(01.09.06)

So today I read this on XXLmag.com ...

My problem is not with backpack rappers. My problem is with hardcore backpack rap fans.

Those dudes kill me. They have to be the most self-righteous Stans under the sun. Let me run down the profile.

You can find these hotheads in the record store copping a holier-than-thou attitude, spitting obscure hip-hop trivia with an almost religious fervor. They are the ones you see in the back of the club, glaring when the DJ drops a 50 joint.

These knuckle-shufflers harbor an obscene amount of nostalgia for a golden era that they were never a part of, and a baffling level of resentment for all that is gangsta and/or flashy and fly. They despise the music industry, without ever having had any contact with it. They romanticize poverty, worship political rappers (who, truth be told, often don't want these guys as fans in the first place), and demonize any artist that doesn't fit into their rigid definition of "real hip-hop." They deliberately ignore anything that calls their limited conception of "real hip-hop" into question. (The Jay-Z/dead prez collabo "Hell