2nd
Killin the Game: A Lesson in Swagger Jacking
I don’t know about y’all, but I simply can’t risk AKA abandoning our merry music blogging Voltron. In case you’re wondering I’d be one of the humerus lions, natch. (Rimshot!) But AKA? He’s a femur. Without him, we don’t have a good leg to stand on.
So to appease him I’m posting some of that dope Killa. I love Cam (no homo) because in a lot of ways Cam was Kanye before Kanye: incredibly brash, even more narcissistic and all too eager to challenge the conventions of meterosexual fashion. Don’t believe me? Just press play.
When you watch this video you’ll soon realize just how much of a template Cam served for Ye’s megalomaniacal persona. Here, Ye’s still very much in his awkward phase, still a bit uneasy in front of the lens, still trying to discover himself as a performer (no homo) and, as consequence, not yet fully comfortable beating his own chest. (Could that be some residual PTSD from the car wreck? ) The little bragging he does wholly serves Cam’s greater glory. Ye’s sartorial presentation is modest—just the Roc chain and a Bape tee, thanks—while Killa looks like he was rushed to set from Diddy’s ritual Hamptons fete.
Clothing aside, Cam has mostly kept his niceness to a whisper. (I mean, Dude is so hardcore he won’t even snitch on himself!) Yeezy, on the other hand, cranked his until the woofer blew because he craved mainstream fame and acceptance worse than TO did the endzone. (No Romo.) The Pharrell skater vibe is great/different/whatever and everything, but that asesthetic merely launched West. The braggadocio? The swag? The hoodies that define the Ye 8.08 relaunch? Yep, that’s classic Killa.
You need to start snitchin, Fam.
~ Filibuster Rhymes (Filla!)
(PS: This will only enhance your appreciation for Cam.)
