Nothing like free .mp3s. Remember you used to have to pay like a $1.99 for a casette single – sometimes even $2.50? WTF! This post is worth like $18 dollars or some shit.

Zo! & Tigallo – Take On Me – Phonte from Little Brother covering the A-Ha! Classic.

Sauce Money feat. Busta Rhymes & Jadakiss – Remember Sauce? He used to ghostwrite for Diddy and roll w/ Jay-Z. Whatchu think about this joint?

Raekwon feat. Ghostface Killah (Produced By NECRO) – G Hide – The real treat here is the Necro beat. Nice look from Raekwon.

MC Serch feat. Nas – Back To The Grill (Remix) – What can I say about this one? Classic material.

Justice vs. New Order – Confused Phantom – For my hipster, french dance music loving, tight jean wearing white folk.

Chromeo – Needy Girl (Remix) – I forgot who Remixed this one. But it ain’t half bad. Chromeo don’t lose.

DJ Revolution feat. KRS-One – The DJ – Off the new DJ Revolution album.

Lil’ Dap feat. Guru – Son 4 Reason – Brand new Lil’ Dap!

D’angelo – Unreleased (?uestlove Promo Mix) – Unreleased 7″ inch promo record from ?uestlove of the Roots.

Here are some shots the big bodied Beyonder Braun Burgundy took with his still photography equipment..

I don’t want to crowd the page.. so click READ MORE to see the shots.

P.S. My beard looks glorious in that shot – thanks Beyonder. I owe you a glass of Grand Marnier next gig..

(more…)

I’ve been so fucking busy – I haven’t really had a second to get anything good a gwan.

But since I did edit this video, I guess it’s only right that I can use it as a posting? Fuck.

Go away for a couple weeks and look what you miss: Rick Ross exposed, Q-Tip dumbfounded, swagger jackers under scrutiny and one big ass hip hop concert featuring the most ridiculous roster of stars since ’04 Lakers. Thanks to Sleezy and F-1 JTTS hasn’t skipped a beat since two events–one good, one bad–intervened in my blogging habits. First, the bad: the fucking MacBook, less than 6 months old, stopped working. Not like ‘Error Message 20909′ or some shit; like it won’t turn on. The worst part about that is going to the Apple store and slowly reaching the horrifying realization that I too have bought into the yuppy, hipster techno-snobbery that can come with one of these (admittedly SWEET) devices. The second thing was better: a 10-day trip to Switzerland and Italy which involved lots of eating and drinking and minimal reminders that I have to come back and find a job now.

I thought I’d publish some profound thoughts about life across the pond when I got back but I figure that would probably get a lil rambly, so I’ll narrow it down to the few finer things I learned instead, as I catch up and respond to my e-mails and messages from my MySpace bitches.

- The Euro is laying the smash down on the G. Washington and his fellow dead presidents. Rappers should adjust their boasting accordingly.

- I need to learn more languages. The average Swiss person speaks 2.5/3

- Just because you are in Italy doesn’t mean you won’t fall victim to some really bad Italian food if you’re not careful. Also, never ask for a “never-ending pasta bowl” or question why you aren’t receiving unlimited free salad and breadsticks while eating out in Italy.

- There are some FINE ass women and there are some fugly ones that look like they’ve been spit out the bottom of the East German Olympic weight lifting squad. But either way, they don’t use that as an excuse to dress sloppy.

- For what its worth, Europeans know how to make damn good coffee.

- “The Dark Knight” was sick enough to sit through all 2.5 hrs. in dubbed Italian, while understanding no dialogue.

- The Swiss method for making sure cities stay nice and clean: beautify with lots of parks and public spaces, integrate safe and efficient public transport, preserve historical sites and promote free concerts and public events. Then fuck up anybody who steps out of line.

- Be careful who you engage in conversation about soccer. Any misjudged joke or slight might require you to haul ass.

- Exposed titties and ass can make the front page of the biggest newspapers in full blazing color. And how.

- Next time you are hating on France remember this: Air France = free Heiniken and booze in economy. Those are some friendly ass skies.

- Lil Jon is big in Florence.

And a word about hip-hop: I think most of us would agree that it’s global diffusion has been a good, if not great thing for the world. Many rappers will get a bigger reception playing in Europe than in certain U.S. cities, and I can even enjoy some Euro MCs. But unless you enjoy sick fetishes like broomstick sodomy and Tim Allen movies, you don’t ever want to hear a Swiss person rap. Ever.

In the media world, us reporters spend our days dealing with publicists. These publicists, while not all evil, are essentially responsible for getting positive publicity (and spinning negative publicity) for the rich and famous, and those who are aspiring to be rich and famous. No matter if the project is tight to tears or if it’s positively diarrhea, their mission is to sell it through the media.

