Having lived in Brooklyn, I've been lucky enough to have friends who would break into song at the drop of a hat at the university dining hall and other places. They did it beautifully, and the performance was as rewarding as the rhyme itself. Punjabi hiphop, on the other hand, is like watching Britney Spears. Netiher should be on telly, but there they are. And it's rumoured that there's a market for this stuff.
Another problem with Punjabi hiphop, and a lot of other entertainment in India, is that what should have been a novelty suddenly becomes more lasting because of its success. It's like a sudden spurt of horror movies after one does well, or the last decade's herd of romantic movies after 'Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jaayenge' (We still haven't recovered from that trend, by the way).
Hence the current barrage of Punjabi hiphop videos. Most start with a) a lone Punjabi male wailing mournfully before the beat sets in, and b) an African-American uttering gibberish before the beat sets in. This went out of fashion in the US with Vanilla Ice.
"Jassi in da house," proclaims a mandatory black* at the start of one especially inane music video. That's the problem. I want him out of my house.
*'Black' is a term used for matters of convenience on this blog.