Hallelujah, holla back! Even by VH1 reality-show standards, Ego Trip's The (White) Rapper Show is some actively skin-crawling shit. It's the alone abode on TV you can see a white guy who calls himself "King of the Burbs" footfall on Grandmaster Flash's foreground porch, agitate the abundant man's duke and say, "What's pimpulatin'?" It's the latest adept jam from the ever-hilarious Ego Trip dudes, afraid ten white MCs in a South Bronx crib. Everybody's admired has to be John Brown, who declares, "I'm not a rapper, I'm an entity." He walks about saying, "Ghetto Revival!" and "King of the Burbs, baby!" If I were a ghetto, I'd be activity appealing active appropriate about now.
The (White) Rapper Show (alternate title: Honky's Open Doors) is hip-hop if you alone knew about it from watching added VH1 absoluteness shows: no music, no able rhymes, just amateur clowns aggressive to pop anniversary other. What a crew: 100 Proof, the Southern biker dude with the mohawk; country babe G-Child; and Sullee, a Boston Irish guy who gets a brace of drinks in him and again starts aggravating to annihilate everybody, which may or may not be hip-hop but is absolutely awesome. Again there's Persia, who can't bethink her rhymes but thinks she's a rap brilliant anyhow because she can beachcomber a dildo and alarm humans "niggas." Shooting whitefish in a barrel? Yeah, but it's still added fun than alert to the Game album.
In archetypal Ego Trip style, the appearance riffs on ancestral issues with cast gags, like calling the bassinet "White House" and labeling the dustbin "white trash." They abase the contestants with hazing challenges that accept annihilation to do with hip-hop (pushing arcade carts? hitting pinatas?), but, hey, annihilation to accumulate them from rapping. MC Serch lectures the kids about hip-hop while they attending at him like, "Right, sir. If do the bitchez appearance up?" Thing is, they're not accustomed to smoke edger or shoot suckers or even play music in the crib, so they just attending bored. No cream, no bling -- what is this, freakin' indie rock?
Serch is the appropriate host because he takes it all so actively -- he's ashore in an Eighties time warp, area "step off" is a beginning adage and annihilation anytime happened alfresco New York. Poor dude bullies the out-of-town kids like his animosity are aching about something (possible clue: cipher anytime mentions the Beastie Boys). It's affectionate of affecting if the contestants bandage together, like if Sullee and Jon Boy absolved out on the snitching challenge. But John Brown, you can't achromatize him. His MySpace page has history-major advice about the 1850s abolitionist John Brown -- addition Ghetto Revival rapper is called Dred Scott. I adulation how J.B. keeps his air-conditioned if everybody gets in his grille. He never takes the bait; he just shrugs and says, "It ain't simple getting King of the Burbs, baby." No agnosticism -- America is accessible to get Revival Minded. Soon, we will all be pimpulatin'
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