ironsidehex

Ok, where do I start?

The beginning is probably as good a place as any. I’m not starting back in ’93 when Buckshot dropped “WHO GOT THE PROPS”, I’m starting in ’05 when SEAN P dropped “MONKEY BARZ”.

In a roundabout way, SLUM VILLAGE is responsible for my relationship w/ Ruck, & therefore they’re sorta responsible for RANDOM AXE.

It went down like this…

THE ALPHA

It was 2005 & I was SLUM VILLAGE’s road manager at the time. We were in New York doing press & retail promo for their upcoming self-titled lp. The promo dudes we were with were BIZ & BROADWAY. I have no idea what we called Broadway back then but it sure as f### wasn’t Broadway. He picked that up when he moved to the Chi. So any f###### way it was time to leave NY & do the EastCoast run. First stop, Delaware. Biz gets the rental, he’s driving, & he’s banging some of the most brutal s### I’ve ever heard. This muthafucka’s bars were harder than adamantium. I didn’t say s###, I just listened. The f###### music was talking to me. It was saying, “Go f### somebody up.” Then all the way to D.C. from Delaware Biz got this dude in the deck barking at me. It was like there was a dog whistle in the beat, something only I could hear. Me & whoever the f### this was were on the same frequency.

I just felt like it was the greatest s### I ever heard & I was having a hard time keeping my composure. No melodies or muthafuckas sounding like Cylon robots & s###. Just straight primal beats & bars dipped in acid & dripping blood. Everybody else in the vehicle nodded their heads to the music but I could tell that they weren’t hearing it the way I heard it. The dude sounded kinda familiar, but I KNEW I hadn’t heard any s### like this before. Dog sounded like a feral animal trapped in a cage trying to get the f### out before the lp ended. This was some savage s###. I think on the way to Philly from D.C. I finally asked who the f### it was. “SEAN PRICE”, came the reply. Well, I KNEW that. He had said his name a million times. “Dude that use to be in HELTAH SKELTAH. Ruck.”

RUCK.

That’s where I heard that voice before. Fab5.

“LEFLOUR LEFLAH ESHKOSHKA,” HeltahSkeltah’s “NOCTURNAL” & “MAGNUM FORCE”. All joints I f##### with in the 90’s. I bad heard Rock’s unmistakable voice but i thought he was just doing cameos on some new dude’s s###.

Ezoic

“THAT’S Ruck? Let me see that cover.” He handed it over, a cover that had a cartoon rendering of Ruck in an astronaut suit fighting some apes with two bubbles that said “SEAN PRICE”.

I decided right then that I was was gonna find Mr.Price. One of my oldest friends & client, Guilty Simpson, had begun working on his debut LP w/ J.Dilla & I planned for Ruck to be on it. As I recall, I got at my man Dan Green over at Clockwork Music & asked him to connect me with DruHa who in turn told Sean P about my request. After he familiarized himself with Guilty’s music, be agreed to do the record. At some point during the coordinating to actually get the song done I started to talk to Ruck. It was like finding a long lost brother. Me & this guy would be on the phone talking s### for hours. Now this is where s### goes kinda left. I’m pretty sure Ruck sent the vocals for “RUN”, fairly quickly . I can’t recall when “MONSTER BABIES” got done or why. In 2006 both Proof & Dilla died so Guilty’s lp ended up being pushed back. We already had the “RUN” record in the can but I continued to talk to Ruck almost daily.

EPISODE I

Somehow or the other we got the bright idea to go on a European tour together. Guilty, BlackMilk, Ruck & Ruste Juxx as his hypeman. I was the road manager / DJ for this run. Basically it boiled down to babysitting, collecting money from the promoters & European tour manager, making sure we got everything we were promised, overseeing technical & stage s###, all around problem solving, and pushing play on the CDJ. Simple. Well, right from jump s### didn’t go as planned. First of all Ruck had like four CD’s for his set. Two for him, Ruste did two joints so he had a disc, & Black had “RUN” on a separate disc. And his disc wasn’t in order for the set he wanted to do. The songs were all over the place. I was jumping between discs & changing discs through the course of the show. I didn’t sign up for this s###. I was supposed to just push play & drink. Ruck had me up there like I was f###### DJ Q-Bert. We streamlined the show as we progressed & got it closer to the order on the disc. Also, Ruck HATED soundcheck. He NEVER went to soundcheck. It was usually just me & Black. Ruck would say, “F### that soundcheck s###, hex. The s### is gonna sound like it sounds. F### soundcheck.” He hated soundcheck so much he would try to stop me & Black from going. He didn’t give a f### about soundcheck because he was closing the show & he knew that any technical problems would be remedied by the time he got on.

So first show is Austria & its PACKED.

G.S. then Black, then Ruck. It’s going great. No mistakes. Ruck gets down to the last two songs, “PSYCHO WARD” & “RUN” is the finale, where all three emcees are supposed to are supposed to perform that joint together.

When “PSYCHO WARD” ends & G.S. & Black are about to get on stage, Ruck abruptly jumps off the stage like Spiderman into the already frenzied crowd & elbows his way through the mass of people trying to grab him, to the dressing room, giving out black eyes, chipped teeth & subdural hematomas along the way.