On said missions, publicists, or “PR people,” as they’re sometimes called, will say, do or fuck anything for their clients. That’s why they can’t be trusted; if you’re getting paid to sell the new Yung Berg record, then you clearly can’t engineer an objective opinion on the topic. I saw a prime example yesterday of a publicity feat so well executed that it duped the folks at CNN. The headline said: “Any Winehouse: Singer Spent Night In Hospital After Adverse Reaction To Medication.”

Intellectuals call this bending of the rules subtlety or nuance, but here on planet hip-hop it’s better known as bullshit. To be fair, though, it takes some creativity to cobble that from the original scenario, which might have read: “Amy Winehouse: Polluted Scumbag Spent Night In Detox After Adverse Reaction To Heroin, Barbiturates, Cocaine, Gorilla Glue, Tranquilizers, Angel Dust and Horse Cum.”

In salute to all the publicists in need of enemas and celebrities in need of rehabilitation, we’ve comprised another one of our soon to be famous lists: Ten Upcoming Bullshit Headlines That We Can’t Wait To See:

10 – Shia LaBeouf: Actor Spends Night In Hospital After Adverse Reaction to Transportation

9 – “Rick Ross Was A Coke-Dealing Prison Guard,” Says Former Miami-Dade Inmate

8 – Imus Calls U.S. Women’s Olympic Basketball Team “Finely Braided Beauties”

7 – Heath Ledger Still Taking Long Nap

6 – Nas Calls Bill O’Reilly A “Not So Nice Person”

5 – DMX Plays Opposites Day With Someone Who Doesn’t Have Outstanding Hospital Bills

4 – Lou Pearlman To Former Boy Band Members: “I Made You…”

3 – Kanye West Thinks He’s Pretty Good Compared With Most Others

2 – George Bush Compliments Barack Obama: “We Could Have Used A Good Man Like Him In My Administration…Maybe As A Waiter On Air Force One”

1 – Amy Winehouse: Not A Raging Degenerate Who Will Be Dead In Six Months

I hate to complain about the greatest hip-hop experience known to man. Actually, I don’t, but here at JTTS we have a rule that writers must begin all posts with clichés. So here goes: as life altering as this year’s Rock the Bells festival was, I’m wicked annoyed by artists’ reluctance to join other artists on stage to kick their own verses from past posse cuts.

At the Boston stop, there were three missed opportunities that especially got my attention. I’m sure there were more, but I was too busy gulping overpriced brews to notice the minutiae of the afternoon. Here go the few we caught:

The grandest insult was Redman’s not emerging to kick his verse on De La Soul’s “Oooh.” He immediately followed them on the bill, so I doubt the problem was that he was not yet in the house, which is what I bet these other dudes would claim if they were lame enough to read this blog.

Q-Tip didn’t join Nas to sing the hook on “One Love.” Those of you who read JTTS religiously are aware that I brought it to Tip’s attention that Nas was wrong on “Got Yourself A Gun” when he alleged, “My first album had no famous guest appearances.” Maybe they had a big falling out backstage as a result and as a result decided not to make “One Love” happen. My bad.

On a side note, Pete Rock did join Nas on stage for “The World Is Yours,” which the Chocolate Boy Wonder produced back in the day. He didn’t really do anything – he kind of just walked out and walked backstage – but it was sweet nonetheless.

Most disappointingly, Nas didn’t rock “Verbal Intercourse” with Raekwon and Ghostface. Worse yet, they did his verse for him. Dope as their set was, this would have put things over the top, but I’m sure Nas was extremely busy at the time.

This all conjures a question that I negotiate every time a rapper neglects to call me when his or her publicist sets something up, or when a publicist for some reason can’t manage to arrange an interview with two or three weeks notice: What the fuck is a rapper doing that he’s too busy for a ten-minute phone interview? I’ve hung out with you motherfuckers – I know that all you do is smoke blunts and play video games all day long.

I understand that disdain for fans is as much a part of hip-hop’s fabric as the Philly Blunt logo, but it’s time for MCs to take a bit more pride in how much fanatics like me worship their every last rhyme. Especially in scenarios like this, when the posse cuts at hand were done before the orgy era in which even rappers who have beef with one another engage in gratuitous verbal intercourse. Respect.

A JTTS Medical Investigation

By DJ Knife

JTTS – Pediatric Jackologists from the Boston School Of Medicine announced today that Swagger Jacking is considered a mentally transmitted disease. After months of scientific study, research has determined the debilitating syndrome “Swaggerjackinitis” is commonly found in males between the ages of 12 and 40 and passed from one infected host to another. A total of 651 patients accused of stealing aspects of another male’s personality were tested over a six-month period at Jordan’s Furniture Sleep Lab in Reading, Mass. During this time, test subjects were observed using the terms “Real Talk” and “No Homo” in copious amounts.

