This was in stark contrast to the one dimensional bling-bling coming from post-Biggie Smalls Bad Boy Entertainment.
And they were a much welcomed reprieve from the gangster-ism emanating from the Left-coast's Death Row.
Furthermore, they were blessed with the beautiful triple threat -- singing, rapping and acting -- Queen Lauryn Hill. She, arguably, is the most captivating female Hip-Hop artist of all times -- recheck-out the Mis-Education of Lauryn Hill.
Anytime you can have my parents -- not exactly fans of the genre -- singing Ooh la la la la, you know girl has some serious chops.
This all pains me to see the ugly turn of events: Fellow Fugee frontman, Wyclef Jean -- forever feeling his talents were overshadowed by Lauryn's -- has written a memoir that shares a lil too much about the intimacy of Lauryn and him. Wyclef, not content to run for president of Haiti, seems determined to not only destroy the Fugees, Lauryn's fragile emotional state -- he now wishes to destroy our fond memories of a golden era.
For my sake, I am not going to even repeat his salacious and self-serving allegations -- true or false, a gentleman does not kiss and Runteldat (run and tell that, thank you Martin Lawrence) -- nor am I gonna provide a link (true it's easy to google but you will have to do that on your dime).
What I will do, however, is post a couple joints on how I prefer to remember the Fugees...