If you find a bag of weed on the floor motherfucker — What the fuck you gonna do? Pick it up, pick it up…

I have been a neglectful neglecter and if this blog were a child, Child Protective Services would have investigated long ago. If you really want to know why I have been absent from here, read my personal blog … though I have neglected that blog also. I am sure an update will be there at some point.

Anyways, I want to mention the Method Man and Redman show I saw on April 23. Yes, that was almost a month ago

I need to get this down before the memory wanes.

I had trouble getting anyone to go at first, but finally got a hold of a friend through a friend who was ecstatic to accompany me. We stuck out like a sore thumb, but had the time of our lives.

The iconic duo mustered up every sinew and spick of spit to prove their worth. They worked the crowd like no other performance I had ever seen. There is no need no to hustle on the streets when they can hustle a crowd like they did.

“We aren’t only rappers, we’re also M.C.s,” Method Man said.

It could have easily turned out different with the mixed crowd of half-interested college students and “wanna-be ghetto, but really just Gainesville hick” citizens. Not many people filled the stadium, which suprised me since it was a free show. That did not end up mattering though.

As soon as they stepped on the stage, the energy was stepped up. I actually saw someone yawn during the opening acts, but mouths were only open in shouts of “Wu Tang” once Method and Red layed out their master plan.

Method jumped down into the crowd and prowled around on the chairs as he rapped the first song.

The two danced on the speaker systems, humping the air and pursing their lips. Redman did his quirky indian chop with a fist and discoed to the beat. They sprayed water bottles into the crowd, which seems like a cheap effect, but worked perfectly.

At one point, they demanded the crowd stop sitting in their designated seats and come up to the stage. The mob rushed to the front, pushing through police and security. The hands were up and waving.

They did everything from Wu Tang classics to originals from their classic stoner movie, “How High.”

It was too bad my friend and I were stuck on the side bleachers and could not bum rush the stage like everyone else. Luckily, Redman decided to come to us. He jumped the stage and climbed up the bleachers. We stood right by him and did awkward white dances with the small crowd. He fell into me to be hoisted up: a sweaty rapper falling on a weak college kid does not work out that well. We finally got him in the air and he crowd surfed off the bleachers.

“Redman fell on me!” I believe were my exact words to my girlfriend after leaving the show.

They threw leftover water bottles at the end and my friend ended up getting one. We called it “Wu Tang” water and drank it while walking home.

I heard last time Method man and Redman came to Gainesville a riot or something started. But that is just hearsay that I do not feel like researching or ruining. I can see them starting a riot.

I have gained tremendous respect for the duo. They are funny, entertaining and can rap like fuck. The whole reason I went to the show (besides the cheap price of free) was because I love Wu Tang clan and wanted to see a fraction of it through Method Man. I left with a million other reasons to have gone.

Cream of the Crop: Who can Spit it best, who can show the rest; throwing it down, boasting king of the hiphop crown?

Many rappers claim that they are kings of the hip-hop genre, boasting how they spit the sickest rhymes and flow smoothest through time.

Self-promotion is a large part the hiphop world.

Rappers from Lupe Fiasco (“I go by the name of Lupe Fiasco”) to Ludacris (“Luda!”) to Bubba Sparxx (“Okey-dokey, dis dat Bubba talk”) all throw down a plethora of verses in their songs based solely on their name or sometimes … how to spell their name.

“It’s the D, the I, the D, the D, the Y. It’s Diddy (hold up). It’s Diddy (That’s crazy).”

Yes, his name is Diddy.

However boastful an individual may be, there are clearly those that are king of the game and those that are full of hot air. It’s the difference between Scott Stapp and Justin Timberlake. Although in that off-topic example, one can claim both are full of hot air. Yet, there is a clear winner (and it’s not the man with his “eyes wide open”). Yes, a clear winner, unlike the Democratic Super Tuesday primary race going on right now.

Here are a few rappers I don’t think are full of shit. Bow down to your lyrical superiors.

1. Nas — His music is not the type of background noise party-goers love to grind to, but that is why he is so great. The release of Nas’ album, “Hip-hop is Dead” evoked an array of responses. Maybe hip-hop is not dead, but Nas was making a bold statement: stop super-manning that hoe and get into some rap with a message. If you do, it is well worth it.

2. Big Boi — Although I like Andre 3000 more as an artist, Big Boi wins hands down as the lyrical genius of the duo. His response to their split album (i.e. two solo albums packaged under the Outkast name) was eloquently phrased, “Outkast, cell therapy to cell division. We just split it down the middle so you can see both the visions.” His ability to shift rhythm and speed is incredible. One of my favorite lines by him also comes from their latest album: “And judges, just to hold grudges in a courtroom. I want to see your support bra not support you.” A masterpiece of comparison.

3. Tupac — Often more of a poet then rapper. A West coast/East coast feud, only fueled the lyrical skills. Biggie Smalls was amazing at being a gangsta, and had some smooth lines, but he was not near as eloquent and heartfelt as Tupac.

4. Bob Dylan — He was a rapper right? “Subterranean Homesick Blues” is definitely rap, and a good one at that. “Johnny’s in the basement mixing up the medicine. I’m on the pavement thinking about the government.” He even did a more traditional style of rap on an 80s track with Kurtis Blow (although this example is not the best of Dylan’s abilities).

5. Grand Master Flash — One of the pioneers of socially conscious rap. His infectious hooks are classic. “It’s like a jungle out there, it makes wonder how I keep from going under.”– enough said.

6. Anyone from th Wu Tang Clan — And I mean anyone. If I broke them up they would fill too many spots on the list.

7. Sage Francis — Amazing free stylist. I like the grate in his voice, like a white DMX meets Dave Attell, that host from the show “Insomniac”.

8. The Fugees — Wyclef is my favorite although Lauren Hill and the “other guy” (Pras) are great too. A recent viewing of Wyclef’s free style on BET’s “Rap city” solidified my respect for him. More as a whole though, the group was talented, conscious and daring.

9. Bradley Nowel — As the main lyricist of Sublime, he was a master at combining elements of punk, hip-hop, dub and reggae into infectious songs that speak to the soul. “…take hip-hop to a higher ground. And I know how.” An unconventional rap master.

I Did not list too many fun rappers like Biz Markie and Three-6 Mafia. I also Missed some respectable artists like Public Enemy, but will catch them next time. Or maybe next time the list will be of the worst rappers ever. God knows there is enough of them.