As many of you, I’ve been paying attention to the Olympics.  I’ve been reading about the events more than I’ve been watching, because, let’s face it, there’s a 16 hour time difference and I need my beauty rest.   But I’ve caught Olympic fever- there’s something about witnessing goals achieved, athletic perfection achieved, sportsmanship, and the coming together for a common goal that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Perusing the Olympics website, I found myself rewarding about a number of rather obscure sports (to me at least) and wondered who some of the champs may be of rappers competed. Athletic prowess aside, I drafted a list of Hip Hop medalist, and called in my Alumnah partner in crime, Crazy88, for his thoughts. The process was simple, take the brief definition (cut and pasted for your viewing pleasure) written about each sport on the official Olympics site, and match it up with the Hip Hop equivalent. Some we got pretty well, others we guessed at (the sports and definitions really are rather obscure). Take a look and chime in below if you agree of who your picks would be. (more…)

T.G.I.F.F. We made it through another week! Hallelujah.  Whether its pay day, lay day or just another Friday for you, here is your latest dose of freaky fuck factoids I’ve scoured the net for: (more…)

Dear Isaac,

I can’t believe you are gone.

You were from an era where men where MEN, capital M-E-N: strong, dynamic, undeniably sexual, sensual and flawed. A bygone era where artists weren’t afraid to stand for something besides their jewelry box. A time when artistic excellence was unparalleled.  You represent an era where songs where 10 plus minute long opus’ were the norm, music wasn’t rushed to fit a playlist; your music was robust, sensuous, frenetic, flush with instruments. With every key stroke and horn blare, your body responded to his music as if it were an ancient language, deeply ingrained in every fiber of your being.  When the horns swelled, so did your soul. (more…)

T.G.I.F.F. Its been a helluva week for me, probably been a rough one for you as well. Something about August is just draining; it’s hot and humid and we’re probably all carrying childhood scars and memories of how August represented the end of our free summers and school was fast approaching. However, now we are responsible adults (or we pretend to be on occasion)  so all Fridays in August signify is a possible pay day and a possible lay day.  In honor of the possible laying, here is your latest installment of fun and freaky sex factoids: (more…)

In numerology, the number five signifies coming to life, invention, vitality, enjoyment, play, and creativity. The Grammy nominated Kentucky rap quintet Nappy Roots is the literal personification of all that the number 5 represents. From a 2003 appearance in Iraq, Kuwait and Qatar as one of the few Hip Hop acts (and one of the most requested!)  to participate in a USO tour, to artistic collaborations with everyone from Kanye West to The Dave Mathews Band, Nappy Roots has come a long way from throwing house parties as undergrads at western Kentucky State University. True entrepreneurs, Nappy Roots have been steady grinding, releasing mixtapes and touring, staying in touch with fans and creating music that has been a southern stew of blues, rap, politics, alcohol, weed, sex, soul and fun. After taking the industry by storm with 2002’s platinum selling Watermelon, Chicken & Gritz, and following that up Wooden Leather a year later, Nappy Roots earned themselves a plethora of accolades and fans across the globe. They are the epitome of grown ass men, unapologetic and true to themselves with their word as their bond.

Those words have kept them bonded to diehard fans as they navigated the often tumultuous music industry. An exit from Atlantic Records and down a member (R. Prophet left to pursue a solo career), five years later, official Kentucky Colonel’s Skinny Deville, B. Stille, Ron Clutch, Scales and Big V have spent the last 5 years grinding hard and with the August 5 release of their 5th CD looming, and a new deal with Fontana/Universal, Nappy Roots is poised to establish themselves once again as a force to be reckoned with.

I recently had the opportunity to have a very candid conversation with Skinny Deville about where Nappy Roots has been, why the fuck the rap biz is all sorts of fucked up and what’s on the horizon for one of rap music’s most creative groups. (more…)

Dear Justin,

Die you ignorant Cracka ass cracka. I’m sorry, that was rude. To the point, but rude nonetheless.

Frankly you don’t deserve much more. You are the kind of talentless douche bag that I generally try and ignore, however you have seemingly wormed your way into the word talented and are spreading your craptastic doucheness and racist antics in a rather broad way. (more…)

T.G.I.F.F. What’s that extra F for you ask? Fucking! Its Friday,, and we haven’t chatted about sex lately
(despite what Says seems to think), so before you run off for a weekend of baseless debauchery , one night stands and orgasmic delight, here are some interesting factoids to ponder. (more…)

Def Jam artist Rick Ross was outed. It turns out, he had a career unbecoming of a rap artist prior to be a rap artists.  We at Alumnah have also uncovered another starling fact that may come as another shock to the weary hearts of the Hip Hop nation.  Many of you may want to sit down first. His name isn’t actually Rick Ross. That lying bustard!! Let’s riot!!!

I kid of course; I’d never incite public disturbances on a massive scale, but f’real….. Ya’ll are putting way too much fucking power in an entertainers image. Cats are running around the innanets acting like the motherfucker shot your momma. So Ricky isn’t quite a boss. So he was a… Corrections. Officer.  So the fuck what? (more…)

Dear Hip Hop:

I hate to be the one to inform you, and I know you won’t like to hear this, but, well… Barack doesnt give a fuck about you. Barack may be your homeboy, but you sure as hell aren’t his.  Frankly, I for one am glad. (more…)

I spent a rainy Saturday watching Willard Smith’s latest summr blockbuster Hancock. As many of you have probably discussed, it was a rather subpar summer movie, cool premise, but relatively inept. Will Smith is a surly superhero, saves some guy who works in PR who insists on paying him back by rehabbing his image, takes him home to meet the wife & kids for Super Meatball night. It literally couldn’t have been more obvious that blonde wifey was hiding things, blah blah, cut to the chase- we find out the Charlize Theron, as happy blonde wife, is also a superhero, but in hiding and the wife of Will’s superhero. She whines and mopes, gets in a big fight with Will, mainly because she doesn’t want to be a super hero anymore. It’s been 3000 years and she just wants to be normal and have super meatball Thursdays.  Instead of portraying the superhero archetype, what we witness is instead a perfect manifestation of a weak woman unable to deal with power of any kind stereotype. (more…)