My girls cousin was showing me some music...

He HATES mumble rap, mainstream and the newer rap... He has his own “fuck mumble rap” merch. He’s like “I can’t even understand what the Migos are saying...

He showed me a song by an underground French rapper and was like, “I don’t understand him, I feel him” ..........OK

Idk guys, I just hate those dudes who post on social media how they hate rap nowadays and “hip hop is dead”

you wont escape that mindset coming here

Did U F*** Her? Seriously lmk

now you want us to start a circle jerk, agree with you and bash those haters too?

I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into grenades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a hundred thou wet Jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like thou with Satan
And the only thing I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get, the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton swap meet to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, they callin' all cars
'Cause they heard about what went on in D.C
Heard about Hot 97, my beef with 50
Now tell me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in his nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be pushing rock like Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dana Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like vomit
And I still shine like diamonds, they kicked me out of
G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the paint
Should I be mad? I ain't
I'm supposed to stop, I can't
Because I'm in the hood politicking, Impala liftin'
And I keep a black four-five on the side of my Prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like Kim before the d-cup
Continuously getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air Force
I said f*** Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that, so, motherfucker, move back
While I do B.I.G. and Pac impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss y'all, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap and why I gotta stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They don't know which hole to patch up when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback

they hate mumble rap more than they love the music they listen to

Half these people they say are mumble rappers don’t even mumble

They just hate trap or pop trap I guess