I Don’t Like Em
E-40
By Natalie Silver
I knew as soon as I prophesied the reality we both wanted—to kick this Tel Aviv cafe into the next gear—through a game of Odds, it was game over. I knew that because she chose one in three; because deep down she wanted to do it.
“One, two, three...TWO,” and smiling in defeat, Becca walked up to the young Israeli barista who had been playing Old Kanye, 21 Savage, and 2Pac deep tracks for the past 45 minutes which totally didn’t fit the mood of the quaint outdoor coffee bar he was manning. “You have great taste in music,” she said to him as she held out her phone with an open Spotify track at the ready, “but are you down with the Hyphy Movement?”
I grimaced as he swatted away her hand, at first thinking that we had offended the poor dude—but then Kanye’s “Spaceship” was cut short and “Tell Me When To Go” surged in, daring this happy hour to start rocking.
As I watched the crowd’s reaction, my synapses were exploding in utter amazement. How can E-40—the artist whose music unfailingly turns up the Cal football locker room and makes every Spring Ball playlist (trust me, I worked there for a year), the guy who is a de facto God in the eyes of every Warriors fan, and the face that can be seen repped through art and fashion on Telegraph Ave every First Friday—also apparently be capable of having middle-aged Israeli women dancing in their chairs while drinking espresso and smoking cigarettes?
My dude behind the bar nodded at us, and called out in broken English that E-40’s new album, Practice Makes Paper, would be coming out at the end of the month.
When late July came around and I skimmed the titles, I correctly predicted that my sleeper favorite would be “I Don’t Like Em,” a phrase that I happen to use a lot, particularly when someone mentions fraternities, White Claw, people who drink White Claw, or many of my former housemates. I knew this song would would yield the most relatable content of all time in the rapper’s iconic, matter-of-fact diction. I was right.
The song sounds exactly how it reads. It’s a harsh intolerance to phoniness, cowardice, selfishness, lies—you know, absolute fucking bullshit. It’s a perfect example of E-40’s trademark of geniusly turning blunt truths into both musical, comic and hyphy GOLD.
Maybe it’s dramatic to say there’s a little hyphy dormant in all of us—that it’s a predestined characteristic encoded into human DNA—but I will stand by it.
Is it too much to call hyphy the Great Equalizer?
Nope.
Does it transcend cultural, lingual and geographic differences within the human experience?
Yup.
Must I go on?