Hailing from Santana, California, Siccness comes up with the spirit of an outlaw depicting the harsh ghetto reality that prevails in California.
Fuck The Cops is built on a siren background combined with catchy drum beats and keyboard sounds. With his sharp, well built words, Siccness stabs where it really hurts. Revealing a corrupt police with a racial discriminatory policy, Siccness raises an angry fist against a government from which originated an uncontrollable hood violence.
On a rhythmic instrumental background, interrupted by gunshots, Siccness spits his Sicc Venom. The gritty, dark atmopshere of the song symbolizes an army of hood soldiers marching on.
Hold No Punches totally reveals an excellent orator in Siccness. The artist appears as the leader of a movement that serves its dishes raw. A violin background contrasts with the dark piano/ keyboard sounds. Lyrically Siccness is taking over, flooding over with a mad flow delivery.
I Don’t Really Give A Fuck: like a menacing ouragan breaking out in the background, a dark, hardcore bass instrumental background totally matches with the skilled emcee’s lyrics.
His words spread like powerful bullets, reaching each target with determination.
Loud xylophone notes introduce Straight Hustling. Again Siccness is taking over lyrically and instrumentally. The rhythmic, well handled instrumental part of the song needs to be underlined in any case.
The Realist takes you straight into Siccness’ rude world in which lyrics do matter to the fullest. Tuba, violins, gunshots, xylophone, keyboards, drum beats, each element creates a running atmosphere during which nobody could beat the artist’s ill cypher.
If you take hip hop seriously, check out Siccness here.
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