Return of the Devil's Son

Even if you’ve already heard every song, freestyle and leaked verse Big L ever made, you’ll still want to cop Return of The Devil’s Son, on Tuesday. I’ll bet one of my eyeballs that it’ll be better most posthumous albums. Remember Biggie’s Born Again? Yeah, it’s mostly recycled verses over new beats. But the new Zone of Danger produced by J-Love is just as dope as the original Danger Zone.

L was Hip-hop’s fiercest lyricist. A genius, and not in the loosely tossed around way that people call Kanye a genius.

He was hip-hop’s last great hope. Jay-Z owned most of the last decade, but when L roasted Jigga in the classic 10-minute freestyle on Stretch & Bobbito.

It was about two years after Big and Tupac died when L was shot to death in February 1999. But Big L didn’t get a parade in Harlem like Biggie’s funeral in Brooklyn. He didn’t have the mythical status of Tupac that made kids think he was still alive.

It was ominous. The next February Big Pun checked out. Now the so-called genius of hip-hop gets suckered into being a pawn to promote George Bush’s book.

Though I disagree with the baseless assertion that hip-hop is dead, I think you can point to the late 90s as when simpleminded narcissism began to eat at the genre’s quality.

It’s evident in the slang. In 1993, after Wu-Tang Clan renamed Staten Island “Shaolin,” they sparked a slang trend for money with the song C.R.E.A.M. –Cash Rules Everything Around Me.

By 1999, we adopted Weezy’s “bling,” for jewelry and car rims. Since then, “gangsta” has become an adjective.

But before simplistic brain farts became widely used terminology, Big L was hip-hop’s slang ambassador. His 1998 single “Ebonics,” was the RosetaStone of slang. He rapped like an ESL professor with a PhD in street talk.

Anyone who appreciates good hip-hop should do him or herself a favor and get Return of the Devil’s Son. Unless Lil Wayne goes back to jail and you have to rally for his freedom. Wouldn’t want to miss that. Ok for now.