F##### some Austrians up.

The rest of us just stood on stage & watched him fight his way through the crowd. At one point I asked Ruste, “Is that n**** coming back?” Ruste just shrugged his shoulders. Eventually we made our way back to the dressing room & Ruck was sitting there calm as f### drinking a water. I asked him what the f### that was. He said, “I forgot about ‘RUN’, & I was tired of being on stage.”

SEAN PRICE, ladies & gentlemen.

EPISODE II

As a trio of underground artists, touring overseas is truly planes, trains, & automobiles. U might do three days in a van then take a flight. Then get back in a van for four days, then get on a ferry. Then take a train. All of this s### happens early as f### in the A.M.

It’s stressful & taxing & u don’t get much sleep. On top of all that s### the artists have to pull it together & perform that night.

It’s under these types of conditions that the next story takes place. We hopped on a train in France. Just us five. We were going somewhere else in France & it took 6 or 7 hours to get there and we were all looking forward to the opportunity to get some rest. It didn’t work out that way. Our tickets had all five of us packed in together like sardines. Ruck & BlackMilk decided to upgrade their seats because although most of the passenger cars were full there were some open seats in FirstClass. The seats were contingent on whether or not the people who had purchased them came on board during one of the train’s stops. Ruck & Black decided to take their chances & purchase the upgrade. They spent the whole train ride being awakened from their sleep & having to move to a new seat every time the train stopped. And we weren’t on an express train so we stopped 3 or 4 times. What was extra funny is that by Ruck & BlackMilk moving it gave me, Guilty, & Ruste a lot more room & we were comfortable in our seats.

When we finally reached our destination & disembarked from the train, Ruck was HOT. He was cussing up a storm & telling me to call DruHa to get him a plane ticket, he wanted to go home. I looked at him like he had a basketball for a head. He was CLOWNING. The French dude who came to pick us up walked over to us & just stood there w/ a stupid smile on his face while me & Sean P argued. The French guy didn’t speak any English but he could figure out that me & Ruck weren’t talking about soccer. We finally ended up getting in a (‘nother) van & I finally talked Ruck down off that ledge & convinced him to stay. He said that he would be cool, he just needed some sleep before that night’s ( early ) show. After we talked the guy drove, & everyone was dozing (it was about a 40 minute ride) before our driver made a turn & stopped quickly, jolting us all awake. He put the car in park, nodded, smiled, & unbuckled his seatbelt, indicating that we were at our destination. We all got out like zombies, not even looking at our surroundings. Then I heard Ruck yell, “THIS AINT THE F###### HOTEL!” I looked up, and we were in front of a graffiti covered building. The venue. It was about 4pm. The French dude spoke his first words, two sentences in broken English.

Ezoic

“No hotel. Ezz zoundjeck.”

Ruck f###### howled. “SOUNDCHECK?? F### SOUNDCHECK!!!! CALL DRU!!! I’M GOING HOME!!! F### THIS!!!!”

Everybody tried to keep a straight face & we got our s### & walked in the club, while Ruck was still outside cussing.

EPISODE III

Ok, last but not least we were in a club/bar in Germany, not that big, less than a 300 person capacity. The stage was low & the crowd was pretty close. Intimate setting. Lots of energy. The crowd was really into it. When the show was over, Ruck & I headed to the bar area & in less than a minute he was surrounded by fans wanting him to sign different items. Caps, shirts shoes, napkins, anything they could get their hands on. Ruck smiled & started signing. I’m black too so they also wanted my autograph. They don’t know. It soon became obvious that Ruck wasn’t signing “RUCK” or “SEAN P”. He was taking too long I took a peek & began to follow Ruck’s lead as we tried to out do each other. Patrons left that gig with items signed “BEN VEREEN”, “GREGORY HINES” “IDI AMIN”, ” SHERMAN HEMSLEY”, etc. Very few fans left w/ a “SEAN PRICE” autograph that night.

They could read English.They just didn’t give a f###.

Ruck was a f###### tool.

Me and @madukesofficial Sunday night @dillafest.

I haven't done one of these in a long time, and it's a couple of days late, but here we go...

So @myrnaladycastro decided to MAKE me come out of the house and go to DillaFest. I'm still not sure why it was being held in October, but @djskeez313 was gonna be there, @moodyman313, my dog @dezandresmohagani and the queen, @erykahbadu were gonna be on the wheels, so I was down. Holla'd at my man @coldcris ( who I hate with every fiber of my being ) and we were good to go. Myrna came to pick me up in all my crippleness, and we were off.

When we got to Russell Industrial, I got in my wheelchair and sat on the street while Myrna parked. I felt like Billy Ray Valentine begging for change. ( If you don't get that reference then you're definitely too youg to be following me. ) Anywho, Myrna came back and onward we went. After getting the obligatory pat down from the police ( I'm in a wheelchair, for God's sake ) I saw the homie Skeez, who gave me a hug while I talked about her Martian hair. She gave me and Myrna our VIP wristbands ( b/c I'm cool ) and in we went. The very first person I saw was @phatkat. I would have turned around right then, but I love PhatKat IRL, so I stayed. Kat was leaving b/c he had WORK in the morning. Can you believe that this MF has a job? I thought he just went to Europe when he needed some change. Naw,che does tours of Detroit to tourists. .That's so ill.

