The man, the legend, the convict
Everyone learns about a musician in different ways. Some of us hear a particular artist on the radio and then illegally download their entire musical catalogue, while others are introduced to a musician or band by friends before engaging in the sort of internet piracy that is (apparently) destroying our beloved country. DMX is one of those rare stars, those shimmering beacons of celestial talent, that is more likely to be on the Channel 5 news at 11:00 than MTV. Unlike other shocking acts (like the opiate of the wigger masses, Insane Clown Posse), DMX actually backs up his bat-shit insanity with some ability-- according to the Wikipedia article that we are more or less plagiarising, he has sold over 28 million albums. How do we know this is accurate? Because anyone who disagrees with us doesn't have the typing speed to thwart our wiki-editing skills.
Supposedly Mr. X (Mr. D? Mr. MX?) started his career to escape from the harsh realities of being a huge black guy, and also as a chance to cause even more havoc with the money from his album sales. Because, trust us, nothing buys more blow than 28 million records sold...except of course maybe 29 million records sold. Regardless, D-to-the-M-to-the-X (or Earl, as we like to call him) has probably snorted more free blow off of a dead hooker's ass than you will ever be able to afford if you neglected food, shelter, and hentai and spent our entire paycheck for the rest of your life on yay.
As a younger, (perhaps) less-angry black man, D-mizzle-X-izzle was diagnosed with the dreaded bipolar disorder, which, while it is a real affliction that countless wacked-out crazies unfortunately suffer from each year, is also a really good excuse to take the Gary Busey train to Bat Country. His name reflects this "subtle" brooding behind his image (and also a secret love of comic books), since DMX stands for "Dark Man X". That's right, you heard it here first- DMX is a goddamn superhero. But a gritty one, like the Punisher. Not some whiney cunt like Superman.
DMX is so bat-shit, Freon-drinking crazy that God didn't want him. That's right- God...the biggest G the'e is. Rumour has it (and by rumour we mean Wikipedia) that DMX was trying to retire to break into the gospel/preaching racket, when he was told that he should wait for God to make perfectly clear that preaching is his calling. Religion couldn't even save this crazy bastard, so what hope do the rest of us have?
He also has an extensive criminal record (which by now only the mouthbreathing readers wouldn't have figured out) which includes such gems as animal cruelty, reckless driving, cocaine possession, marijuana possession, identity falsification, criminal impersonation, criminal possession of a weapon, criminal mischief, menacing (whatever the fuck that is), drunk driving, claiming to be a federal agent, car jacking, and (sweet Jesus!) driving without a license. While most of us call that a rap sheet, DMasterX calls that a Friday night.
No wonder that he implores God to "give [him] a sign" and that since the last time they talked "the walk has been hard". If we were jacked up on every drug we could find while speeding down the road pretending to be a fed while torturing animals, we would find walking to be less than exciting, too.
There is more to the beast than simply his antics, however, dear readers, and you would do well to remember it. Whereas the random word (What! Ye-ah!) shouted in rap music or a shout-out here or there is nothing groundbreaking, DMX has taken it and transformed it into an artform. Now, you might be wondering why Robin Hood's esteemed bear friend Little John doesn't receive this title, and that would be because you should have gotten off your lazy dissenting ass and written this damn article yourself if you wanted to write about your rapper, you dirty bastard.
For instance, in the first minute and 45 seconds of his song about grammar, "Who We Be", Mistah DMX shouts random shit in the background a whopping 42 times...and the song is 4:25 seconds. We just couldn't keep going. This doesn't even include the incessant "duhDuhduhDuhduhDuh" that is heard during the chorus of the song as DMX, one must imagine, tries to sort through the powder and bong resin clogging his brain to remember what a time signature is.
Similarly, in the three and a half minute "Lord Give Me a Sign", Dr. MX manages to verbally ejaculate upwards of 50 times.
And let's face it, the intrigue of his music doesn't just derive from his love of random words, there is more operating under the surface. There is, firstly, the voice that could only be caused by years of screaming at ho's while smoking phat blunts, his intimidating personality, or his just-plain-scary song lyrics, which will inform the careful listener that if "Niggaz wanna lie" then said niggaz will subsequently "die", or that "bitches talkin paper, then how they wanna rape us". That's right-- not only did he rhyme "papers" with "rape us", but he throws that seemingly random fact out just to keep you off guard-- DMX doesn't want you getting comfortable.
So, the next time you are leaving the afterwork bar after a long day in the IT department and a beer or two with your fellow pencil-pushers and you get in the car to blast some of those mad beats that make you feel so gangsta, son, remember that DMX's actual life makes a rap video look like a day in the life of Jebediah P. Quaker.