Eazy-E – Gangsta Beat 4 Tha Street

So you’ve got the Game running around, transplanted by 50’s botched experiment, stressing his West Coast credentials all over the mixtapes & albums proper. For him, that means namedropping Eazy-E a great deal, which makes sense; of the other MCs in NWA, Dre’s out (too close to Fiddy, Cube wrote his lyrics), Ren’s dreadful, and Cube came from the middle class. That leaves Eric Wright.

But he may be the best choice after all! I know autumn’s nigh, but hear this irresistibly summery track. It’s from the last LP Eazy released before succumbing to AIDS; in fact, it’s the last track on it featuring his voice. And this is how he goes out: driving around with his friends, pumping the latest from Atlanta, heading to Six Flags. Six Flags!

The track rolls along gracefully, the West Coast whipcracks pared to a lazy thwok, backed with some stinging double-stop (maybe?) guitar. Because this is hip-hop, and the male parties involved herein have reputations to pre-emptively defend, there’s a lady moaning all over the place. Still better than the Beasties’ “High Plains Drifter”. An outdoor ambience tops everything off.

Each personality takes their day off differently: Gangsta Dresta leads things off with a classic West Coast (read: Ice Cube-cribbed) delivery; he’s smoking a Thai stick, heading for Magic Mountain. When I first heard this, I assumed the Mountain was a strip club; imagine my wonder when I learned he was talking about rollercoasters and commemorative Looney Tunes cups. Sylk takes things over; she’s more about fending off female rivals and recording each line separately cos she has no breath control. Something is said about “ménage a trois,” I’m not sure how that fits, but no matter. When she starts her staccato splatter, I get chills. No lie.

B.G. KnoccOut is next up. His is definitely the most rigidly gangsta verse, but he wins Best Feminine Rhyme with “I love to hear it pumpin’ in my lo-lo/Hittin’ my switches and runnin’ the bitches and now I must see mo ho’s”. Plus he rocks the sartorial, emphasizing “proper shorts and a proper shirt”. We’re three for three here.

Finally, Mr. Wright himself, whose extensive charity donations earned him an invitation to the H. W. Bush White House (Game got his facts wrong in “Dreams” for the sake of a nice rhyme). His verse is a model of brevity, rocking the penultimate syllables, delivered in his strident, adolescent tone:

I got beat for the street
To the beach I’ll be rolling
Never see me strolling
40’s I’ll be holding
Girls in the Daisies
Drive Eazy crazy
Rolled up my windows
As I turned on my AC
Rollin’ down Crenshaw
See the hoes jockin’
Sunday nights poppin’
See the foes hoppin’
My stereo’s bumpin’
That A-T-L funk
You can call it what you want
Either way the shit bumps
(Damn right!)

That’s how Eazy goes out: prescient big-ups to the Dirty South. Then he drops one of the cutest (and therefore, one of the most heartfelt) choruses in gangsta rap:

Bein’ a gangsta is so neat (Yeah!)
Gangsta beat 4 the street

I realize that this may seem like a tenuous nomination for our hallowed Seconds category, but this thing’s too fun, and it’s begging to be released in its native environment. Try it out in a vehicle near you, gas be damned. On behalf of Jayceon’s credibility, I thank you.

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