Columns

SUSSER | Look Out for Lil’ Dicky

By |

By PHILIP SUSSER
Growing up, for “white-boys” such as myself, rap was an ironic musical genre. Us awkward Jewish boys fully embraced the overt, inflammatory language of rap, glossing over the true meanings of the lyrics and bopping our heads to the beat. It was pretty funny. I remember the first time I listened to 50 Cent’s “In da Club” (clean version), arguably the biggest banger Camp Mah-Kee-Nac has ever seen. When Curtis Jackson smoothly uttered the lines “We gon’ sip Bacardi like it’s your birthday,” I sang along with my own, “We gon sit the party like it’s ya birthday.” Because why would my nine-year-old self have any idea what Bacardi was, or the fact that birthday parties would be comprised of anything besides a trip to Chelsea Piers for bowling, arcade games and chocolate cake?