Hip-Hop Old Man

Last Friday a few of my cousins came by the house and we had what I would call my first true cypher in months, maybe even a year or so. We shared beats, freestyled, I did some cutting on the decks; we had a great time enjoying each other’s company and love for hip-hop. Took me back to the times when we were just a few young niggas wanting to rap.

I’ve been trying to tap into that feeling for what seems like forever. It’s like life has been dropping down so many other things where it hasn’t been a priority to create like it used to be. I come home and stare at my equipment: turntables and drum machines, records from wall to wall, feeling too tired or too distracted by homework or work-work or reading one of the many e-newsletters I’ve subscribed to over the years. I don’t write anymore, or at least like I used to. Not bars, not poems, but essays for school and research manuscripts though…I write that shit all day now. It’s a different kind of frustration, looking back on life as a teenager, dreaming about graduating college, securing the bag, and buying all the equipment I needed to be on…I never thought that when I got here I would barely have the time to get down.

But that cypher relit the flame, at least a little bit. I thrive in a collaborative environment, and last weekend made me realize I have been isolating myself in choosing my priorities. I have to reset and find the balance again, make sure me and my family take time to just go back to creating. We all had the same issues in finding time: I have my things, they have their things that take priority over hip-hop. That’s the New Years Resolution.

THE SHIT...

As a voting member of the Black Delegation, Murder Mitten, Dirty District...

I think we need to go ahead and drop the Black Folk Support Spirit Bomb on Tales From the Hood 2, and here’s why:

1. It didn’t stray from the source material, probably because it had the same minds behind it. Same formula, different stories, but they reference the first. I should have watched the first one and the sequel back to back to check the references. Dope nuances within the whole thang.

2. The stories, as well as the background story bringing the tales together, are super relevant to what’s happening right now. Gory horror is an in-your-face horror, and this movie brings both the gore and systemic racism in your face. 

3. How about the fact that it’s straight up fucking GOOD. 

Better be walkin’ wit angels, and never take candy from strangers / Through the stress and strife had to earn my stripes like I played for the Bengals / I’m in the zone holmes, goin’ for the 2-point conversion / I’m so hood that Ludacris shoulda been on the original version

My verses still be servin’ , tight like a million virgins / Last time on a Khaled remix, now I’m on the original version /

-Luda

Ludacris has always been one of my favorite emcees, and sometimes I don’t think he gets his due. Lyrically he’s consistently clever, versatile, has dope punchlines, and in my opinion it feels like he’s having fun making music. His videos are over the top and in the lineage of Missy Elliott and Busta Rhymes. And he MAKES FUCKING HITS. Selling matters, and he has sold a lot without compromising his style of hip-hop. Respect.

He has plenty verses that could be cited for my favorite bars list, but the “original version” bars take the cake just off of follow-through alone. These songs weren’t back to back, there were three years between the “I’m So Hood” remix (2007) and “All I Do is Win” (2010) Imagine hearing “All I Do is Win” for the first time, realize Ludacris is starting the verse, and having the OH SHIT moment when you recognize he’s on the original version now when he wasn’t before, as his lyrics capture that same moment. I think it’s dope as shit. Makes the list. I’m going to go watch Fast & Furious 18.5 now.

I’ve come to the realization I don’t have time for Kanye. 

A few months ago, when he started wearing the MAGA hat and saying shit that people took as him finally going off the deep end, I thought I still had time. I thought that I would have the time to listen to his TMZ interview and interview with Charlemane the God in full, the time to listen-like really sit down and listen-to his new albums and make a conscious opinion on what I thought of it all. It wasn’t like people weren’t asking. Most of my good friends know I’ve been a Kanye West fan since the College Dropout, and those that didn’t would think I would have an opinion because a) I’m black b) I’m a DJ c) I’m rather vocal on these kinds of things anyway, or a combination. 

Then I didn’t have the time to listen, and in the time I didn’t have to listen he did more of what I and much of my circle would define as “outlandish shit.” 

I’ve realized two things about Kanye. First, he’s not the Kanye I expected him to be. I expected him to be more in tune with what’s going on in the realities of black folk in America, and he’s not. I don’t want to speculate as to why: the why doesn’t matter because he just isn’t, and what Kanye isn’t is being manifested in quite a few emcees, djs, and hip-hoppers that are standing in their power and becoming activists. I’d rather uplift those who are on the boat than wonder why those ashore haven’t gotten on. 

Secondly, I’ve realized Kanye’s not really on my priority list. It will probably be a minute before I get to the albums because bullshit aside I haven’t been rocking with him sonically for a while. There are quite a few dope albums on my desk I haven’t even played yet...his ass can wait. Additionally, who has the time to deconstruct every antic of this man just to try to speculate what he’s trying to say (because let’s face it, he’s speaking in a lot of ambiguities and his defending fanbase is just projecting what they think he’s saying in order to make it make sense). We’re all just figuring it the fuck out really.You might, I don’t. 