Before I knew it, somebody had snuck up behind me and put me in a full-Nelson.

Guess who? @cardi_emperor_35pairs aka Killa Ghanz himself, who had made me a honorary member of the Cardi Boys a few years earlier. After regaining use of my windpipe, and taking a few pictures , I asked where MaDukes was. and Ghanz said that he would take me to her. As we went inside, I put my hood on tight, like people wouldn't know that it was me. The crazy-ass,vugly, former lunatic in the wheelchair w/ the 'FUCK TRUMP: hoodie on. Yeah, real low key. Myrna pushes me through ( which was probably so fun for her ) and we followed Ghanz. Next person I see is The Tap Dance Kid, @rickwlms. My guy. Kicked it with him for a minute then continued on. Some folks tried to stop me, but Myrna pushed me past them. Rude. The good thing about being in a wheelchair,you can blame any rudeness on whoever's pushing you. @hiyelagurl, I'm looking at you. We get behind the stage, no™ MaDukes. TF. Well, I ain't going back out THERE. My anti-social ass was staying put. Here comes my guy, @junesflow. Yeah, I still call him Jah The 5'9". His mama named him Jah 5'9", I'm gonna call him Jah 5'9". Jah created the ill 'GOD IS FROM DETROIT' shirts and hoodies, so definitely hit him up to cop one. After he promised to get me a hoodie, somebody put me in a rear naked chokehold. Shit. Again? Yup, Dreads in my face! @mzkorona. I love Korona, especially when she wasn't choking TF out of me. She finally stopped and we talked about our mutual friend Audi, who has a terrible habit of going to jail for shooting people. I fucking love that guy. Next up is @rospit. I despise Ro, but at least he didn't try to kill me. We talked, he was To as Hell, and he left. Then @mskim313 pulled up on me with her friend Nika. It was a few hours from her birthday, so Kim wasn't drunk at all.

Not a bit. While all of this shit is going on, so is the show. Dez came to holla at me, and I couldn't hear shit b/c MoodyMan was on stage MoodyManning, but I'm sure that Dez was saying important stuff. Finally MaDukes appeared. This pic may look like she's kissing me on the cheek, but right before this photo was snapped, MaDukes had me in a UFC sanctioned headlock. She probably learned it from @kxngcrooked, who had tried to choke me out 10 years ago with MaDukes present. It's always a good time kicking it with MaDukes, then Jennifer made an appearance and reminded me that I was old AF. The show ended, I was gonna go holla @ Badu but I'd look like a Make A Wish kid getting in that line. I decided to leave and I was almost out, I almost made it, but Myrna left me parked and who do I see? @fatray1. Even worse, he saw me. At least he was with @tommyego so that made the encounter with Ray a little better. Not much, but a little. Myrna came back and we got TF on.

This is the only known photo of me and Ruck together.

This is at Studio One ( you're so stupid Dommy ) in Detroit. circa 2008.

This is from @allhiphopcom, 2015.

The editor is @chuckcreekmur, a fucking jerk.

Editor’s Note: this is hexmurda’s ode to Sean Price. Since he abhors editing, we decided to edit – ok, there is no edit. Despite this notion, hex still managed to spell “subdural hematoma” correctly in this piece. Go figure. RIP SEAN PRICE and thank you to hex for this touching, honest dedication. 

I’m not gonna sit here and run down his resume to you. I’m not a f###### history teacher.

If you don’t know who SEAN P is then you’re on the wrong site. You should be on TMZ.com reading about Tyga & Kylie.

If you don’t know about SEAN PRICE & his 20 YEARS in the game with the BOOT CAMP CLIK as a member of HELTAH SKELTAH with ROCK and as both a solo artist and as a member of RANDOM AXE along with GUILTY SIMPSON & BLACKMILK, you definitely clicked on the wrong s###.

Fam, if you’re wearing pants that make it hard for you to wear socks then please exit to the left in an orderly fashion.

If you think that Drake is a little too hardcore at times and you’re holding out hope that P.M. DAWN will make a comeback then this piece IS NOT for you. Take your f###### TrapperKeeper & your VanityFair mag with BruceJenner on the cover and GET THE F### OUT OF HERE.

S###.

OK, now that it’s just us, I can speak freely. Saturday the 8th was f##### up. One of the worst days of my f###### life. My dog Ruck passed. 8/8/15.

Fam, I don’t know how, I don’t even give a f###. He’s gone, that’s the bottom line. His funeral was today.

Today, my dog is in the ground.

Man, I’m so f###### sick of writing these kinds of f###### pieces. I wrote one for PROOF & DILLA, & one for BAATIN from Slum Village. Now here goes another one. I procrastinated all day Sunday as to how to approach this. I let my phone battery die while I watched “THE WALKING DEAD MARATHON”. I didn’t want to write this s###. I didn’t want to write a piece eulogizing my friend. I tried every plausible distraction I could without just saying “F### it, I won’t do it.” I posted on IG. I returned texts. I checked my email. I straightened up my shoes.

I straightened up my f###### shoes.

