How to Fix Hip-Hop

Your penis has been inside of my girlfriend.

Your jewelry has hecka diamonds of the utmost clarity.

Your cars are not made by an American company.

Your women are the most exotic and lascivious on the planet.

WE FUCKING GET IT ALREADY, RAPPERS.

Led by Mr. Bryan "Baby" "I like to fuck 'em in they ass while he beat up the pussy" "Birdman" Williams, the gaudiness and ostentation of the early aughts brought about some of the most stuntastic moments of the modern era: million dollar jewelry, 32" inch spinning rims, platinum football fields, Chrysler Prowlers. But since then, rap's superfluous splurging has become trite. That's why someone like RiFF RAFF can Versace Hurricanrana onto the scene and become beloved by millions of Internet people— because he possesses a uniqueness and creativity (a quality disappearing at an alarming rate).

I'm tired of seeing a genre fundamentally rooted in creativity and braggadocio transform into an assembly line of factory-made dullards equipped with monotones, a cursory understanding of Molly and Givenchy. If you aren't going to one-up the next man then why are you even rapping? Become a fucking shift manager at Wendy's and make room for those who care about the craft. I've put together a few ideas for any rappers reading this who care about upholding rap's iced-out legacy.

No way all of you rappers are fucking my bitch. I'm getting tired of hearing how you hypothetically fucked her and then gave her back to me. It's not believable anymore. Might I suggest changing the focus to something more off-putting or personal like:

• I fucked your mom, and she made me that lasagna you love. Both the lovemaking and pasta were not very good.
• I fucked your weird aunt, you know the one with the goiter.
• I fucked your first grade teacher, Ms. Behrend, that held you while you cried about your parents leaving you on the first day of school. She was very much about showing me her cephalocaudal pattern of development, and told me you are a bitch.
• I cunnilinged the girl with the bird face that gave you a handjob on the side of the Kappa Sigma house.
• I fingerbanged your mail lady. Why did you defer on your student loans, broke boy?

These are way more specific and, if applicable to me, would ruin my entire year if I heard them in a song. However, none of these are actual rhymes, but that's not my job. My job as a music "writer" is to come up with self-aggrandizing dumb digestible content that entices Internet users to click-through to this site and share this article. Rhyming is your job. Get to it.

No rapper owns a giraffe yet. No rapper owns a family of manatees yet. No rapper has purchased Puffin Island yet. Why is this? Laziness.

Remember when French Montana got so high that he bought two tiger cubs? That was cute, but not baller. They are baby tigers, which are not dangerous and not rare. I mean this Middle-Eastern Guy has a pet cheetah that is grown and sitting in his luxury whip with a collar on. That is pretty baller, but one out of every 20 white persons has a pet cheetah so its not that baller. You know what's baller? A Malayan Tapir, as modeled above by Rick Ross.

These things are like wild boar quasi-elephant aardvarks. Not only will no one know what this thing is when you ride it up to the club's valet parking area while you play Gameboy Color, but it's motherfucking endangered, making it even baller-ier. Moreover, it's scientific name is "Tapirus Indicus." You and your stoner buddies could make an unlimited amount of weed jokes.

If you want to really flex all over us plebeians, you are going to want to bypass the weird endangered animals and skip straight to the crazy dangerous. Cop a Death Adder, one of the most venomous and aggressive snakes in the world, affix your diamond-encrusted pendant to its scales and wear it as a live chain around your neck. It doesn't have to be a Death Adder, it could be a Belcher's Sea Snake, a Black Mamba, etc. Point being that you are wearing a live poisonous snake as your necklace, which lets everyone know you are so rich that you don't even give a fuck about dying because you can afford antivenom.

Your car is foreign? So is my Daewoo Espero. No one cares about your Ferrari/Lamborghini/Aston Martin. These brands have all become ubiquitous at this point. I'd rather hear a rapper talk about whipping Birdman's Plymouth Prowler than a Murciélago. To be honest, the most stuntastic thing you can do is abandon terrestrial travel altogether. Why rappers drive cars instead of buying helicopters and repelling down onto a rooftop bewilders me. If I were a rapper I'd only travel via helicopters, private planes, dirigibles and elaborate whole city zipline systems. Return that S600 and buy an airship, flightboy.

Stop touting Blasians, Latinas, and Polish women. At this point, no one is purebred anymore; we are all mutts. If I want to see the types of women rappers talk about, I can just go to Whole Foods. Every type of human being is at a Whole Foods. To really change the game, a rapper needs to hit the town with a chick from a lost tribe. Importing a Sentinelese or Jarawan (no "Utinni!") female has to be the most baller womanizing thing a man can do. It's all about the most isolated of honey dips.

All I ask is for rappers to stop regurgitating buzzwords and saying the things they think they are supposed to be saying. Have a bit of flair. Be unique, please, because every song has started to sound like Drake ft. Not a Policeman Meme Talking About Molly & '04 Fabolous Boasts. Do better, rappers. I believe in you, and I believe in your imagination.

Bauce Sauce takes his shirt off when he writes because his words are too hot. He's on Twitter - @BauceSauce