The sheer quantity of baldly superficial, uber materialistic rap targeting the teenage demographic is horrifying at best, dystopian at worst. In three-minute vignettes, we see the world reduced to a celebration of violence, misogyny, self-annihilation and butchered grammar. Exposed and vulnerable, our youth, their puerile retinas constantly connected to this audiovisual chaos, are being conditioned for the bleakest interpretation of nihilism.

In steps Lil Pump with the Billboard smashing hit "Gucci Gang" off his debut album Lil Pump released on October 17, 2017. Through subtlety and playfully incoherent vocalization, Lil Pump (aka: Gazzy Garcia) gives voice to this perilous world of teenage angst and desperation while, poignantly offering up tangible nuggets of optimism for his impressionable, oft-pubescent audience.

When entering the dicey realm of teenage sexuality, Mr. Pump doesn't casually refer to coitus in vulgar, misogynistic terms. Rather, his lyrics express his dire need to ensure his sexual partner's engagement, her enjoyment in the experience. Specifically, Mr. Pump's finely-tuned sensitivity dials in on the specific female biological authenticator (the presence of arousal fluid in the labia) as confirmation of his partner's desire to copulate ("Fuck a lil bitch, make her pussy wet").

Unlike other lyricists in the so-called "rap game", Mr. Pump isn't brutally dismissive of those outside his tribal faction. To the contrary, he carefully articulates his concern for the well-being of tribal adversaries with respect to fundamental aspects of life. Specifically, Mr. Pump's "Gucci Gang" lyrics address the following:

• The human need for suitable housing (line 19: "You mamma still lives in a tent, yeah")
• The need for companionship and social inclusion (line 27: "I'd rather fuck a bitch from the projects")
• Ensuring timely delivery of medication to the ailing elderly (line 21: "Me and my grandma take meds, ooh")

And even when Mr. Pump seems to veer off message, descending into the dark malaise of our time, ("I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name") you hear the distress in his highly nuanced vocals, the sheer terror and misfortune plaguing him as he struggles to recall the name of his forgotten lover.

Taking the time to both listen to and read Mr. Pump's lyrics, reveals to the audiophile a greater sense of space and compassion present in the artist's work. It's clear to see that Mr. Pump is not simply peddling a vacuous sort of materialistic nihilism, laden with coded language and self-aggrandizement, but rather a message of community, involvement and self-actualization.

So, dear reader, acting as humble purveyor of pop music, I offer up my modest, unworthy speck of poetic prostration to Lil Pump and his timeless classic of pop music iconography. Please permit my lowly poem of 17 syllables to stand beside this giant of artistic expression, our beloved Lil Pump.