“Throwing your money away” is a common expression that means somebody is wasting their funds on useless things or are otherwise living with a lack of financial smarts. Kodak Black, however, decided to take that statement literally by actually getting rid of stacks of hundred dollar bills.
In a video shared on Instagram last night, the rapper is on a boat, grabbing stacks of hundreds and throwing them overboard into the water. He captioned the post, “I Broke You Off When Dem F*ck N****s Wouldn’t Give You A Dime !!! I Ain’t Owe You Sh*t N**** I Just Wanted To See You Shine !!! Yeen Never Gave Me Sh*t N**** I Had My Own Grind !!!!”
Then, in a tweet from earlier today, he tweeted a video of himself trying (and failing) to flush more $100s down a toilet.
Notably, this comes after the rapper tweeted that he would donate $1 million to charity if he received a pardon from Donald Trump in his final days in office. Sure enough, Black got the pardon he was looking for, but the tweet in which Kodak made his philanthropic promise was deleted. At the time, his lawyer said in a statement, “A statement promising something for something in exchange is not appropriate and although Kodak has always given to charity his whole career and will continue to do charity, not in exchange for anything. Some think this is a story. It isn’t.”
Summertime ’06 was a huge release for Vince Staples. Following a handful of mixtapes in the years prior, the rapper’s 2015 debut album was the first time a lot of fans were exposed to him. Additionally, the album remains Staples’ one of his biggest chart successes, at is has his highest peak on the Billboard Hot Rap Albums chart at No. 2. That album came out six years ago today, and Staples’ celebration on Twitter made him a trending topic.
This afternoon, he tweeted, “Summertime ’06 was 6 years ago. Thank you to everyone who listened. [heart emoji] N.I.P. TSkrap.” He then added a couple hours later, “Favorite song from Summertime ’06?” Sure enough, he got his answer, as “Norf Norf” started trending.
Summertime ‘06 was 6 years ago. Thank you to everyone who listened. N.I.P. TSkrap
— VINCE STAPLES JULY 9th (@vincestaples) June 30, 2021
Favorite song from Summertime ‘06?
— VINCE STAPLES JULY 9th (@vincestaples) June 30, 2021
He went on to describe his humble housing arrangement while making the album: “When Summertime ’06 was being made we stayed off 7th & Temple four deep in a one bedroom apartment with one 380. Life change fast lol.”
When Summertime ‘06 was being made we stayed off 7th & Temple four deep in a one bedroom apartment with one 380. Life change fast lol
— VINCE STAPLES JULY 9th (@vincestaples) June 30, 2021
Back when Staples first announced the album, he wrote of it on Instagram (as Stereogum notes), “Love tore us all apart. Love for self, love for separation, love for the little we all had, love for each other, where we came from… Summer of 2006, the beginning of the end of everything I though I knew. Youth was stolen from my city that Summer and Im left alone to tell the story. This might not make sense but that’s because none of it does, we’re stuck. Love tore us all apart.”
While it shouldn’t be a surprise to see hip-hop acts getting in on the NFT craze at this point, the latest rappers to announce their non-fungible product have attached some real value to it. A Tribe Called Quest is selling an NFT through Royalty Exchange which will grant holders access to a 1.5% share of the royalties from the iconic rap group’s first five albums: People’s Instinctive Travels And The Paths Of Rhythm, The Low End Theory, Midnight Marauders, Beats, Rhymes And Life, and The Love Movement.
The NFT is being auctioned on the Royalty Exchange website using Ethereum, beginning today and running through the next 27 hours as of press time. The starting price was 16.500 ETH (or $35,000) and so far, that number has gone up to 16.659 ETH ($35,921), with just two bids. Expect that number to jump as the deadline nears You can watch the bids in real-time, and the winner can expect a biannual distribution of around $3,000, provided that CDs, vinyl, streams, and sync licensing hold steady.
The site describes Tribe’s catalog as “celebrated by critics and fans alike as the most intelligent, artistic rap group of the 1990s.” Some of the places their music has appeared include the 2021 live-action Tom And Jerry film, the 2020 Pixar film Soul, the fan-favorite Apple+ series Ted Lasso, and tons of video games, movies, shows, and advertisements.
Moneybagg Yo gets trapped in a delusion in his ominous “Wockesha” video. The song, which is an ode to his love-hate relationship with lean, portrays the purple drink as a woman with whom Moneybagg maintains an unhealthy infatuation, so the video makes that metaphor visual. “Wockesha” appears as a beautiful woman with purple hair accompanying Moneybagg on his daily activities, but as in Bill Watterson’s Calvin & Hobbes comic strip, where Moneybagg sees a gorgeous companion, other people just see a man with a toxic attachment to an inanimate object (portrayed here as a pair of giant floating styrofoam cups).
Containing an interpolation of The Notorious BIG’s “One More Chance” remix and a cameo appearance from Lil Wayne, who details his own tumultuous relationship with the drug that has nearly killed him multiple times over the years, “Wockesha” is a heart-wrenching look at the allure of an activity that has entrapped many of hip-hop’s finest, a la Beanie Sigel’s “Purple Rain” or Future’s “Codeine Crazy.” The Wayne intro is excerpted from the New Orleans rapper’s 2009 interview with Tim Westwood, although Wayne’s appearance in the video is new, with Wayne reprising the speech from his own studio.
The subject matter of “Wockesha” prompted Yo’s fellow Memphian NLE Choppa to reach out to him, encouraging him to replace lean with Choppa’s own brand of plant-based products. So far, it doesn’t appear that Moneybagg is all that interested. He recently performed the song at the BET Awards.
Megan Thee Stallion is giving away a million bucks — but there’s a catch. In her new #CashAppForHotties campaign, Megan has partnered with Cash App to give away $1 million worth of stock to increase investing awareness and encourage participation in the stock market.
In an accompanying video explaining the campaign, Megan says, “Me and my thriving empire, Hot Girl Enterprises, have teamed up with Cash App to teach you everything I learned on the way up about money and how you can build your own empire.” She breaks down such concepts as fractional shares and diversification, reassuring viewers that “buying stocks isn’t only for the big players.”
“Buying stocks seems complicated, but really it’s a pretty simple process,” she continues. “The more you educate yourself the more equipped you’ll be to navigate investing. With my knowledge and your hustle, you’ll have your own empire in no time.”
Ever since her arrival on the scene, one of Rico Nasty‘s greatest strengths has been her chameleon-like versatility as she shapeshifts to suit any number of different styles. While she’s primarily noted for the chaotic punk-rock energy of songs like “Smack A Bitch,” she’s consistently shown that she can’t be limited to just being a screamo rapper and with her latest single, “Magic,” she stretches those creative muscles once again to show the world that she’s just as capable of making a club banger.
Incorporating some vaguely Mediterranean wind instruments and a sparse beat with a whole lot of swing, Rico’s latest is a swaggering, flirtatious celebration of a solid romantic relationship with plenty of pop appeal. If it seems like a huge departure from her more aggressive material like “OHFR?” and “STFU” or more straightforward trap-rap fare like “Don’t Like Me” or “Own It,” it only shows that she can fit any formula and make it work for her — and fill in the gaps in her stylistic palette, adding in easygoing danceable pop hits to draw in more fans who might not have jibed with her more challenging stuff.
And that’s a good thing for Rico as she prepares to release a new mixtape and build on her already impressive buzz, raising her profile even further as she steps into the stardom she’s worked so hard to attain.
Listen to Rico Nasty’s new track “Magic” above.
Rico Nasty is a Warner Music artist. Uproxx is an independent subsidiary of Warner Music Group.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
Quiet as it’s kept, Tyler has been one of the best pure MCs across not just one, but two generations. Debuting as he did at the tail end of the late-2000s blog era (when those Gangsta Grillz tapes reigned supreme) but being about 10 years younger than its biggest stars, Ty can proudly claim to represent both that time and this modern, post-Soundcloud streaming boom, acting as the bridge between both that someone like J. Cole imagines himself to be.
