Bleubird

This mother fucker Bleubird is not only embracing his roots, after a career spent in a van on the road pointed any direction not towards home, he's pulling Fort Lauderdale's panties down and spanking the shit out of her. 

I first came to love Bleubird for his travel musings, his eclectic list of collabs, and ultimately his skill on the mic. Bleubird has always been in his own lane. And now it's the fast lane on the 95 pointed SOUFF as FUHHHCK, tho! 

This new record, Lauderdale, out on Fake Four, Inc., isn't anything like what I'd come to know as the Bleubird sound. I'm sure trading in the hallmark sentiments and tortured road poet for tropical button ups and bitches in the pool sounds pretty dope to a lot of people. And I can see why. But I was more skeptical. Wondering why. Questioning motives. Curious, but also so used to viscerally avoiding low brow elements of rap music that I didn't get it. 

Bleubird's latest visual, "Keith Haringbone," finally put it all in perspective for me. Bluebird isn't trying to be anything he's not. He's gone back to what made him him to begin with. And paying homage to that Miami Bass, Florida bounce, and 2 Live Crew shit that made America's geographical penis the place to be for parental advisory stickers. I remember bumping it too when I was a kid, hiding those tapes from our parents. This is Bleubird's way of saying, "not only did I know about that kind of music growing up, that kind of music made me, not only the rapper I am today, but a rapper, period. And I owe it to myself and being true to where I'm from to do that shit and do it right." 

And there ain't anything wrong with that!  

Bounce wit meh...