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Speak, the Hungarian Rapper

“Sometimes people make a war.”

“Don’t know what it’s for.”


Oh, so you did know what it was for?

This is genuinely horrible. Unlike the previous post featuring Bangs, this is just plain bad. There’s nothing redeeming about this at all. Here, I think an early line from the song perfectly exemplifies what I mean: “I hope my black brothers feel the same like me. Dre, Snoop, Puff, L, Tupac Shakur, rest in peace, he was the best.” What the fuck, Speak? What the fuck.

“Nobody wants a war. Life is short. Yeeah, come on.”

It would hesitate to even call this trash “rapping”. It’s more of a spoken-word track à la Bill Shatner’s brand of musical violence, but without being funny. He’s so earnest, so deep, so heartfelt that I cannot help but feel sickened at his outpouring of emotion. Speak wants so badly to have written the next great hip-hop ballad, but it comes off as so fucking trite that it’s laughable. God, and the group of backup singers?! Holy crap.

When he threw up the dove at the end, I threw up for real.

Thanks (but no thanks), Monica!

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