408 standard-risk patients were discovered to have  a standard form of Swaggerjackinits, with a median age of 16 to 30 years of age. The patients often were infected with the disease after watching urban television programming or receiving an infected slim case CD from peddling merchants in the Downtown Crossing area of Boston. 243 high-risk patients suffered an accelerated form of Swaggerjackinitis which lead to severe forms of impersonation. 15% of high-risk patients also developed a condition known as “Aggravated Hating,” most recently discovered by Dr. Este Uno of the East Boston Institute Of Psychology.

The disease surprisingly has been discovered in all races of young men and cases of Swaggerjackinitis have been documented from Quincy MA to Tokyo Japan in recent months. The overall survival rate for patients with Swaggerkackinitis is less than 50%. Relapse was the most common cause of treatment failure, occurring in 217 of the 651 patients (33.3%). There is no cure for Swaggerjackinitis. The only treatment is to remove the male from all forms of media stimulation, lyrical word-play, people who “spit flames,” the mall and any other jack-worthy social environment.

“Nomar” vs. “No War” On Green St.

Backstage, waving like a homo next to various groupies.

Filming Trugoy from De La Soul w/ The Super Rockin’ DJ ON+ON

We are now officially a hip hop blog – JumpTheTurnStyle’s First Ever Jay Electronica reference.

Van$tylez takes his shirt off in front of Redman, Redman leaves in utter disgust.

Faded

I used to be a big fan of voyeurism. You know – kinda like that peeping tom shit.

Now, I’m not talking on some hide in the bushes jerking off in a trench coat with a rope around my neck type of peeping tom shit. You know, I kept it real casual like. Basically on some, not minding my own business type of peeping – looking into a lit window as I walk by. I never had binoculars or nothing like that but.. well.. hey it’s Sleezy Trees here – natural born scumbag. Now before you label me a weirdo or a creep (I was both btw), please notice I said “used to“. I’m completely reformed. Let me explain.

It all started 4 years ago when me and the ex-girl moved up to Boston. We had settled in this large apt. complex and all the windows faced out into this large courtyard type area. Now – I was on the bottom floor, and my kitchen window faced diagonally into a neighbor’s bedroom. I had no idea who the neighbor was, didn’t care, and didn’t even make any attempt to find out. One evening, after living there for about a month, I was in the kitchen washing my dishes and I happened to glance out the window real quick – I didn’t know that what I saw then would change my life forever…

It was early evening, probably dusk. Outside my kitchen window I saw that the apartment next to me had the shades up, and the light on. Being that it was getting dark and the room was fully lit I could see directly into this window, – this tear in the space/time continuum which was apparently peering directly into imaginationland. I was looking right into the core of my own sexual fantasies, as if my mind was producing the absolute most awesome thing I could ever even dream of seeing. But it was real.

In the window of the apartment directly next to me was a smoking hot, young, blonde Russian girl undressing from her shift, presumably as a bartender. My eyes literally froze in my skull and locked on to her figure with the precision of an F-16 Tomahawk Missle targeting an Al-Qaeda weapons bunker. Never in my life would I have ever imagined that I would have such luck. My ex-girlfriend (who was a raging cunt anyway) was asleep on the couch and I knew that this was an opportunity that could possibly never present itself ever again.

I dimmed the lights in the kitchen, drew the blinds, pulled up a chair next to the window to stand on, (so I would have a better view at the scene) and I just watched in absolute steadfast awe, this perfect blonde russian nymph seductively discard her daily attire piece by piece. First she let her hair down, then her glasses came off, when I saw her going for the buttons of her blouse my heart was racing like I had completed the Boston Marathon. I rubbed my eyes to ensure that what I was seeing was real. This girl was perfect. A 10 easy. Then the pants. “Holy shit”- I thought, “I’m staring at my smoking hot neighbor like a pervert”, but I knew I couldn’t stop. I was locked in. If anyone can tell me they wouldn’t do the exact same thing in this situation – I would say they are a fucking liar or a fucking homo.

So there I was staring through the slits of a Venetian blind, heart exploding in my chest – and this Russian girl is going about her business in her little lace bra and panties – no idea in the world. Folding laundry, typing on her laptop, etc. etc. After about five minutes I thought – Ok, I can’t take it anymore, I have to look away, because I knew that even after what I just saw, I would be picturing this girl for the rest of my life. I made a move to get down from my chair and thought to myself, “one last fucking peep”,  but then, like Jesus Christ or Aladdin’s Genie or Gandalf had waved a fucking magic wand – something happened so unbelievable that I new right then and there, I would have to record this story someday for future generations to behold it’s awesomeness.

In walks another girl – just as smoking hot. Fully dressed. A brunette.