That’s how u know I was on some b#######.

I’ve been in a wheelchair the last 6 years.

Why do I even have shoes?

I watched some of the NFL game. Pretty soon it was just me & my dumb ass HTC M8. & thoughts of SEAN P. There’s a lot of pressure on me.

The entire borough of Brooklyn is like, “SON, U BETTA GET THIS RIGHT, NAHMEAN”. I wanna write some s### that Elijah Price & Shaun Price ( yup, this fool named his daughter “SHAUN” so he could call her Lil Shaun P ) can read in the future & say “NAIL MEET HEAD”. Plus I’m sure those BCC cats are going to be very interested in what I have to say. Last but certainly not least I have to face the wrath of BERNADETTE PRICE. If Bernadeezy hates this s### I’m f#####. Then I realized,I can tell how I met Ruck & how RandomAxe was formed, & a few stories about Ruck’s crazy-ass. I can’t f### up by telling a few PG-13 stories. I’m gonna start this trip down memory lane and you muthafuckas are coming with me.

Bear with me ya’ll, this ain’t easy. I could tell you a thousand stories about Ruck, but I’ll stick with three tour stories. Everybody who knew him has a story about him. He was like Proof in that aspect. If u met him u weren’t going to forget him, because he was sure to do something unforgettable.

Ok, where do I start?

The beginning is probably as good a place as any. I’m not starting back in ’93 when Buckshot dropped “WHO GOT THE PROPS”, I’m starting in ’05 when SEAN P dropped “MONKEY BARZ”.

In a roundabout way, SLUM VILLAGE is responsible for my relationship w/ Ruck, & therefore they’re sorta responsible for RANDOM AXE.

It went down like this…

THE ALPHA

It was 2005 & I was SLUM VILLAGE’s road manager at the time. We were in New York doing press & retail promo for their upcoming self-titled lp. The promo dudes we were with were BIZ & BROADWAY. I have no idea what we called Broadway back then but it sure as f### wasn’t Broadway. He picked that up when he moved to the Chi. So any f###### way it was time to leave NY & do the EastCoast run. First stop, Delaware. Biz gets the rental, he’s driving, & he’s banging some of the most brutal s### I’ve ever heard. This muthafucka’s bars were harder than adamantium. I didn’t say s###, I just listened. The f###### music was talking to me. It was saying, “Go f### somebody up.” Then all the way to D.C. from Delaware Biz got this dude in the deck barking at me. It was like there was a dog whistle in the beat, something only I could hear. Me & whoever the f### this was were on the same frequency.

I just felt like it was the greatest s### I ever heard & I was having a hard time keeping my composure. No melodies or muthafuckas sounding like Cylon robots & s###. Just straight primal beats & bars dipped in acid & dripping blood. Everybody else in the vehicle nodded their heads to the music but I could tell that they weren’t hearing it the way I heard it. The dude sounded kinda familiar, but I KNEW I hadn’t heard any s### like this before. Dog sounded like a feral animal trapped in a cage trying to get the f### out before the lp ended. This was some savage s###. I think on the way to Philly from D.C. I finally asked who the f### it was. “SEAN PRICE”, came the reply. Well, I KNEW that. He had said his name a million times. “Dude that use to be in HELTAH SKELTAH. Ruck.”

RUCK.

That’s where I heard that voice before. Fab5.

“LEFLOUR LEFLAH ESHKOSHKA,” HeltahSkeltah’s “NOCTURNAL” & “MAGNUM FORCE”. All joints I f##### with in the 90’s. I bad heard Rock’s unmistakable voice but i thought he was just doing cameos on some new dude’s s###.

“THAT’S Ruck? Let me see that cover.” He handed it over, a cover that had a cartoon rendering of Ruck in an astronaut suit fighting some apes with two bubbles that said “SEAN PRICE”.

I decided right then that I was was gonna find Mr.Price. One of my oldest friends & client, Guilty Simpson, had begun working on his debut LP w/ J.Dilla & I planned for Ruck to be on it. As I recall, I got at my man Dan Green over at Clockwork Music & asked him to connect me with DruHa who in turn told Sean P about my request. After he familiarized himself with Guilty’s music, be agreed to do the record. At some point during the coordinating to actually get the song done I started to talk to Ruck. It was like finding a long lost brother. Me & this guy would be on the phone talking s### for hours. Now this is where s### goes kinda left. I’m pretty sure Ruck sent the vocals for “RUN”, fairly quickly . I can’t recall when “MONSTER BABIES” got done or why. In 2006 both Proof & Dilla died so Guilty’s lp ended up being pushed back. We already had the “RUN” record in the can but I continued to talk to Ruck almost daily.

