I’ve been raving about Inspectah Deck’s verses on “The Champion” for a solid week to my fellow rapper friends and Wu diehards.  Deck was my favorite Clansmen until his disappointing LP Uncontrolled Substance came out 2 years late (blame Loud Records and the lift of RZA’s five year dictatorship on Wu-Tang’s recorded output).  What’s so remarkable about this song is that Deck unleashed a new rhyme scheme that is challenging to follow as a listener.  It’s vintage INS for sure, but also forward-thinking.  Deck has never been obtuse with his writtens–he comes from the GZA school of vivid, concise, and descriptive verses dating back to his breakout narrative on “CREAM”.  “The Champion” is a bit Supreme Clientele-era Ghostface with a seemingly stream of concious flow, but once you read it on paper, it follows a very clinical pattern that is true to Deck’s style.

As he stated in today’s outstanding interview at HipHopDX, a must-read for Wu fans, “each back-end of the word rhymes with the next word comin’…I just don’t think the public is ready for them yet, ’cause they’re so trained.”  Here’s where he is wrong — the public is trained to his brand verbal construction.  People are enchanted with unorthodox bar trickery from like the likes of MF Doom, De La Soul, Ghostface, Raekwon, Camp Lo, Aesop Rock, etc.  Guys like that have a basis for going off track, tickling us with abstract dada-ism, fly slanguistics, odd bar counts, and so on.  Deck has played the straight man brilliantly for almost 20 years; anything beyond styles he mastered (and we memorized) a la “Cold World”, “CREAM”, “Above the Clouds”, etc are shocking. 

I’ve been geeking off “The Champion” because it signals a willingness to explore and search for new approaches from a guy who can realistically mail it in and still have a career touring and tacking his name to Wu projects (see: the benefits of writing ”Triumph”).  I’d expect verses like this from Elzhi or even Papoose, guys who make a living off being a conceptual word magician.  It’s good to see Deck drop the lunch pale and unleash some hardbottom, Bob Bachlin, science splitter rap.

“I scream machine gun funk trunk slayer
Major pain game hunter, summertime shine
Mind controller, hold a crowd still, hilltop dweller
Sell the Garden out, housegame chain
Cuban link blink blues shoes you could never wear
Stare hard, God rise above love/hate, make your choice
Voice like Luther, future hall of famer
Came a long way, stay fly, I Soldier
Ayatollah, air bender, send a chill, drill sarge
Hard bottom got em hooked
Took my time, grind heavy, Ready
For the World, girl please ease to experience
Been a don ever long size wise do it
Do it like Nike type gritty city boy, ‘noid never
Better recognize, eyes of the tiger
The fire breather, heed the truth son
The champion

This is Ruger rap, clap clips strips buzzing cousin
Got the spider blade shade grips, this how I’m stylin’
Island of Stat, black hawk, walk with me
50 Cal flow, blow the roof, few learned, burn unit
Truest popping watch him work, purp smoking, choke your rabbit
Catch a tidal wave, slave to the rhythm, give ‘em hell
Bell ringer, Springer show, throw a chair, air it out
Doubt Deck, check your pulse folks, with this history,
Rewriting this script, switch it on ‘em, taught ‘em how,
Now’s a new day, say what, clutch shoot em
Through the storm calm bomb arm dangerous
Spit game, flame thrower, Cobra commander
Pandemonium, it’s only him, swim with the sharks
Spark light, night breeze see planet camera flash
Cash only homie, your knot jam till the band done
The champion”