KISO

I wish I could give you this feeling. Bottle it up, and put it on your top shelf for the days you felt you weren’t enough.

“Sometimes you gotta pop out and show niggas”.

The cultural shift happening in hip hop, hell, in the world right now, has been one of the most profound experiences of my human journey so far. To witness it all from the front row, as a child of the best coast, and as the eyes of the culture… all I can say is THEY are truly not like US.

It’s true, something changed in the city after Nip died. Then after Kobe, and losing Drakeo the Ruler, it felt like the LAnd just couldn’t catch a break. Like the city had lost those small intimate details that made LA, LA. 

Our leaders kept getting cut down right when the world was beginning to take notice of them. I had no idea how impactful this moment would be when the first shots were fired via “Like That,” but I’ll never forget the feeling I had the first time I heard it. In bumper-to-bumper traffic on Highland as I received a text from my kinfolk with the track and four words attached: “The Bars are Back. Born in ‘91 at California Medical Hospital, the first lyrics I learned from the age I can remember were “California Love.” There’s a pride about this side that separates other regions from the West. Perhaps it’s the generations spared the ridicule of the Jim Crow South due to their kinfolk migrating West.

The Black Panthers started right out here in Oakland, showing up at the courthouse with shotguns and machine rifles to stand on their amendment rights.

Black folks out West have always and will always be some of the boldest and baddest mothafuckas around. 

“We might argue amongst each other, but I promise you this, we’ll burn this bitch down you get us pissed.” Pac said this in ‘96. Losing Nip the way we did broke us. 

We let our King die at the hands of our own, in his own Kingdom. So for a while now, we’ve silently grieved and slowly whispered about the day we would have our moment once more…

“Psttt….I see dead people,” and that’s exactly what I thought the moment I heard “Taylor Made Freestyle.” 

Yo, have you lost your fucking mind?, To have the audacity to use Tupac Shakur’s AI voice against the anointed “King Of the WestCoast” This was a fatal mistake by Aubrey, because that is a cardinal sin on this side, we do not take any disrespect toward Pac on any level, at all over here. And with the world looking at US, because it wasn’t just Kendrick. When he crossed that line and used OUR legends' voices, it became a coastal thing at that point. 

“You think the Bay gonna let you disrespect Pac, nigga?”

The thing about US out here on the West is that we stick together. Right, wrong, or indifferent, we move as one when the odds are stacked against us. That camaraderie runs deep, generations deep. So much so, it seeps into the very fabric that makes Los Angeles, Los Angeles. It’s what makes us special, how we stick together in times of adversity and, most of all, at times of war. When the culture that we represent comes into question, it’s all gloves off and we all come out to fight for it.

The world put Drake on that pedestal as one of the best, as someone who represented US, and right when it seemed all hope was lost, our KING stepped in to let the world know what CULTURE really is, which is AUTHENTICITY and who sets the bar for it. This past week, I have got to witness firsthand, from the front floor of the Forum, the cultural shift that has happened on a global scale. Hip Hop has grown past the boroughs of the Bronx and stretched its arms out to the world. It doesn’t belong to US anymore, but still, it represents us. The world took our fashion, our style, imitated our lyrics, and re-rocked our cadences.

“Tell them run to America to imitate heritage, but they can’t imitate this violence.”

They could never be US, and let’s make it clear, when I say “THEY,” I don’t mean Drake fans. I mean the world that exists outside of everything that is authentic and true to the culture. The DJ Vlads, the Adam22s that pick at the good things and amplify the negative aspects of OUR culture.

“You not a colleague, you a fucking colonizer.” The status quo had prevailed long enough. A lot of the OGs I’ve spoken with over the past few days have all recalled special memories of the 90s when Pac rolled up and down Crenshaw Blvd., as "California Love" blasted out of every car radio. When it was new and the world wasn’t sure of how to love our expressions but not love US, we took care of US. We pushed the singles to the charts and packed out arenas. We never needed the rest of the world to validate us, we validated US.

“You better learn about that dress code, B’s & C’s. All them other cats is copycats, these is G’s.” For a long time, we fought and killed each other in petty neighborhood wars; as the world classified us as “Gang Culture,” or as “too West Coast”….until “sometimes you gotta pop out and show niggas.” Kendrick Lamar popped out with an entire West Coast lineup at the Great Western Forum and put the world onto what it meant to be the KING of the West and to become the King of Hip Hop.

Kendrick didn’t just claim the crown for himself; he united the Bloods and Crips from different areas of the city, bringing them together at the Forum to usher in a new era in hip hop. This was a powerful statement, demonstrating that the divisions that once tore our communities apart could be healed through the universal language of music.  As the Forum buzzed with energy, a sense of solidarity and hope filled the air. The unity that Kendrick fostered marked a turning point, showcasing that the West Coast, under his reign, stands stronger and more united than ever.

The cultural shift we are witnessing is not just about music; it's about transformation, resilience, and the unbreakable bond that holds our communities together. 