EPISODE I

Somehow or the other we got the bright idea to go on a European tour together. Guilty, BlackMilk, Ruck & Ruste Juxx as his hypeman. I was the road manager / DJ for this run. Basically it boiled down to babysitting, collecting money from the promoters & European tour manager, making sure we got everything we were promised, overseeing technical & stage s###, all around problem solving, and pushing play on the CDJ. Simple. Well, right from jump s### didn’t go as planned. First of all Ruck had like four CD’s for his set. Two for him, Ruste did two joints so he had a disc, & Black had “RUN” on a separate disc. And his disc wasn’t in order for the set he wanted to do. The songs were all over the place. I was jumping between discs & changing discs through the course of the show. I didn’t sign up for this s###. I was supposed to just push play & drink. Ruck had me up there like I was f###### DJ Q-Bert. We streamlined the show as we progressed & got it closer to the order on the disc. Also, Ruck HATED soundcheck. He NEVER went to soundcheck. It was usually just me & Black. Ruck would say, “F### that soundcheck s###, hex. The s### is gonna sound like it sounds. F### soundcheck.” He hated soundcheck so much he would try to stop me & Black from going. He didn’t give a f### about soundcheck because he was closing the show & he knew that any technical problems would be remedied by the time he got on.

So first show is Austria & its PACKED.

G.S. then Black, then Ruck. It’s going great. No mistakes. Ruck gets down to the last two songs, “PSYCHO WARD” & “RUN” is the finale, where all three emcees are supposed to are supposed to perform that joint together.

When “PSYCHO WARD” ends & G.S. & Black are about to get on stage, Ruck abruptly jumps off the stage like Spiderman into the already frenzied crowd & elbows his way through the mass of people trying to grab him, to the dressing room, giving out black eyes, chipped teeth & subdural hematomas along the way.

F##### some Austrians up.

The rest of us just stood on stage & watched him fight his way through the crowd. At one point I asked Ruste, “Is that n**** coming back?” Ruste just shrugged his shoulders. Eventually we made our way back to the dressing room & Ruck was sitting there calm as f### drinking a water. I asked him what the f### that was. He said, “I forgot about ‘RUN’, & I was tired of being on stage.”



SEAN PRICE, ladies & gentlemen.

EPISODE II

As a trio of underground artists, touring overseas is truly planes, trains, & automobiles. U might do three days in a van then take a flight. Then get back in a van for four days, then get on a ferry. Then take a train. All of this s### happens early as f### in the A.M.

It’s stressful & taxing & u don’t get much sleep. On top of all that s### the artists have to pull it together & perform that night.

It’s under these types of conditions that the next story takes place. We hopped on a train in France. Just us five. We were going somewhere else in France & it took 6 or 7 hours to get there and we were all looking forward to the opportunity to get some rest. It didn’t work out that way. Our tickets had all five of us packed in together like sardines. Ruck & BlackMilk decided to upgrade their seats because although most of the passenger cars were full there were some open seats in FirstClass. The seats were contingent on whether or not the people who had purchased them came on board during one of the train’s stops. Ruck & Black decided to take their chances & purchase the upgrade. They spent the whole train ride being awakened from their sleep & having to move to a new seat every time the train stopped. And we weren’t on an express train so we stopped 3 or 4 times. What was extra funny is that by Ruck & BlackMilk moving it gave me, Guilty, & Ruste a lot more room & we were comfortable in our seats.

When we finally reached our destination & disembarked from the train, Ruck was HOT. He was cussing up a storm & telling me to call DruHa to get him a plane ticket, he wanted to go home. I looked at him like he had a basketball for a head. He was CLOWNING. The French dude who came to pick us up walked over to us & just stood there w/ a stupid smile on his face while me & Sean P argued. The French guy didn’t speak any English but he could figure out that me & Ruck weren’t talking about soccer. We finally ended up getting in a (‘nother) van & I finally talked Ruck down off that ledge & convinced him to stay. He said that he would be cool, he just needed some sleep before that night’s ( early ) show. After we talked the guy drove, & everyone was dozing (it was about a 40 minute ride) before our driver made a turn & stopped quickly, jolting us all awake. He put the car in park, nodded, smiled, & unbuckled his seatbelt, indicating that we were at our destination. We all got out like zombies, not even looking at our surroundings. Then I heard Ruck yell, “THIS AINT THE F###### HOTEL!” I looked up, and we were in front of a graffiti covered building. The venue. It was about 4pm. The French dude spoke his first words, two sentences in broken English.

“No hotel. Ezz zoundjeck.”

Ruck f###### howled. “SOUNDCHECK?? F### SOUNDCHECK!!!! CALL DRU!!! I’M GOING HOME!!! F### THIS!!!!”

Everybody tried to keep a straight face & we got our s### & walked in the club, while Ruck was still outside cussing.

EPISODE III

Ok, last but not least we were in a club/bar in Germany, not that big, less than a 300 person capacity. The stage was low & the crowd was pretty close. Intimate setting. Lots of energy. The crowd was really into it. When the show was over, Ruck & I headed to the bar area & in less than a minute he was surrounded by fans wanting him to sign different items. Caps, shirts shoes, napkins, anything they could get their hands on. Ruck smiled & started signing. I’m black too so they also wanted my autograph. They don’t know. It soon became obvious that Ruck wasn’t signing “RUCK” or “SEAN P”. He was taking too long I took a peek & began to follow Ruck’s lead as we tried to out do each other. Patrons left that gig with items signed “BEN VEREEN”, “GREGORY HINES” “IDI AMIN”, ” SHERMAN HEMSLEY”, etc. Very few fans left w/ a “SEAN PRICE” autograph that night.

They could read English.They just didn’t give a f###.

