Rage Against the Drake Machine

I have established a Drake Free Zone in my car and home: the DFZ.
My husband violates it with impunity.

I think that back in 1992 when I listened to rap and hip-hop music for the first time,
it held a universal appeal because it was about the downtrodden,
the oppressed and their oppressors,
but now it just seems like the only rappers and hip hop artists to get radio play
rhyme about how much the artist likes to receive oral sex and all the shit they've bought.
Can't really call most of them artists... how about Marketing Reps?

I'm sick of... what exactly...
I'm sick of consumerism and materialism, and I'm sick of conspicuous consumption and inconspicuous consumption, which is even worse than its braggart cousin, you know--when rich people hide their luxury purchases--hide their excess because there are way too many of the rest of us wanting.

Wanting can be very dangerous.

One of my history professors argued that the wave of revolutions
that swept Latin America in the early 1800s were revolutions of rising expectations.
People just expected so much better for themselves than what they
actually achieved that they revolted.  Their everyday was not at all what they'd imagined it should be.
Things were not terrible, but people wanted more, expected more.

Anyway, how in the world does this link back to dastardly Drake?
My expectations are too high to accept his lyrics.
I urge everyone to revolt via a boycott of his songs,
and I further incite boycotts against other actively bad lyricists.