Framing the chorus of your serious-as-a-heart-attack comeback single—no sophomoric giggles, no compositional whimsy, nose-to-grindstone time signature—into an inferred referendum on your own band? Ballsy cusses, ain't they: "You say you speak from your heart, but your heart's all gone."
Cam'ron & Vado
In hip hop, there's usually some degree of coordination and coherence between rappers and the samples they ride, some separation, but here producer araabMuzik puts the glossolalia frenzy he's built his spare, almost staccato beat around front and center, forcing Cam and Vado to come hard in direct competition. As a result, there's an unusual degree of vocal dissonance on offer that represents a significant amount of the song's velocity.
If you actually believe that everybody in Fred Durst's 'hood owns a shotgun, I've got some circa-2000 internet stocks I'd like to sell you.
No Gang Colors
Behold, a potent blurt of genuine, guttural hardcore: little more than amplified, marauding id, huffing and puffing through a thicket of neuroses in less time than it took you to read this sentence. Guaranteed to put a little pep in your step, some nitroglycerin in your Sanka.
Stalley feat. John Mayer
Oh, what? Wait, sorry: I just keep picturing a furrowed-brow John Mayer trying and failing to load and hoist a Desert Eagle and I collapse hopelessly back into hysterics.