To Be Continued..

Apparently Idaho Senator Larry Craig agrees with my latest Sleezy Of The Week. WTF x 5000!!

To see the post: click here

I spent most of yesterday sitting around my crib waiting for Nas to call. That’s right – Nas was supposed to call me – not to set up lunch or our next golf outing, but to give me an interview for the Boston Herald. As outrageous as it sounds, these heavyweights usually come through; in the last two weeks I’ve successfully connected with Busta Rhymes, Q-Tip and Snoop Dogg, so I expected this one to go as smoothly. I’ve been waiting my whole career, if not my entire post-pubescent life, to speak with Nas. He’s the King of New York as far as I’m concerned – always has been and always will be unless Tim Dog plots a comeback.

You know where this is going. After eight hours of sweating at my desk in anticipation, and draining a dozen Bud Lights to curb my anxiety, I finally realized that Nas was not calling. I felt like a kid waiting for his estranged father to show up at his birthday party. It’s all good though; what really sucks is that I had some questions that were exclusively for our readers here at JTTS.

To make it up to you and shed some humor on the situation, I’m blessing heads with this here parody that I wrote to the Nas classic “I Gave You Power.” His song is written from the perspective of a gun; mine is from the point of view of a baloney sandwich. If you have It Was Written on hand, pop it in and refresh your memory before continuing – I promise it will make this funnier. Also – if any of you aspiring MCs want to go ahead and record this over the instrumental, please do so and submit it to FARA1HIPHOP@gmail.com. We’ll post it. Or just enjoy the hell out of this (it was a lot of work), and make sure you forward the link to anyone you know who worships Nas.

I Gave You Cholesterol

I seen some cold cuts and mayonnaise
They grab me off of trays
Call me bologn so I sing this song till this day
My body is whole wheat for real
I was bought on sale, two bucks a pound retail
On the menu don’t mistake me for clubs
Been in the mouth of mad thugs
Kept me in plastic bags just like mad drugs
Six to seven slices, Italian bread
They call me Oscar Meyer, spell it out like a kid
I’m sold in pre-packs, or pounds, buy me in any town
Botswana to Little Neck to Canarsie, many parts in me
Feet, guts and blabber, they eat me up
I watch ‘em all get fatter, peelin’ the crust
But all I feel’s they dirty bladder
All wrapped up I’m beefin’, findin’ myself fiendin’ to be eaten
They see a pastry, owners place me on shelves
In the fridge, so I beg for my next owner to be a thorough pig
Who eats boloney till he’s sick

Do you want some grub
How ‘bout a sub
Not a fancy turkey club
Get you higher than a drug
Make you get a tummy tug
Smoke a nug, or sleep on a rug
I’m fried baloney, hundred percent animal butt

Always I’m made of lips, some abdomens and a tit
Flesh of a dick, not Kosherized
Pull my skin back and chop me, I’m cheaper than even chop meat
Japanese people eat me with saki
I see people who say I’m made of ears, avoid me for years
And then eat a hot dog with they friends over some beers
I’ve been used at eateries, makin’ people fart because of me
Sold on deli trays, at family picnics I was the rave
I was placed on a shelf, with dijonaise
Met a cliché sandwich with letters on his bag that say
Q-U-I-Z-N-and-O
Panini trio, knowin’ one day he’d be replaced
By a chain store, a corporation sellin’ heads of a boar
Tired of bein’ lard, made him wish he was a hot dog
But you I had some other ham, so the next time the beef is on
I become a sandwich in my owner’s hand

Yo, weeks went by and I’m not fried
Still stuck in the fridge with all the things that a butcher hides
Besides me is Gouda, olive loaf, expired swine
There’s donkey balls in a box, and a smoked turkey rind
Cause he ain’t been carved in a month, he’s moldy and skunked
He’s ‘bout to get thrown out with all the trash and the junk
Yo I can hear somebody slicin’ up, open the fridge
His mouth waterin’, he grabbed the Dijon
It seemed he wanted to go get bakin’
He started slappin’ on the Land-o-Lakin’
Break out the salt and get the spices shakin’
My creation was to make your ass fat
Cold cuts like me fill up your arteries,
But this time it’s done refreshingly,
He licked his fingers, felt his fat
And ate me like some gourmet deli meat,
He pulled the trigger but I held on, it felt wrong
Bulimia’s making his belt worn
He gagged harder, sick of the lunch, sick of the fudge,
That made his backside larger than the next man’s butt
What the other kid did was pull out, no doubt
A Weight Watchers pork roll before he ate out, covered in cheese
My owner came on the floor, his diet split so fast
I didn’t see his man tits, and little dick
Heard Glad bags zippin’, lunch comin’, fluffernuttin,
Now I’m excited until I heard somebody else bite it.
Ham.