Years have gone since the Mzansi hip-hop arena last treated us to the spectacle of a highly publicised beef, courtesy of two of the then most dominant forces in the game: AKA and Cassper Nyovest. And besides satisfying our primal thirst for conflict, the feud resulted in the passing down of generational heirlooms: Tsholofelo and “Phumakim” from Mufasa, and Levels and “Composure” from Supa Mega. It also saw the emergence of a golden age of South African hip hop, creating a hotbed of success for the genre critically, commercially, and in award shows. But now it’s 2022. And after a lull period, Big Zulu has opened a can of beef, upsetting the balance responsible for both local rap music’s steady life and its stunted growth over the years.
The head honcho of Nkabi Nation fired round after round after round of head shots on “150 Bars (Ke Hip Hop Dawg)”, aiming for esteemed rappers, namely: K.O, AKA, Cassper, Duncan, eMTee, and the lyrical vet Stogie T. Throughout the rampage, uShun’ Wenkabi ran the gamut of insults, shading Skuva for last having a hit in 2014 (“Omunye ngam’cela i-feature wathi ngyabanda ngindikindiki / bheka manje ubanda mpo wagcina i-hit nge Tsiki Tsiki”). He also alluded that the Skhanda God and Supa Mega fell off, referencing their iconic 2014 hit single “Run Jozi (Godly)”. Even eMTee the Hustler caught strays (“iMercedes isentanyeni kodw’ ama-garage aEmtee”), citing the rapper’s Merc tat on his neck and his Ambitiouz Entertainment saga, which resulted in the loss of many of his hard-won assets.
Brutal, I know. But as the song itself goes: ke hip hop, dawg.
After only a few days, Big Zulu’s verbal onslaught raked up hundreds upon thousands of YouTube views. The track is Big Zulu’s “Control” moment, as we witnessed from American rapper Kendrick Lamar about a decade ago.
However, chirping crickets didn’t come out to meet the diss.
K.O blasted back with “Omega Freestyle” and Kwesta with “Quantham (First Load)”. Channelling his “No Fear (Freestyle)” energy from 2014, the Teargas alumnus spat a merciless barrage of cutting one-liners that teleported me back to my primary school years. You know how unashamed insults can get among kids. Both the Son of a Gun and the K-1 God shared the same point, coming after Big Zulu’s capacity as a rap artist (“Uyibhimbi when you spittin’, ngapha liqinile nolimi”) and how well he can craft a hit without a feature (“Mak’ngen’ ivesi lakh’ ivel’ icishw’ Imal’ Eningi”). Did Kwesta not say: “I’m in the league where you don’t even rank”? Of course, he did.
A day before the expected release date, Duncan dropped “Big Ndunu (Umngcwabo)”. Unlike its counterparts from K.O and Kwesta, however, Duncan’s stab was raw and grittier. Going about it Ether style, Skuva tore through Big Zulu with punches packed with degrading insults, ranging from comparing the assailant’s beard to “izinza” to him having big bums: “inkabi enjan’ epakishile…?” “Big Ndunu” is a bag of petty lies and classic kasi slander, but its petulant delivery makes it come off amusing instead of ridiculous. That “Shun’ womfazi” ad-lib? Come on, man.
While tweeps have found it the worst of all responses, I’m of a completely different mind—it brought back memories of the first time I listened to “Ether”. Duncan’s response shunned smooth songwriting and mind-twisting wordplay in favour of crass language, unflinching disrespect, and bawdy humour. Was it good? Was it a poor clap back? That’s open for interpretation. But what’s not up for discussion is the impact and whether or not it fulfilled its objective.
Moving on from responses, it’s no surprise at all—at least from my viewpoint—that AKA and eMTee have seemingly opted to bench themselves, both of them taking to the socials to state their respective stances. Reasonable if you ask me since AKA has already had his fair share of beef-induced showdowns (with Mufasa) and eMTee (versus Flvme) some years ago. Responding, for them, would’ve been something of a pyrrhic victory. Fair enough.
Whether this industry beef will go sour or not, it has drawn eyes back to the hip hop scene. Not that it was dead or anything like that, but with movements like amapiano (and some hip hop musicians jumping ship in pursuit of the cash cow), it hasn’t been as explosive for hip hop in recent memory. Perhaps this beef is the cold splash of water needed to shake it up.
Look at the positive outcomes of beef throughout hip hop history. What did it do for both Esco’s and Hov’s careers? See the heights of success AKA and Cassper reached after they locked horns in 2014? What about the immortalization of The Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac? Okay, that one didn’t end well. But still. Hip-hop is a macho sport. Foolhardiness wins, almost always. It’s the stuff most iconic clashes in the genre are made of.
People are talking, their fingers clicking away on their phones. For once, the masses aren’t hyping the next piano hit—I’m not even throwing dirt right now; I’m an enthusiast of the movement. My point, however, is that people are anticipating an eruption, and their eyes are fixed on rap music. Will Big Zulu pull up with a sequel, or will AKA do an erratic about-face and drop something on the scale of “Composure”? Nobody knows. Others have even quipped that Big Zulu should buy a thesaurus before Stogie drops his response. And that’s what’s keeping the pulse of Mzansi rap strong—the tension. And as with every epic story worth following till the end, this part has flamboyant characters with big temperments, gripping conflict, and nerve-shredding suspense.
As we wait for more to come in the following weeks…
