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Blogger Big Ghost (not the real Ghostface Killah) has returned to leave your favorite rappers ego hanging from the power lines like a pair of old Converse.

Is Drake’s Hometown To Blame?

After his hilarious write-ups of Watch The Throne and Tha Carter IV left readers crying over their keyboards in laughter, Aubrey Graham becomes his latest victim in the review of Take Care.

“As summa yalls already kno…the god aint really no big  fan of the n*gga whose album I’m bout to discuss nahmean,” he begins. “But Imma give this sh*t a unbiased real ass n*gga perspective yo.”

What makes his reviews so great is that they aren’t just funny, they are actually insightful and show that he really pays attention to the artists he rips to shreds. And his Ghostface impersonation is spot on.

1. Over My Dead Body – A forreal….this sounds like the soundtrack to some Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants type sh*t son. I forget who the broad he got singin the hook on this muthaf*cka is…but i think its Renee Zellweger or some sh*t. I feel like Im inside a Barnes & Noble or a Starbucks b… This joint is more light in the ass than the fushigi gravity balls you see in those infomercials at 3 in the mornin son. But yo…how the first words that this n*gga got the nerve to utter on this muthaf*ckin album gon be “I think I killed errybody in the game last year man”? Pardon me son? Word? You mean the same year that Kanye dropped another classic album in…while yo overrated ass uhhh….DID NOT? That year b? You mean the year when n*ggas predicted you was gon do a milli the first week out n you did 450k instead…n then a few days later Eminem dropped n he did like 750k in HIS first week n kept YOU from gettin back to the top of the charts? The same year that Em n Jigga won all the Grammys YOU was spose to take home? THAT year son? Oh.

2. Shot For Me – I dont even know what to say b. Like forreal…after hearin this sh*t…I wouldnt be surprised if this n*gga could pollinate a flower wit his f*ckin breath son. Im pretty sure that son gets up in the morning n plays his harp for his cats n then slides down the muthaf*ckin banister in his satin man nightie n has a full glass of breast milk before he goes to the studio n hammers out some pooned out sh*t like this b. Sons talkin to a broad thru the whole song on some bitter sh*t n at one point the n*gga even says “The way you walk…thats me. The way you talk…thats me. The way you got your hair up…did you forget? Thats me” Son… Thats you? Aight then… But the boy aint done yet yo…at the end of the joint he proposes a toast. This is how that sh*t go…



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