Waka Flocka Flame Gets Pawed By "Ferocious" Fans in Fort Lauderdale

Categories: Last Night, Review


Once that happened, the night shifted into another gear. The live hip-hop experience is almost comically shitty. So you know an MC has talent when they can turn their CD blasting over a PA into a memorable experience. Which is exactly like what Waka Flocka Flame did from the moment he burst on the scene like a football player charging through a banner mixed with Lil' Jon, Andrew W.K., and the Macho Man Randy Savage.

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Marta Xochilt Perez 

Flocka paced back and forth down in the pit between the stage and the audience like the frontman of an '80s hardcore band. For much of the show he straddled the barricade like an East Berliner fistpumping during the demolition of the Berlin Wall, as the portion of his body exposed to the audience was clawed at, tugged upon, and groped by fans that could be accurately described as "ferocious." His other half was supported by a security guard who took on the rapper's Shaq-like girth with a spiritual dedication not unlike Simon of Cyrene helping Jesús carry his cross.
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Marta Xochilt Perez 
Waka ripped through song after song with the enthusiasm equal to that of the freaks he was whipping into a frenzy. Although he was clearly the center of attention, the life of the party, and within the precise crosshairs of most people in the room's attention and/or adoration, he was still ultimately a participant. His toothy shark's grin framed by a waterfall of perspiration confirmed this.

The night's peak came when a man dressed in a chicken suit was brought onstage for "Rooster in My Rari." He proceeded to go the fuck off, like he was the hip-hop equivalent of the guy who danced for the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. His unbridled, righteously goofy enthusiasm was the absolute embodiment of Waka Flocka's ethos and aesthetic.

Critic's Notebook

The Crowd: Three bros for every ho, high school kids, white people, suburban-y mall norms, squares, various delegates from punk, rock, and/or related etc contingents, Outmoded Broward "scene kids," a few thugs, and a beautiful nerd in a chicken suit.

From The Crowd: Hysterical, language-less cries of party rockin' ecstasy. Imagine people so thoroughly entertained that they flail and holler like a circus clown that has accidentally set itself on fire.

From The Stage: "Why you shakin'...[eyes widen with cartoonish omniscience], like you on dem mollies?" - Waka to his DJ

Personal Bias: We used to prefer getting icy with Gucci. But we've been converted to the Waka Flocka Church of Lampshades.



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