DMC playing the blues while trapped on a ship in the Gulf of Mexico. Sucks for them!
If you can actually make it through the entire song, you’re a stronger man than I’ll ever be. I’d rather chew glass, it’s that fucking retarded.
I made it to one minute. Once the ‘Stanky Leg’ lyric kicked in, I had to admit defeat.
Hip Hop Holocaust
P Egleg the Hip Hop Holocaust survivor. He should have a colostomy bag from the er um er bullet in his guts, nuffins to do with gang rape in prison.
Honest to Goad, Jim is my favorite writer.
I was going to get some routine lab work done yesterday on the near west side of South Bend, Indiana. The lab is located adjacent to a snazzy little gentrified enclave of historic homes. As is typical, this enclave is directly adjacent to a vast swathe of less than snazzy blocks of similar historic homes in need of positive vibrations. Having lived on the fringes of such places off and on over the years, I can attest to to the enthusiasm for intense mathematics (“Intense Mathematics” could be a rap monicker for the taking) needed for daily survival in such communities. Heres a poem for all aspiring urban wordsmiths:
What kind of wisdom is this?
Hardcore rocket science, goin on round here.
Erudite propositions, postulated and pondered…for the benefit of…
this neighborhood so vast.
These muthaphuckin minds, these muthaphuckin streets,
unshackled and unfettered.
All equations solved.
And here I thought I was the only one who noticed. I wonder if this incident will get added to the tally?
I watched the entirety of ‘Watch Me Whip Nay Nay’ and I have to say I was impressed. It has a cast of at least 75 most of them apparently paid professional actors. The high school kids are all Negroes but there are also Jewish, huwhite, and Koreans represented. Who’d a thunk that a 22 year old American Negro from a violent and deprived background would have the skills to fund, direct, and orchestrate this production?
The video is about the new dance, ‘the stanky leg’ which from the leg gestures and looks of disgust on the faces appears to be about malodorous crotch. Yes, pretty sexist but nobody complained.
The cousin was 34 year old Frederick Rooks. He passed away on Deep Shoals Circle in the town of Pantherville. He was shot about 8 times in the face and leg but it took a while for him to bleed out.
“The cousin was 34 year old Frederick Rooks. He passed away on Deep Shoals Circle in the town of Pantherville. He was shot about 8 times in the face and leg but it took a while for him to bleed out.”
How very sad! No doubt had he lived rather than take eight rounds at close range he would have become the greatest artist since Michelangelo, but alas, it was not to be. “More tea, vicar?”, as we say in England!
Account of C-Murder’s murder of his “biggest fan”, apparently because the 16-year-old had the temerity to approach him at a nightclub. I just hope Mr. Murder is paying for his life-long stay at Angola Prison by picking enough vegetables.
“But according to black-lifestyle bible XXL magazine, to date 77 hip-hop artists have been murdered, a number which provides even further vexation to the numerically obsessive-compulsive, because at that point there will be no relief until the tally reaches 100.”
Or 777. It’s a triple lucky number.
No! 49 is a perfect square while 50 is a mediocre number. Now, 100, that’s a beautiful number since it’s both a perfect square and a true round number. 100 is a number we should all aspire to.
“Unless we, as a nation, get a handle on this crisis that’s killing young black men, we’re looking at millions of dead rappers.”
See there? There’s hope in this world after all, the end of negro fatigue.
Mamas don’t let your babies grow up to be rappers…sound like a hit? They seem to be much more deadly to blacks than any police. Stick with crime. The police are much safer to deal with.
Like Mr. Goad I spent much of my youth in the 1980s punk scene so I’m assuming the title of this article was inspired by Millions Of Dead Cops, the p.c. punk band whose memorable 1982 debut album contained ditties like “John Wayne Was A Nazi” and their loving tribute to McDonald’s, “Corporate Deathburger”.
If I remember my American punk rock history, the name MDC (Millions of Dead Cops) did not get them out of any tickets while touring the USA in a ‘70s Ford Econoline with 500K mi. on it, so they changed their name to MDC (Multi-Death Corporation), a name much less conspicuous when cops off the interstate in Enid, OK searched the van during a traffic stop.
Yeah, they changed their name a few times.
I was wondering how a Texas band could hate whites, Christians and cops so virulently but I see their singer and lyricist is a (((Tribesman))) from Long Island, NY.
Thank goodness for classical music, which I listen to exclusively anymore. I listened to alternative rock while at work from 2005-17 — I had a nice cubbyhole office where I wouldn’t disturb anyone, but all I remember from that was “Radiohead”, which I still think is the best ever. The only ‘rap’ I have heard was unwittingly pumped into my ears while stopped at red lights, and it sure didn’t give me good feelings about Blacks, but I thought — “Oh, well, they’re young, they’ll get over it”. I wonder if they ever did. The same sentiments about ‘Ranchero’, which blares all over So. Calif. So, when people call me — and all of us non-whites — racist, they give all sorts of explanations and present us with huge lists of ways to improve our attitude, such as the current “White Fragility” seminars. But no one ever mentions music.
Lol there have been at least 4 decedents off the top of my head this past couple years (including a trial currently ) that had “aspiring rapper “ in the tear jerker story. And I’m in Canada for God’s sake.
Lol 40% of black males are aspiring rappers. Its funny how i bottled up these thoughts for decades since the media and public education was painting them as Mr Huxtable and Steve Urkle. The internet and blacks with camera phones are revealing just how violent they really are.
Rap is a form of privatized workfare for unathletic blacks. It gives blacks with no other career prospects hope that they can become millionaires so they don’t turn to crime.
No matter how repetitive, dumb and unmusical rap is, whites will pretend that it is a legitimate “job” for a black person.
What happens when a white middle-aged Scotsman end up living in a building turned into a crack house by Chicago gangbangers, and they shoot a drill rap video there? Find out:
Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae) is six years old & yet I’d never heard of it…
It is an artistic masterpiece that puts Silento up with musical geniuses like Mozart
Hopefully Lord Biden grants him a Presidential Pardon
Ha ha. What a retard. If only he would be Silento.
What I found revealing was the scene in which several White women were standing there being disgusted by Silento.
It’s all Blacks really care about. Everything they do is calculated to anger, disgust and frighten Whites. It’s the only way they can find to define themselves since they are such stupid failures in every single way.
In my youth I knew some White bikers (Jacksonville chapter of the Outlaws). Those guys were the same way. All they cared about was shocking the citizens. They lived lives of squalor, addiction and poverty. But they were frightening, and to them that made up for everything.
Several of those guys snapped out of it, and became success stories. Blacks don’t have that option because of their unbelievably low IQs and their horrible temperaments and characters.
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