Because the West Coast apparently needed its answer to Flatbush Zombies. Except rather than play up the horror-core angle, they stick to the tried and true Black Sunday formula of blunt after after blunt after blunt. Add the Chill Black Guys to the growing arsenal of rappers claiming West LA (BEEF, Mann). When I was a growing up in the Jurassic Age, there were only Whooliganz and Evidence. Neither were repping for Robertson Blvd. Thankfully.
Chill Black Guys ostensibly took their name from a Hipster Runoff blog post, but they can rap well enough, smoke well enough, and seem capable of out Mac Millering Mac Miller. Each of their videos has roughly six figure YouTube views without coverage from the blog-industrial Complex. Maybe even fans that also exist off of the Internet. I’m lying. Nothing exists off the Internet.
This is what happens after jerkin, Odd Future, cooking, Hypebeast, and Pharrell. Worlds collide. I also theoretically endors a song called “Smoking on Purp,” — least original song title ever (especially when this exists. But you get points for effort and for forgoing craft services to satisfy your video’s weed quotient.
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