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Jay-Z: all strings attached

By Shaun Shearer | 25 January 2011

OK, nobody is beyond reproach when it comes to a Hoof, and Hova/ Jigga/ S Dot/ whatever you choose to call yourself this week, your time has come. You've had it too good for too long, son, and if Puff can get it in the face for being a soulless money-grabbing c*nt, and Kanye for being an arrogant self-obsessed fool, then there's more than enough justification for you to find yourself in these hallowed pages.

It all started promisingly enough, with 'Reasonable Doubt' rightly hailed as one of the strongest debuts in the hip hop game and one of the classic albums of the 90s. It had lyrical integrity, too. But it didn't take long for the ego to kick in, (albeit manipulated by shady hidden forces, no doubt.) Before Biggie's body was even cold you were hailing yourself as the new King of New York, and the torch-bearer for hip hop generally. Very convenient to your rise that ol' Big was out of the way.

Album after album followed. To be fair, a lot of the content was hot, and you displayed a penchant for witty wordplay. More importantly from a success point of view were the commercial power moves. We should have realised more at the time. The Control System already had you. A big clue was the fact that you and Dame chose to call your label Roc A Fella Records. Most consumers didn't even know about the Rockefeller banking dynasty, one of the leading Illuminati bloodline families whose horrific activities in everything from funding the Nazis in World War 2 to manipulating the global banking crash is only just starting to come to light in line with the mass awakening in human consciousness. Nice people. Who'd have thought goofy little Shaun Carter who used to tap out rhythms on his mother's kitchen table back in Marcy Projects would make it so far?

Then, as early as 2003, came the announcement that you were 'retiring' from the game. How us gullible saps fell for that one. It was about as genuine as Obama, (ie his pre-prepared Rahm Emanuel-written teleprompter) stating in his pre-election pledge that he was 'anti-war'. Yeah, right. All these years later and you're still spitting bars. Only they get less hot with every passing month.

The Beyonce jump-off seemed great at the start, but you've now just become the tedious Posh & Becks of the urban music world, and it's looking extremely likely that that, along with just about every other aspect of your career, that was conveniently orchestrated by the Hidden Hand, too. We'll probably discover that y'all are 13th cousins twice removed as well, just like William and Kate.

The ultimate sell-out, and elimination of any rights to retain ghetto credentials, came with the 'presidency' at Def Jam. Though I don't think anyone fell for the idea that you were anything other than a corporate puppet by this point, merely providing a 'cool' front while the real suits made all the decisions. The signing of Rihanna, for instance, the ultimate wind-her-up, tell-her-what-to-sing, count-the-money mind-control stooge.

The signings continued - now to Roc Nation - and with the recent news of X Factor saddo and moron-idol Cher Lloyd joining the roster. Whatever shreds of credibility your name might have been clinging to were dispersed in one move by that point.

Where once stood a talented and seemingly visionary artist, there now stands a worn-out corporate gopher, dancing on strings to whatever tune his Zionist bosses choose to play, jigging around in front of Satanic and Masonic images in videos with no regard for the part it plays in advancing the New World Order agenda, focusing only on the massive piles of cash being waved hypnotically by his must-be-obeyed Paymasters.

Let's be honest. Jay-Z's sell-by date is long overdue. Even as corporate stooges go.

On to the next one.





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