Ruck was a f###### tool.

I’m gonna miss that guy.

I know you’re peeking.

R.I.P: A Sean Price Story: Conspiracy To Commit Murder On The Autobahn

3.17.72, the day the great

Sean Price was hatched.

In honor of Ruck's Birfday, i’ll tell a quick Sean Price story. I told this story before on Instagram but it was the Reader’s Digest abridged version.

This is the whole s###. I’ll call this one:

“CONSPIRACY TO COMMIT MURDER ON THE AUTOBAHN” or “DOG, YOU’RE TRIPPING.”

This s### is extra stupid, but it shows how Ruck could be furious & still hilarious at the same time.

It was 2007, on the THREE THE HARD WAY tour, featuring Sean Price, Guilty Simpson, & Black Milk, pre-Random Axe.

We were some-f######-where in Germany & we had an early lobby call so we could head to the next city. It was about 6 or 7 am when everybody started to come down to the lobby, dragging their bags & their feet.

I was already down there with our tour manager, Nils, this young German dude. I was sprawled on a chair, still drunk from the show the night before. We got up, went outside to the parking lot & started throwing luggage in the rear of the van. After Black’s slow-ass came straggling to the vehicle we were ready to go.

Nils was driving, I was in the passenger seat, Ruck & Rustee Juxx ( Ruck’s ‘hypeman’ ) were directly behind me with Guilty & Black Milk having the last two rows of seats to themselves. I popped in our advance bootleg copy of JayZ’s “American Gangster” CD & we were off.

Everybody was lethargic, but after a while everyone started waking up a little & talking s### as usual. This was 07 so somebody said “PAUSE” in the middle or at the end of every sentence. We ‘PAUSED’ the s### out of each other constantly. It was like a spoken punctuation.

You know what “PAUSE” is right? It’s used as a disclaimer when someone unwittingly says something that can be construed as h######### s###. Like if somebody says, “NAW, I AINT HIP TO THAT. FILL ME IN” or “DUMARS USE TO BE ALL OVER JORDAN. HIS ‘D’ WAS RIDICULOUS”.

That type of s### would get a “PAUSE.”

I know.

Juvenile as f###.

This is the type of environment this debacle takes place in.

First you gotta understand that English isn’t Nils first language & he doesn’t really understand all the nuances of it. He kind of just mimicked or repeated what we said without fully grasping what we meant. Ok, the scene is set. We were talking s### & Ruck said something benign like “I’M HUNGRY”.

Nils jumped on it.

This was his chance.

“PAWS!”, he yelled.

“Hehe, PAWS!”

He looked around at everyone in the van, kind of looking for approval. We got sort of quiet. We weren’t trying to be rude to Nils but to make that statement pauseworthy was a reach.

Suddenly Ruck leaned forward from the seat behind me. “Yo son, can u drive this van?”

I looked over at the driver seat, looked at the steering wheel, shift selector, pedals, etc. It was a normal set up. I didn’t know what Ruck had in mind but sure, I could drive the van.

“Yup”, I replied, curious as to why he asked me that.

“Good”, he said. “I’m gonna kill this n***a Nils, & we’re gonna dump his body on the side of the road. You can drive us to the next venue.”

Nils was white as a ghost. I kinda looked at Nils & shrugged. Then I turned around & looked at Ruck, searching his face for a hint of a smile or something that would tell me he was bullshitting. There was none. I realized that Sean Price was serious as f###.

“Dog, you’re tripping.” I said.

I mean, first of all we were in f###### Germany, I had no idea where we were going. Plus we were on the f###### Autobahn & cars were going past us at 200 f###### miles per hour. Oh yeah, & we aren’t gonna f###### kill Nils.

I cited all of these reasons to Ruck as to why his plan was a bad f###### idea. He finally relented but he growled at Nils, “YOU BETTER SHUT THE F### UP!”

Nils lived but he used minimal words the rest of the tour, especially around Sean Price. I think he loosened up later in the run but he didn’t get that f###### loose again. Ruck damn near rendered that man a mute.

Only Sean P could make a murder plot funny as f###.

(Funny in retrospect only, because this s### wasn’t that funny when it was happening. )

I really love & miss that dude.

Fuck a Blog

grab a beer. u could spend hours reading, watching & laughing at this shit. AND hopefully hex'll keep giving us the ish so we can keep updating it. fuck a blog.

Here we go again...One Night In Norway

(Written by Hex, kept safe on @houseshoes' myspace blog)

"Here we go again...One Night In Norway"

I was fuking horrible @ geography in school.

I have no fuking idea where the hell Norway is.

All I know is, it's FAR AS HELL, we took 4 planes to get there, & for one night, Kristiansand,Norway was the HipHop capitol of the world.

It seems like a nigga always has to go half a world away to make it home. And for that ONE NIGHT, Kristiansand,Norway was HOME.

It was the home for HipHop & it reminded me of how I felt the first time I heard the SugarHillGang, "TheMessage" or "It's Like That". It gave me the same feeling I got when I saw "BeatStreet" for the first time.

You know that feeling don't you? The feeling you get when you realize that you're witnessing a life-changing event?

The feeling that made you tell your mama, "Fuck a bike for my

b-day, Ma. I want a boom-box, & as many rap tapes as you can get me."

Yeah. You know. And you know the feeling you got when you finally got that big-ass fucking JVC (even if it wasn't for your b-day) & those RunDMC, FatBoys, & Whodini tapes that you played so much the words faded off tha damn cassette within the first two weeks.

Well, it was like my muthafuking birfday in Norway, my niggas.

I'm not gonna walk you thru tha concerts & shit, you guys know how the festivals go, weird performances, OK performances, & great performances from some of your favorite artists & some artists you've probably never heard of.

I'm gonna tell you about a party.

A party in fuking Norway, which I'm convinced is the most blond-haired, blue-eyed place on the planet (side note: no offense to anyone of the caucasian persuasion, but I was standing on the corner under an awning taking refuge from the rain, & two people approached me & asked me for coke. (SIGH) I guess some things never change no matter how far you are from the hood.

So I served them. Sike).

Anyway, we walk into this party, & head to the VIP bar. Some dude is playing some fuking "trance" music or whatever that shit's called, & it's packed in that muthafuka. PACKED. Almost every black person in the club is crowded into the VIP area. Mixed drinks, beers, a few bottles get popped, niggas are chillin'.

In goddamn Norway.

W/ niggas heads unconsciously doin' tha sideways bob like the dudes from "Night At The Roxbury". Fuking trance music.

Suddenly, the vibe changes. Is somebody playin' "ShookOnes"?

What the fuck? & who the hell is that on the mic, shouting niggas out & damn near inciting a riot? Voice sounds familiar.

Cats start getting up & squeezing their way thru the crowd, heading towards the stage.

?uestlove is the best fuking DJ in the world.

Sorry, MarkRonson.

No disrespect, D-Nice, Houseshoes, Dez, Babu. DJ AM. Yeah, ?uest had that muthafuka off the hook. On some HipHop shit. & when he took a break, DJ Chaps stepped right on in, & like Jesus turning water into wine-he kept tha party goin'.

In fuking Norway.

I guess this is the part where I tell who the partygoers were. And I do mean PARTYING, not posted in the VIP w/ sunglasses on,trying to see who could out-cool each other,but on the stage & on the dance floor doin' the fuking Wop (& in some cases the ErrolFlynn).

In no particular order, JeanGrae, Frank-N-Dank, KillerMike, BlackMilk, TalibKweli, PhillyFrank,Damon,& Kirk from the Roots, EfremJenkins, Sarah, & BlackThought. While ?uest & Chaps spun that real HipHop shit.

Dog, I felt like I was IN BeatStreet.

Or @ least on it.

In fukin' Norway.

Oh, I didn't tell you who the host w/ tha most was. Tha dude on the mic rockin' the party from coast to coast (whatever the fuck you call Norway's coast).

Tony Fuking Yayo.

Yeah, nigga. THAT TonyYayo.

The TalkOfNewYork himself.

The dude that arguably 95% of tha cats on this board probably hate on @ least once a year, maybe even twice.

This nigga got into the DJ booth, commandeered the mic, & set it off like KoolHerc.

You wanna know about surreal shit? You ever hear TonyYayo say,

"My nigga BlackMilk in the muthafukin' building!"

Yeah, that'll make a nigga go, "Where tha hell r we again?"

Fuking Norway.

"Frank-n-Dank in the house, LegendaryRoots band, TalibKweli! Brooklyn's in the house! Queens in the house! Detroit in this muthafuka! Philly in the house! KillerMike, ATL! 'CURTIS', September 11! G-Unit!"

Always reppin' his dog & his crew. Man, I fuking love that nigga TonyYayo.

Yeah, & the party's jumpin' like the 1st time u heard "IN DA CLUB" in the club. 6foot blonde broads everywhere, exotic "Disney" lookin' females, some twins from the Norwegian national gymnastics team. IT WAS CRACKIN'.

Real HipHop. Real live HipHop niggas TOGETHER, partyin'. Everybody yellin' "AAAAAYYYYYY!!!" w/ KillerMike when ?uest dropped that Outkast joint. The whole crowd doin' the ErrolFlynn along w/ FnD & BlackMilk when that classic Dilla or Slum shit came on. Everybody dancin' to each others shit, recitin' the lyrics word for word. No airs. No entourages, no fake shit. This shit would probably never happen in the States. Just abuncha niggas 10 trillion miles from home celebrating & loving the music that got them there. For one night, some of the most critically acclaimed names in HipHop were fans again. The Roxy, TheTunnel, St.AndrewsHall,TheRhythmKitchen, GoodLife (LA). For one night, the vibes of all those spots converged into some club in the Land of Vikings whose name I can't remember (TheHollywood?) & kinda brought 88 back.

In a crucial time where people are declaring our beloved music dead & HipHop is in everyone's crosshairs like the PE logo,it was like the first time all over again.

I wish you guys could have been there.

I feel so blessed that I was.

Fuking Norway.

So how was your week?