Kendrick Lamar, with the crown firmly upon his head, represents this new chapter where the West Coast leads with authenticity, unity, and an unwavering commitment to the true essence of hip hop. 

The world may try to emulate our heritage, but they can never replicate the spirit and strength that define us. 

This is our culture, our legacy, and our time.

Available via Keepitsimplyorganic.com

As a conscious African American man, it would be impossible and would not be of my character if I did not express how I feel about the realities that I have always lived with and the ones that have for the first time become a reality for the world. 

  I have like many others felt the call to go represent us on the front lines.

 I have done so and I will again. 

Though, the need or urgency to post these photos evade me. 

Even looking at them at this point, is difficult.  

How can you process history fully, while you're still living through it?

So I refrained. 

Sometimes silence can be deafening. 

Sometimes the south can be threatening.

The stillness of my surroundings, compounded by the weight of the nation unveiled the reality that even with the world fighting for change for people who like us.....here in Alabama.

We didn't seem to care.  

We have accepted our standard of living so long ago, that the idea of a world or at minimum a state where we aren't followed, harassed or in fear of our lives every moment that we step outside of our neighborhood is one that most can not comprehend. 

Until recently, neither could I.

My dad was the same age that I am now, twenty-eight during the 92 riots. Escaping the south with a degree that in his eyes meant nothing more than a piece of paper that gave him acceptance into a world that was designed to keep him out. I come from a long line of educators, it has been one of the primary pillars of the southern family. My grandmother always preached and instilled in us the importance of a college degree. Her mother was a teacher and her grandmother’s mother was a slave; in the 1950’s the only way out of Evergreen, Alabama was school. In her eyes, the fewer cards stacked against you the better, and the only way for a black man or woman to get any place of status in this country was through education. Life in the south for us is different. 

Separate but equal. Racism has always been the most evident below the Mason Dixon line. In most cities in the south, you have the black side and white side of town. The black side of town always being the most run-down and decrepit.  The standard of living in the inner cities is more vividly desolate in the south I feel. “Things don’t get rebuilt here, they crumble and die.”….. I was surprised to see nice homes, and backyards when moving to South Central in 2012; no abandoned homes, very few vacant lots, crackheads only came out at night.  “L.A. has some of the nicest but dangerous neighborhoods in the world.” I think the only difference is that you don’t have to walk out your door every day and see the poverty so vividly.

A black man in the south without a degree is a “strong back”. You either play football, sell drugs, college, or the state docks. Our worldview doesn’t exist much more than our 8-10 blocks and what is portrayed to us on the television.  So my grandmother made it a point to educate all of us and push most of us across the stage. I hate to use this terminology but, below the Mason Dixon line..mentally a lot of us down here are still enslaved. 

The generation before us lived with the belief that if we educate and work hard enough we can have a piece of the "American Dream".  Maybe for some, but for most, we are for a better word "fucked" from birth. The average household income in Prichard, Alabama for a family of 3 is 25,100 a year according to the most recent census. The minimum wage currently in the state of Alabama is $7.25. Let that sink in. Now explain to me how a family supposed to see any way out of this environment other than education or sports down here. 

1981, was the year my dad graduated high school and was also the year of the last recorded lynching in America. Michael Donald, in my hometown of Mobile, Alabama. My father recounts the day very vividly, with his mother quickly rushing him and his brother home inside the house. He spoke of him and his best friend sitting in the yard for a few hours furious at how a 16-year-old classmate could be beaten and hung so brutally. He knew then that this one no place for him. My dad was 17. I am 28, and there have been four unrecorded lynchings ruled "suicides" within the past two weeks alone. 

 The middle child of five, he was the only one to go to a school outside of Alabama. With the stigma of racism and poverty consistently surrounding him, he always told me coming back was never an option.  A graduate of Dillard University, he and two other high school friends found black conciseness through reggae music and the teachings of Marcus Garvey. By graduation day the three of them had committed to a life outside of “Babylon” and saw no need to return to the outdated ways of southern culture.

They grew their locks, took on African names, changed their diets, and moved to Los Angeles, shortly after graduating. Pops instilled me at an early age, the Garvey teachings of “the man who can’t get work, make work”. Even with college degrees, no one was hiring black men with dreadlocks at the time and my father not being one to quit went into business for themselves, opening “Know thyself Bookstore & Screen printing Shop”  one of if not the first on King Blvd. They watched first hand, the Rodney King tape as it was broadcasted live and gathered together as the verdict came down and the city burned.

To be California born and southern raised is to see two sides of America’s coin. "The only difference between Birmingham and Los Angeles, is the police call you Nigger down here when they beat you up.” - Malcom X. In retrospect I feel my parents chose inadvertently racism over the gang violence that encompassed Los Angeles in the 90s. I’ve grown to operate in both worlds and understand the desperate need for change across the board in our communities. Moving forward my goal is to create content and moments that invoke the change I want to see in the world.

Sincerely,