But, it was easy enough to forget that Tyler’s pen game is worthy of placement among rap’s upper echelons amidst all the chaos of his early introduction alongside Odd Future or his creative invention in more recent years as the sensitive loner of Flower Boy or the artful eccentric that was Igor. It’s kind of hard to pay attention to a clever turn of phrase or an armor-piercing punchline when you’re too busy feeling revulsion from watching a kid apparently down a roach, or mystified from his and his cohort’s antisocial antics.
Fortunately, Tyler’s latest alter ego, Tyler Baudelaire, has put all that behind him. In fact, of all the alter egos he’s displayed over the past several projects, this one feels the least like a put-on; Tyler was much too far removed in life circumstances from the awkward teen that was Flower Boy by the time he made the album bearing that title, while Igor was inherently a mask, playing up the Warhol-esque arthouse proclivities that drove that album to its critical acclaim and ill-fitting Best Rap Album Grammy win. On Call Me If You Get Lost, Tyler is most like himself, free of the artifice that he no longer feels the need to hide behind — and free to finally let his nuts hang, so to speak.
Here, he raps like a rapper. Boasts of wealth and status abound; on the chest-thumping “Lumberjack,” he flaunts that aforementioned golden statue, bragging that he “bought another car ’cause I ain’t how to celebrate.” He tells just what kind of car with a subtle hint in the punchline: “That big boy, that big bitch for all-weather / It never rain in Cali’, came with an umbrella.” That would be just about any car made by Rolls Royce, which stashes high-end umbrellas in the driver’s side doors of its automobiles. Tyler just told us he has a Rolls in the slickest way possible. Again, thank you, Westside Gunn. Sometimes, amid all the high-concept stuff out there in the world, you just want to hear a rapper floss cool stuff at a high level.
Tyler does cool stuff like this all over the album. On “Corso,” he spits a brain-teasing reference to the 106 & Park classics of his youth: “Hurricane-proof all the views, shit like ‘A Bay Bay.’” He slickly calls back to another misunderstood genius of rap on the barn-burning “Manifesto,” snarling, “I might not have dreadlocks, I might have these gold teeth / But I’m a n**** like you, and you’s a n**** like me.” I am trusting you to catch these references because to understand Tyler is to understand that Tyler is a true student of hip-hop, as well you should be too because if you’re only catching half the bars, you’re missing out. Tyler gets that, which is why he’s employed the ultimate signifier of cultural cachet, DJ Drama, to yell all over his tracks.
And look, I know that a lot of Tyler’s newer, younger, more sophisticated, hip, tasteful fans fell in love with the melodic bent his music has taken on since 2015’s Cherry Bomb. But as a member of that blog generation, someone who counts names like Kendrick Lamar and Wale among my peers and contemporaries, someone who recognized that Tyler could rap his Black ass off but didn’t seem to have anything to rap about until recently, I can’t help but feel like this is his most complete work yet.
He addresses racism, and the backlash to his refusal to speak out on issues that should be self-evident, on “Manifesto.” And his boasts are now Jay-Z level, not just in construction, but in content, revealing an un-self-conscious swagger that doesn’t aim to shock in its bluntness anymore. He’s just getting these bars off, feeling himself, and dismissing — not reacting to, truly dismissing — the lame criticisms his detractors fling at him “from your lunch break,” as he says on the provocatively-titled “Massa.”
Don’t even get me started on the production, which has finally achieved the ideal balance between his cacophonous, Neptunes-inspired percussion parties and the soulful wit of Igor’s most groovy moments. If there’s anything to be disappointed by, it’s that he soils the smooth H-Town sample on “Wusyaname” with an irksome verse from Youngboy Never Broke Again, who does the track justice but brings his abusive baggage to what should be another triumphant, bridging-the-gaps moment of cross-generational synergy. Tyler’s now the wise vet, passing the torch to hungry young upstarts like 42 Dugg that he was once semi-denied.