Now that we’re reaching peak cookout season, and I’ve spun enough cookouts and family reunions that I should be able to cash in a free ticket, I’d like to make a menu request:

I want some Baby Momma Potato Salad.

Now before you offer up just anyone’s baby momma’s potato salad, there are conditions.

The baby momma has to be on good terms with the family and is trusted to bring dishes to functions. She’s usually called by her first name or a nickname until recently; now she’s known as Such-and-such’s baby momma. So like, everyone was cool with Jazzy until Easter, now they just call her Rell’s Baby Momma.

The fallout that knocked the baby momma down a few notches has do be due to a minor incident that turned to mid-level because it pissed off one of the top-tier aunties. Examples include:

-Taking the kids to her home church on Easter Sunday

-Kids didn’t like the birthday/Christmas present and she said “Don’t worry, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to play with/wear that if you don’t want to” in front of everyone.

-Not heeding unsolicited parenting advice, and vocally saying she’s not going to follow it.

Notice a pattern; the incidents usually fall within the baby momma’s rights as a parent and an adult to respond in the manner she did. It’s just that auntie is extra. You’ll often find the baby momma saying “Well in my family,” “Rell and I decided that,” or “They’re my kids so…” in the midst of the conversation that upset the extra auntie. It’s also of note that these incidents that ignite the extra-ness usually can be ended by her man if he intervened, but the likely response is he opted out or gave no comment.

The potato salad has to be one made of redemption: everyone in the family knows she can throw, so she makes potato salad for the cookout. This has to be a potato salad recipe that was generally well received before, but this time she puts two ankles and a kneecap in it to make a statement. When she shows up to the cookout, the extra-ass auntie she pissed off also made potato salad out of spite. Since it’s her man’s family, the baby momma’s potato salad goes mostly untouched because everyone is either loyal to auntie, or they don’t want to get involved; we all know you get involved as soon as you eye that other potato salad.

I’m starting to give more thought to this Drake v Pusha T battle. Right before writing this I listened to the Duppy Freestyle, and Pusha T’s Infrared. I think Infrared is a way better song, but this isn’t about that. There’s a fundamental difference between the canons of Drizzy and King Push: ghostwriting. It’s the reason why I have dismissed this beef the first time I heard about it, but I’m reconsidering the effects of a Drake victory in the eyes of the public.

Pusha T comes from arguably the last era where original, self-written lyrics was held in high regard by the hip-hop court of popular opinion. Writ large you wrote your own shit. I know ghostwriters existed, and many dope emcees like Royce da 5’9 and Gillie the Kid have talked about their work behind the scenes in helping the careers of big name rappers. However, there was an authenticity to many emcees that would have been compromised if they let someone else write for them. Pusha was one of them.

Drake openly broadcasts the use of ghostwriters, which is cool, but not cool when it comes to hip-hop battles. I ask myself how much of that track did Drake actually write. “Back to Back” had ghostwriters. It’s one thing to have a ghostwriters in making a hit, but battles are personal. If you need help to body an emcee, you didn’t body them, flat out point blank period.

Does anyone else notice a pattern? Recently there have been a few times where someone does some really black shit and BOOM! OMFG HE'S GOT A WHITE WIFE becomes the topic of the day, sometimes at the expense of the body of work. Mike Colter (Luke Cage), white wife. Jordan Peele drops Get Out, white wife. Childish Gambino drops arguably the blackest music video in the post-Lil Jon hip-hop timeline (at least Top 5) and there is more buzz about his spouse than the video. I'm not saying Russians or anything, but to quote Clay Davis: Sheeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiit partner, there's got to be something to this.

Gotta watch which Black "nerds" are complaining. I've been working on a "Mr. Nice Guy" theory that pretty much sums up in saying there's a difference in asking "Why can't I find love" and "How come I ain't got no bitches?" My working assumption is there is a number of self-proclaimed Nice Guys that are really asking the latter, and from some of the comment sections in the larger threads a number of self-proclaimed nerds seem to be asking that too.

Some thuggin-playa-pimp-trick-gangsta-click cats watch DBZ, some new nerds don't fit the criteria of the old definition. What are the levels to this shit?

Why are we as black men still coming up with excuses to not love our sistas? I don't find anything wrong with a black man dating whomever makes him happy, but I have an issue when his reasoning is at the expense of our melanated femaliens.

Some of my favorite graffiti I snapped while touring the Ruhr in Germany. Hip-hop is universal. I had a moment when I caught the B.I.G. one. It was exactly 10 years after the death of the late great Frank White. Now that’s an experience. 

Book of 1Carter, Chapter 6, Verse 12: