Only difference between music genres now was the singer’s hat

It sounded like eternal loneliness, like the notion that hell is just the shadows the damned live in and from there they can see into heaven where souls eternally rejoice in God’s radiance. It was reggae that sounded like that concept.

Only difference between music genres now was the singer’s hat. It all sounds the same. If he wear a cowboy hat or a trucker hat, it’s country. If he wear a baseball cap backward, it’s hip hop. If he wear it cocked to the side, it’s R&B. If he wear any other kinda hat, it’s rock. If a female wear a cowboy hat or trucker hat, it’s country, but any other hat or no hat, it’s R&B. Unless she ugly, in which case it’s rock, regardless of the hat situation. If there ain’t no singer, it’s techno. All sounds the same, so if you can’t see the singer’s hat, you can’t know what genre it is.

That actually mighta been reggae. If the singer wore a red, green and black hat, it’s reggae. Don’t sound like reggae though. It sounded like eternal loneliness, like the notion that hell is just the shadows the damned live in and from there they can see into heaven where souls eternally rejoice in God’s radiance. It was reggae that sounded like that concept. Bob Marley be bugging.

From Thumper the Bodyguard

Niggas be listening to some flat-ass mumble-rap bullshit

All them partyers virtually shouting to be heard over the failed razzle and aborted dazzle of the warbly pop music, shit do it get Thumper’s dick soft!

The party was crowded, but the music was bad. Normal but bad. Music got awful while Thumper was in prison. He do try not to focus on it… Not just white people music neither, niggas be listening to some flat-ass mumble-rap bullshit. Thumper don’t judge.
Okay, Thumper do judge, but he don’t fixate on it.

Thumper usedta be cool. He spent lotta his cool years in prison. Now he was the old weirdo bumming around a house party, ain’t nobody talking to him cuz he was scary, twice the age of anybody here, looking like a cast-iron nigga with a foulness, all them partyers virtually shouting to be heard over the failed razzle and aborted dazzle of the warbly pop music, shit do it get Thumper’s dick soft, it weren’t even party music. Can’t dance to it! People forgot how to pick music for a party, damn!
But Thumper weren’t gonna fixate on that.

From Thumper the Bodyguard