And he’s hanging, lyrically, socially, and financially with influences like Pharrell and Lil Wayne, bringing out their best because they need to keep him up with him. He even offers an olive branch to fans of his melodic material with “I Thought You Wanted To Dance,” which should appease the flower children who might well be bewildered by all this gruff tough talk. But it’s only an intermission in the rhythmic proceedings, offering a glimpse at a more well-rounded artist and letting us know this is only one of the tricks from his bag. That said, as much as you have to appreciate just how roomy and densely-packed that bag is, Tyler’s still left plenty of room for some good, old-fashioned, rhythm-and-rhymes-first-foremost-and-forever, “I’m the shit and I know it, now let me explain why”-style rap. Thank you, Westside Gunn.
Call Me If You Get Lost is out now on Columbia. Get it here.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
Quiet as it’s kept, Tyler has been one of the best pure MCs across not just one, but two generations. Debuting as he did at the tail end of the late-2000s blog era (when those Gangsta Grillz tapes reigned supreme) but being about 10 years younger than its biggest stars, Ty can proudly claim to represent both that time and this modern, post-Soundcloud streaming boom, acting as the bridge between both that someone like J. Cole imagines himself to be.
But, it was easy enough to forget that Tyler’s pen game is worthy of placement among rap’s upper echelons amidst all the chaos of his early introduction alongside Odd Future or his creative invention in more recent years as the sensitive loner of Flower Boy or the artful eccentric that was Igor. It’s kind of hard to pay attention to a clever turn of phrase or an armor-piercing punchline when you’re too busy feeling revulsion from watching a kid apparently down a roach, or mystified from his and his cohort’s antisocial antics.
Fortunately, Tyler’s latest alter ego, Tyler Baudelaire, has put all that behind him. In fact, of all the alter egos he’s displayed over the past several projects, this one feels the least like a put-on; Tyler was much too far removed in life circumstances from the awkward teen that was Flower Boy by the time he made the album bearing that title, while Igor was inherently a mask, playing up the Warhol-esque arthouse proclivities that drove that album to its critical acclaim and ill-fitting Best Rap Album Grammy win. On Call Me If You Get Lost, Tyler is most like himself, free of the artifice that he no longer feels the need to hide behind — and free to finally let his nuts hang, so to speak.
Here, he raps like a rapper. Boasts of wealth and status abound; on the chest-thumping “Lumberjack,” he flaunts that aforementioned golden statue, bragging that he “bought another car ’cause I ain’t how to celebrate.” He tells just what kind of car with a subtle hint in the punchline: “That big boy, that big bitch for all-weather / It never rain in Cali’, came with an umbrella.” That would be just about any car made by Rolls Royce, which stashes high-end umbrellas in the driver’s side doors of its automobiles. Tyler just told us he has a Rolls in the slickest way possible. Again, thank you, Westside Gunn. Sometimes, amid all the high-concept stuff out there in the world, you just want to hear a rapper floss cool stuff at a high level.
Tyler does cool stuff like this all over the album. On “Corso,” he spits a brain-teasing reference to the 106 & Park classics of his youth: “Hurricane-proof all the views, shit like ‘A Bay Bay.’” He slickly calls back to another misunderstood genius of rap on the barn-burning “Manifesto,” snarling, “I might not have dreadlocks, I might have these gold teeth / But I’m a n**** like you, and you’s a n**** like me.” I am trusting you to catch these references because to understand Tyler is to understand that Tyler is a true student of hip-hop, as well you should be too because if you’re only catching half the bars, you’re missing out. Tyler gets that, which is why he’s employed the ultimate signifier of cultural cachet, DJ Drama, to yell all over his tracks.
And look, I know that a lot of Tyler’s newer, younger, more sophisticated, hip, tasteful fans fell in love with the melodic bent his music has taken on since 2015’s Cherry Bomb. But as a member of that blog generation, someone who counts names like Kendrick Lamar and Wale among my peers and contemporaries, someone who recognized that Tyler could rap his Black ass off but didn’t seem to have anything to rap about until recently, I can’t help but feel like this is his most complete work yet.
