Hova is coming to Lincoln — Lincoln — freaking Lincoln — and I have never been so excited in my whole life. Jay-Z is the modern day Shakespeare, except he’s good as hell and I don’t have to read his work. Yeah, take a hint, William; no one wants to read iambic pentameter when we’ve got Young Hov spittin’ mad rhyme scheme, you dead idiot.
I love him, man. How couldn’t I? How couldn’t anybody? You’d have to be dumb or dead not to love Iceberg Slim. He’s a genius. Check out this lyric: “Uh, letter to my dad that I never wrote/ Speeches I prepared that I never spoke/ Words on paper that I never read/ Proses never penned, they stayed in my head.” Better than, “Oh, I’m Hamlet, my dad’s dead, my uncle screwed my mom, and I die at the end,” right? Of course, I’m right.
God, I’m so pumped. This whole city should be pumped. As long as Jigga’s on stage at the Pinnacle Bank Arena, there will be a sound euphoria of epic proportions. Don’t believe me? Just wait. Jay’s never let any of his fans down ever, and that won’t stop now. I can safely say if Jiggaman doesn’t put on a show for the ages I will kill myself – I’ll kill myself so hard, you don’t even know. But I won’t have to worry about that, ‘cause it won’t happen. ‘Cause Lucky Lefty’s gonna show, and mark my words, he’s gonna blow your minds.
J-Hova created Kanye, he created the Brooklyn Nets, he founded New York; he’s a god among men. Compared to S-dot, we’re nothing. He married the best we could offer, almost ruined it with his penis, then made an album about almost ruining it with his penis, turned his infidelity into a damn classic and is STILL MARRIED TO BEYONCE! If the audience isn’t bowing down on Dec. 6 to the good, the great and the godly, it will be an atrocity.
Check back tomorrow for The DailyER’s full review of this epic concert.