The inclusion of some Rawkus-era teasers like "Mayor" and "WWIII" would have been a nice touch, but considering Monch's until recent label hassles, having a full-length from one of the most overlooked MC's of all-time was something to be treasured. And I bet you can't find one head these days who will talk shit about "Simon Says" (a modern-day anthem among hip-hop fans those like me who talked shit ended up eating our hats). Lady Luck, Redman, Method Man, Shabaam Sahdeeq & Busta Rhymes) Pharoahe Monch - Y'all Know The Name (Mixtape) (2002) Calidad : 320 kbps. Whether waxing battle rhymes that never meander into cliché ("Behind Closed Doors," "The Next Shit") or crafting some bleak and gut-churning visuals ("Hell" and the disturbingly brilliant "Rape"), Monch crafts an album that's as varied sonically and lyrically as all the most treasured hip-hop classics. Simon Says Remix pharoahe monch Get the fuck up Simon says get the fuck up Throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck) Queens is in the back.
Regardless of whether or not the production was a little more club-ready (for the time anyway nowadays, this record sounds positively heavy and hard compared to what the industry churns out at present), Monch ravages the microphone with a vigor and creativity even the best MC's are probably bitterly envious of. It's a shame the arrogant "indie or die" mentality was mucking the atmosphere of the hip-hop underground since the cold shoulder from fickle backpackers probably did as much damage to the reception of this album as did Rawkus' regrettable spiral into irrelevance (Industry Rule #4080 at work, kids!). Could our personal favorite MC Pharoahe Monch really be making mindless club jams like "Simon Says" and "Right Here"? How dare he! But after becoming older, wiser, and haggard by every self-conscious "true-school" snoozefest or god-awful Anticon platter of pseudo-experimentalism being pressed in the underground, Internal Affairs has held up MUCH better than every little snobby shit like me made it out to be at the time. At the time of its release, Internal Affairs leaned too much towards (gasp!) club tastes for the indie hip-hop heads (Rawkus Records' bread and butter) inflicted with the humorless purism that was running rampant in the underground. Get the fuck up, Simon says get the fuck up Throw your hands in the sky Queens is in the back sippin' Yak y'all what's up Girls, rub on your titties Yeah, I said it, rub on your titties New York City gritty committee, pity the fool that Act shitty in the midst of the calm, the witty Y'all know the name Pharoahe-fuckin'-Monch, ain't a damn thang changed You all up in the Range, then your shit.
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