Saturday, 2 January 2010

Dear Wiley ("feat" Chew Fu)

Regarding your latest effort, a solid contender for the most aggressively obnoxious-sounding record of the century thus far.

Quite aside from being a fairly transparent cry of "I want one of those!!!" after hearing Dizzee Rascal's Bonkers (not, for the record, something anyone with good sense or competent hearing would consider particularly worth coveting), I have to say that I've found myself rather perplexed by the track's lyrical content. Your justification for having "the formula" that'll "rain on all o' ya" is, as far as I'm able to discern, as follows:

"Went number one, with Number 1, yeah that's my brother;
I was in the chart with Avenue and Shake a Leg, Roll Deep;
Phoned the Chew Fu, Chew Fu phoned right back;
Anybody who thinks I can't do it anymore, better step right back and take that!"

Now, after a fleeting consideration of these hard-hitting boasts, what you actually appear to be saying is this:

"You know that Tinchy bloke who had a number one last year? He's a mate of mine".

"A few years back, I had a couple of minor hits with a now-forgotten grime collective".

"The producer of this record has an answering machine".

Now, I'm no expert on self-aggrandisement, but I'm pretty sure these are fairly lackadaisical claims at best for having "the formula".

"Wot d'you call it"...? Absolute shit, mate.




PS - Next time you decide to claim that you're "ballin', but don't rub it in your face", you might want to consider not then repeating the words "take that" in excess of 30 times.

PPS - Your proclamation that you were "in a Bedford night-club" does, however, trump the time I was in a Cheshire ice-rink.