I was tempted to audio blog this one out using mangled Arabic of my own, but held back.
My good buddy Sir Mance-a-lot already expressed how I feel about the song’s implications, much to director Rik Cordero’s chagrin. Today we finally haterize the equally flagrant and culturally insensitive visual representation of Busta Rhymes and Ron Browz’s “Arab Money.” [pronounced AYE-rab]
I can’t help but wonder what actual AYE-rabs think of this shit. I’m actually afraid to play it in their presence even for journalistic purposes as some of the more hardcore fundamentalists get a little liberal and sloppy with the Jihad talk. Catching backlash from obscure gangsta rappers is one thing. Going balls-out Salman Rushdie is some whole next shit.
“Dude… You never go full-Rushdie.”
Unfortunately, Busta and his host of “a kazillion D-list rapsters” have no problem doing so as they desecrate the keffiyeh by saturating it with cognac, pork rib sauce and weed smoke. You’d think DJ Khaled would intervene on behalf of his people. Instead, he secures Coon of the Year honors for his enthusiastic participation in a video that disgraces the entire fertile crescent.
At least we’re spared the sound of his voice for once.
World War III is temporarily averted as one of the cubicle monkeys at Universal Motown clearly advised these shiftless nigroes to fix the “Aye-rab” mispronunciation in the chorus. Too bad no one suggested they clean up the offensive and intentional butchery of “Aye-rab” language… and NOT cast Indian dudes as Arab princes.
You also can’t fool me with them Puerto Rican chicks at the door. I know a damn Puerto Rican when I see one. Them broads from Middle East Harlem. Fuck outta here.
For shame, Cordero. Someone should inform my Q-borough representative that green screen is the root of all evil. I’m pretty sure that phony backdrops and excessive Auto-Tune use will be the subject of the next highly-anticipated Al-Qaeda mixtape.
Either that or Ghadafi Grillz Presents: Dedication 4. You never know what’ll be available for download on datpiff.com these days.
If there’s any positive to be taken from this hot ghetto mess, concerned viewers should be as relieved as I am to see that Spliff Star still finds employment as Busta’s lap ferret during these trying economic times. I’m pretty sure there’s no bailout plan in the works for aging hype men, so that’s what’s up.
[Blogger’s Note: There’s no such plan in the works for you favorite bloggers either.]
Speaking of aging, it’s pretty fucked up watching a once-sprightly Busta Rhymes waddle laboriously around the video set like Redd Foxx. I kind of want to have him and his grandpa belly put down so I can watch the “Woo-Hah” video with clear conscience.
Am I the only one who wonders what’s in the bags Ron Browz is shaking like Larenz Tate in Dead Presidents? When you need to remind everyone that you’re the “Ether Boy” at the beginning of your shit, that can’t be money. Maybe they’re unpaid child support invoices? You know, them Aye-rabs pay for their kids, Ron. If nothing else they bring them along to the U.S. and put them to work in the bodega.
Oh, don’t act like you don’t go in the damn corner store for an Arizona and see 7 year-old Samir holding a fuckin AK-47 doing the full-on Captain Morgan pose.
I can’t believe they put an Emperor Palpatine visage of Yasser Arafat in the video to gamble with. For starters, he wouldn’t dig on the keffiyehs that reek of Pork Chops O’ Chunky. Secondly, I done already told these niggas on XXL, AYE-rab money don’t fold. You can’t make it rain with oil fortunes unless there are Patriot Missiles involved. These one-flop-away-from-foreclosure record label slaves couldn’t step to the tables they Auto-Tune whine about.
Sigh. At least Busta actually delivers an Arabic chorus on the remix. I only know this to be true because he bellows the only Arabic phrase any American rapper ever knows.
You know, the 5AM jumpoff.
Questions? Comments? Requests? Think everyone in the Middle East is swimming in paper stacks? firstname.lastname@example.org
P.S.: A-Rod money would have been a far more appropriate and safe alternative. We could have completely averted my having to jump in that ass. No nullus.
P.P.S.: Eh, probably not.