He addresses racism, and the backlash to his refusal to speak out on issues that should be self-evident, on “Manifesto.” And his boasts are now Jay-Z level, not just in construction, but in content, revealing an un-self-conscious swagger that doesn’t aim to shock in its bluntness anymore. He’s just getting these bars off, feeling himself, and dismissing — not reacting to, truly dismissing — the lame criticisms his detractors fling at him “from your lunch break,” as he says on the provocatively-titled “Massa.”
Don’t even get me started on the production, which has finally achieved the ideal balance between his cacophonous, Neptunes-inspired percussion parties and the soulful wit of Igor’s most groovy moments. If there’s anything to be disappointed by, it’s that he soils the smooth H-Town sample on “Wusyaname” with an irksome verse from Youngboy Never Broke Again, who does the track justice but brings his abusive baggage to what should be another triumphant, bridging-the-gaps moment of cross-generational synergy. Tyler’s now the wise vet, passing the torch to hungry young upstarts like 42 Dugg that he was once semi-denied.
And he’s hanging, lyrically, socially, and financially with influences like Pharrell and Lil Wayne, bringing out their best because they need to keep him up with him. He even offers an olive branch to fans of his melodic material with “I Thought You Wanted To Dance,” which should appease the flower children who might well be bewildered by all this gruff tough talk. But it’s only an intermission in the rhythmic proceedings, offering a glimpse at a more well-rounded artist and letting us know this is only one of the tricks from his bag. That said, as much as you have to appreciate just how roomy and densely-packed that bag is, Tyler’s still left plenty of room for some good, old-fashioned, rhythm-and-rhymes-first-foremost-and-forever, “I’m the shit and I know it, now let me explain why”-style rap. Thank you, Westside Gunn.
Call Me If You Get Lost is out now on Columbia. Get it here.
The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
Quiet as it’s kept, Tyler has been one of the best pure MCs across not just one, but two generations. Debuting as he did at the tail end of the late-2000s blog era (when those Gangsta Grillz tapes reigned supreme) but being about 10 years younger than its biggest stars, Ty can proudly claim to represent both that time and this modern, post-Soundcloud streaming boom, acting as the bridge between both that someone like J. Cole imagines himself to be.
But, it was easy enough to forget that Tyler’s pen game is worthy of placement among rap’s upper echelons amidst all the chaos of his early introduction alongside Odd Future or his creative invention in more recent years as the sensitive loner of Flower Boy or the artful eccentric that was Igor. It’s kind of hard to pay attention to a clever turn of phrase or an armor-piercing punchline when you’re too busy feeling revulsion from watching a kid apparently down a roach, or mystified from his and his cohort’s antisocial antics.
Fortunately, Tyler’s latest alter ego, Tyler Baudelaire, has put all that behind him. In fact, of all the alter egos he’s displayed over the past several projects, this one feels the least like a put-on; Tyler was much too far removed in life circumstances from the awkward teen that was Flower Boy by the time he made the album bearing that title, while Igor was inherently a mask, playing up the Warhol-esque arthouse proclivities that drove that album to its critical acclaim and ill-fitting Best Rap Album Grammy win. On Call Me If You Get Lost, Tyler is most like himself, free of the artifice that he no longer feels the need to hide behind — and free to finally let his nuts hang, so to speak.
Here, he raps like a rapper. Boasts of wealth and status abound; on the chest-thumping “Lumberjack,” he flaunts that aforementioned golden statue, bragging that he “bought another car ’cause I ain’t how to celebrate.” He tells just what kind of car with a subtle hint in the punchline: “That big boy, that big bitch for all-weather / It never rain in Cali’, came with an umbrella.” That would be just about any car made by Rolls Royce, which stashes high-end umbrellas in the driver’s side doors of its automobiles. Tyler just told us he has a Rolls in the slickest way possible. Again, thank you, Westside Gunn. Sometimes, amid all the high-concept stuff out there in the world, you just want to hear a rapper floss cool stuff at a high level.
