For the most part, the hegemony of Western civilization hinges on two things: glorifying the legacy of white people, and letting white people make acoustic covers of rap songs. With that in mind, meet the internet’s three (Five? Seven? I can’t tell because they all look the same to me) newest conquistadors, Gentleman’s Rule. These cultural terrorists have blessed us with the aural equivalent of smallpox, which is an a cappella cover of Fetty Wap’s “Trap Queen.” Not only is a cappella the lamest fucking thing you can do as a human being, but moreover, like their European ancestors before them (and Elvis), Gentleman’s Rule have taken a beautiful thing and sapped it of everything that makes it good and pure in the name of resource exploitation, the resource here being YouTube views. How did gringos from Chicago manage to do this with such scientific precision? Let’s count the ways:
The saccharine, heartwarming brilliance of Fetty’s “hey wassup hello” is immediately ruined by the way Gentleman number one sings the lyrics like a high school math teacher who moonlights as the drama club director. It’s not as though enunciating in rap is automatically bad or anything; E-40 could read the nutrition facts off a cereal box in his Super Saiyan nerd voice and still sound like a fucking boss. Yet, when you hear someone say “married to the money/ introduced it to my stove” the way Martha Stewart would on the Home & Garden Network, something doesn’t click, you know? If hearing every single consonant of “Trap Queen” articulated in excruciating detail doesn’t make you queasy, the mic guards covered in spittle will.
You can’t wear an Old Navy v-neck or a Georgetown t-shirt and say the words “trap queen.” I checked the Geneva Convention, and this is actually a war crime.
LACK OF SWAG IN GENERAL
Listen guys, I understand that you’re in the studio, or “lab,” as it’s colloquially known, but this weird in-between space of singing diva fingers and amateur rap hands that you’ve invented is best saved for when you sing in the shower, or perhaps the vacuum of space. Also under no circumstances is it acceptable to clap in unison to Fetty Wap. This isn’t a bar mitzvah. And another thing—the new verse in the middle manages to take up nearly a minute of the video but is still somehow completely devoid of meaning or passion, like when the Terminator tries to mimic human emotion.
POINTING AT THINGS AND OTHER ODD HAND GESTURE CHOICES
Each Gentleman is guilty of these “moves,” which include the following: running in place, pointing at the other side of the room, almost clapping, doing the thumbs up, the cooking motion (not the cool Lil B cooking motion), general arm wobbling, waving at someone who doesn’t exist, and that move that looks like you’re surprised at yourself as you spike an air basketball.
No, not the other white rapper. I mean the setting of the video. Where is this studio, exactly? From the looks of it, we’re in the middle of the woods in Vermont, which I think is just north of Chicago. Which rich relative’s house is this? Aunt Phyllis? What is with the old car in the woods? I’m sensing a metaphor for the decline of American industry as we move towards a global economy and outsourced labor. Good thing we can still keep cultural exploitation local though!
Every white guy has the same head nod, like a fish that’s hopped out of its fishbowl and is flopping around on the floor as it suffocates, except attached to a human body.
Considering each one of these guys probably have more money in their wallet than I do in my savings account, it’s surprising not one of them can find some hair product that doesn’t look like they rolled out of bed, stuck their thumb up their butt, masturbated, jizzed all over their hands, and then furiously rubbed aforementioned jizz in their hair. A little too much shine here, folks.
Speaking of hair, the Cornrow Gentleman woke up one day, looked in the mirror, and said, “You know what would make me, a white man who is wearing an American flag T-shirt underneath a track jacket I found at the Gap seven years ago with boot cut jeans, look really sweet? Cornrows.”
Have you guys ever heard of Mumford & Sons?
These guys are all named Blake, Brad, or Chad. I have copies of their birth certificates.
Watch the video in full:
In conclusion, the line ‘in love with the money and i’m never letting go’ takes on a totally different and horrible significance when it comes out the mouth of a guy who looks like he owned a diamond mine in a previous life. White people literally ruin everything.
Gabriel Herrera has a graduate degree and is putting it to good use. Follow him on Twitter.