CD Review of God Bless the Child by Guerilla Black
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Artist Garage Records
Guerilla Black:
God Bless the Child

Reviewed by Jason Thompson


o peeps, it’s time for another rap revew in the hizzouse. Word. Today we are featuring the one, the only Guerilla Black and his new joint entitled God Bless the Child. It’s droppin’ like dolla bills, yo. Mad money. A cash cow flowin’ with the knowin’. Now don’t be disrespectin’ the man. Dude’s been takin’ shit from people puttin’ his ass down sayin’ he’s nothin’ but a B.I.G. wannabe with none of the skills to pay the bills. Yo, but peep this, shorty. My man G.B. is alive and not bein’ pimped out over ‘n over posthumously like that other cadaver in a corpse shack, Tupac. Dude doesn’t have a memory to pay tribute and dollars to. He’s right here in the here and now and makin’ mad money, G.

Word. Anyhow, my man kicks off this C to the D with “Genesis.” He gives a shout out to the main man upstairs and tells us that it’s Him who wrote these thoughts on Black’s heart. So much thanks must go to that. You know, it’s just a track describin’ what he’s doin’. He drops the word “man” and the phrase “like, you know” over and over. Dude’s maybe not so articulate when he’s speakin’ from the heart and not rappin’ it. But we’re feelin’ it. If it weren’t for God, my man wouldn’t be here makin’ music with Parental Advisory stickers on the front and droppin’ tracks like “She Wanna Baller.” Yeah, let’s praise God for helpin’ write that one on G.B.’s heart. No doubt. And of course, if it wasn’t for Our Heavenly Father, my man wouldn’t be sportin’ that fancy silver cross as prime bling. Praise Him!

Yeah, Guerilla then hits us upside the head with “Thank You (God Bless the Child)” where he tells us how bad he had it when his wife died and how he was at odds with God, but then, you know, how God also gave him his son. Nah, I don’t mean God gave him His son Jesus, but how God gave G.B. his own son. Anyways, dude goes on to Praise Him! He tells us how God saved him from “cookin’ up base” to puttin’ him on the stage. Awww yeah. Sounds like another junkie gone rapper tale. Funny how God’s lookin’ out for all those guys and making sure they all get paid and in the meantime isn’t doin’ a damn thing for the millions of people on this planet who really need some help. But hey, He’s keepin’ my man in the black. Praise Him!

On “The Streets” dude be keepin’ it real by tellin’ us all about the hard times he had…on the streets. He keeps using the slow beats and weepy piano bits that he milked dry on the previous track. He sounds like he’s getting’ winded and may need to sit down while enunciating such skillful raps about the same old trials and tribulations we’ve been hearing from countless other dudes before him. Hey…maybe my man ain’t the real deal after all, yo. You don’t think he’s just doing this for his own gain, do you? Suddenly I feel cheated, man. My heart is crying tears of shame.

“You can never say Guerilla never sold albums” says G. on “Whatever.” It’s another slow one. He seems to be running out of steam and breath on this one. Yo, look, he’s talking about Compton. Shit, didn’t NWA cover that whole chapter way back when? We know it’s a bad place to grow up. Dude, that’s about the fourth clichéd track you’ve dropped so far. Tell me you’re for real. Let’s go ahead and hear “She Wanna Baller.” Man, did you seriously just rhyme “qualifications” with “crustaceans?” And you dissed Michael Jackson’s face, too? Damn, man. Talk about old news. Get on the current page, G.

Oh man, now we’re at “Put Yo Hands Up” and it’s one of those raps where you have to prove yourself and diss the critics and naysayers by saying you’re the real thing. Another old idea. Man, whatever happened to a rap album that had fresh beats, fresh thoughts, and didn’t play like some long, drawn out commercial for telling us all how bad the “artiste” has it and how good he is at what he does? Such disillusionment I’m going through right now. Makes me wanna kneel down and pray.

But hey, there is “Pour Me a Drank.” No. That’s not even worth mentioning. But at least on the closing “Revelations” G.B. shouts out to “all the real niggas” and does little kiss sounds on the mic to ‘em. Screw it. I can’t do the homey impression anymore. Anyone who appreciates rap music will see right through this waste of space and move on to something more entertaining. Of course, there are those who like their rap like this and can spend hours on end listening to their idols go on incessantly about the same old shit. Let’s put it this way: God isn’t wasting His time listening to Guerilla Black tracks. Word.

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