Tyler does cool stuff like this all over the album. On “Corso,” he spits a brain-teasing reference to the 106 & Park classics of his youth: “Hurricane-proof all the views, shit like ‘A Bay Bay.’” He slickly calls back to another misunderstood genius of rap on the barn-burning “Manifesto,” snarling, “I might not have dreadlocks, I might have these gold teeth / But I’m a n**** like you, and you’s a n**** like me.” I am trusting you to catch these references because to understand Tyler is to understand that Tyler is a true student of hip-hop, as well you should be too because if you’re only catching half the bars, you’re missing out. Tyler gets that, which is why he’s employed the ultimate signifier of cultural cachet, DJ Drama, to yell all over his tracks.
And look, I know that a lot of Tyler’s newer, younger, more sophisticated, hip, tasteful fans fell in love with the melodic bent his music has taken on since 2015’s Cherry Bomb. But as a member of that blog generation, someone who counts names like Kendrick Lamar and Wale among my peers and contemporaries, someone who recognized that Tyler could rap his Black ass off but didn’t seem to have anything to rap about until recently, I can’t help but feel like this is his most complete work yet.
He addresses racism, and the backlash to his refusal to speak out on issues that should be self-evident, on “Manifesto.” And his boasts are now Jay-Z level, not just in construction, but in content, revealing an un-self-conscious swagger that doesn’t aim to shock in its bluntness anymore. He’s just getting these bars off, feeling himself, and dismissing — not reacting to, truly dismissing — the lame criticisms his detractors fling at him “from your lunch break,” as he says on the provocatively-titled “Massa.”
Don’t even get me started on the production, which has finally achieved the ideal balance between his cacophonous, Neptunes-inspired percussion parties and the soulful wit of Igor’s most groovy moments. If there’s anything to be disappointed by, it’s that he soils the smooth H-Town sample on “Wusyaname” with an irksome verse from Youngboy Never Broke Again, who does the track justice but brings his abusive baggage to what should be another triumphant, bridging-the-gaps moment of cross-generational synergy. Tyler’s now the wise vet, passing the torch to hungry young upstarts like 42 Dugg that he was once semi-denied.
And he’s hanging, lyrically, socially, and financially with influences like Pharrell and Lil Wayne, bringing out their best because they need to keep him up with him. He even offers an olive branch to fans of his melodic material with “I Thought You Wanted To Dance,” which should appease the flower children who might well be bewildered by all this gruff tough talk. But it’s only an intermission in the rhythmic proceedings, offering a glimpse at a more well-rounded artist and letting us know this is only one of the tricks from his bag. That said, as much as you have to appreciate just how roomy and densely-packed that bag is, Tyler’s still left plenty of room for some good, old-fashioned, rhythm-and-rhymes-first-foremost-and-forever, “I’m the shit and I know it, now let me explain why”-style rap. Thank you, Westside Gunn.
Call Me If You Get Lost is out now on Columbia. Get it here.
Fans who tuned into Tyler The Creator’s new album Call Me If You Get Lost may have noticed that, as opposed to the more tender sentiments expressed on his last two collections, this project featured much more materialistic subject matter than usual (I consider this a good thing). According to TMZ, this newfound ballerific intent isn’t just confined to the lyrics on the new album, as Tyler’s new chain based on his nickname from the album set him back half a million dollars.
It’s a tiny, multicolored bellhop — yes, Tyler chooses to have people call him one of those hotel guys who carry your bags, which… actually makes sense, considering how much he loves bags — covered in yellow, pink, red, and green gems, including diamonds and sapphires. Per TMZ, it contains 23,515 hand-set stones comprising 186 carats in diamonds and 60 carats in sapphires, while the little suitcases actually open and close. It was designed by jeweler Alex Moss, with whom Tyler worked on the piece for around seven months. The idea was sparked then, with around four of those months dedicated to actually acquiring the stones (I would love to see a movie about this, a la Uncut Gems).
N.I.P. TSkrap