First of all, this shirt reminds me of the county jail. So, as you can see, I was in the hospital AGAIN, with fucking pneumonia AGAIN. Y'all know I go from "I'M FEELING JUST FINE" to "DEATHLY ILL" quick fast in a hurry. It all started last Saturday when I couldn't breathe. Everytime I tried it was like a 30 ft tall Leonidas was dropkicking me in the solar plexus. I called @rhowel72 to take me to the hospital. On the way to get me he called me, I was sleep & missed the call. This mf thinks I'm dying and calls 911. Two different sets of fucking paramedics show up, about to knock my fucking door down. I got to the door just in time. They took out a blood pressure cuff & a heart monitor, did some paramedic shit & I insisted that I was fine. They tried to get me to go to the hospital & I refused. By that time my cousin showed up, but I was better. I convinced him I was Ok & that was that. Fast forward to Sunday morning & Leonidas is back, but this time he was jumping up & down on my chest and screaming "THIS IS SPARTA" on repeat. @aplusashley video called me, saw how I looked & sounded & said, & I quote; "WHAT TF IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

Whatever. There was no™ time to explain, I was getting my die on. I called Reggie, he wanted to send an ambulance. NO™. I'll just die. Then I decided to call Ra. He got his black ass up & took me to Harper Hospital. BTW, him AND @rhowell72 live in Southfield, I live in Detroit by the city airport. It takes almost as long for them to get to my house as it takes to drive from Detroit to Toledo.

I almost fucking died waiting on this mf.

I know, I know, I should have just got in an ambulance, but y'all don't understand. The last time I got in an ambulance it was September 13th of 2009. When I woke up it was late October of 2009. Fuck those ambulances.

Anyway, Ra takes me to Harper ER & they diagnose me with pneumonia, AGAIN. Fuck. Now last time I got pneumonia in 2020 I had emergency lung surgery and the doctor told me & my cousin "YEAH, YOU GET SICK AGAIN & I CANT FIX YOU."

Color me worried.

So this doctor started me on a antibiotic drip & admitted me. I believe his exact words were "WELL, LET'S SEE HOW THIS GOES."

Inspiring.

BTW, evidently COVID is back with a fury b/c the patients helped fill up the damn hospital & I had to stay in an ER bay for three days. The only cool part is I had an OT who stole me these green scrubs, b/c I refused to do the open-ass hospital gown.

Nope.

I took all my tests and shit from the basement and I even had to deal with some dumbass lady smoking next to me.

You "heard" me.

This fucking goofball was visiting her mama & smoking a fucking square.

In the hospital emergency room.

I've basically got one working lung & I gotta smell this broad's fucking Virginia Slims.

O, did I mention that I was three days no™ food while they did their CAT scans & shit?

Good times.

During all this shit they're taking blood & vitals & hooking me up to IVs all day. The hospital is NOT where you go to rest. They finally told me why they were fucking with me; my gall bladder was inflamed and they had seen a shadow on it. I didn't pull up complaining about my gall bladder, this was some other shit

These MFs just wanted to cut me.

They finally get me a room & send me upstairs on Tuesday.

The room was cool, but I was making progress the wrong way. I was moving further inside the hospital & I was trying to get TF on. I kept asking the nurse why they were holding me, I told them that I felt 100% better. They still ran more tests, remember, they had seen a "shadow" on one of the CAT scans. In better news, they were finally letting me eat. Then they fucked up. I was sleeping in-between getting fucked with & I woke & saw that someone had left me a lunch tray on my tray table. I opened it & has taken two bites of mashed potatoes when my nurse came in like, "WHAT TF ARE YOU DOING? YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO EAT TIL AFTER YOUR TEST". Another fucking test. I didn't know, that was on hospitality. I sighed as she took the tray & right on cue a transport guy appeared, ready to take me to TEST #934. I still didn't know what it was for. So I go downstairs to get on another semi-table connected to some other fucking machine & the tech stops me. "HAVE YOU EATEN ANYTHING IN THE PAST 4 HOURS?"

I nodded. Don't these fucking people talk to each other? They had a fucking fit. They started cursing and calling my nurse, my doctor and hospitality to find out who had given me a plate. After all that drama they came to me and said, "YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO EAT," he was looking at me like it was my fault. "WE GOTTA DO THE TEST TOMORROW." I looked at him like he had a Transformer body with a Papa Smurf head. "WHO? WHO'S TAKING THE TEST TOMORROW?" I said pointing to the other tech. "HIM? BECAUSE IT WONT BE ME. I WONT BE HERE."

He started to say some bullshit, but he stopped in the middle of his spiel and called the doctor. They talked for about two minutes, hung up, then the tech got me a transport guy to push me back to my room.

About 15 minutes later the nurse came in with my discharge papers.

I called my cousin and after four fucking hours I was home.

I wrote this last year, the day after Chadwick Boseman passed.

CHADWICK BOSEMAN

11/29/76 - 8/28/2020

Talk about punching the wrong clock.

THE BLACK MUTHAFUCKING PANTHER FUCKING DIED YESTERDAY, Y'ALL.

Now it all makes sense. When we saw pictures of him not looking quite like himself, now we know that our hero was going through some shit. Cancer. Nature's own population control. Man, fuck cancer & fuck 2020 & fuck everything.

BLACK MUTHAFUCKING PANTHER DIED. I mean man, I know Chadwick was an actor. I know that he portrayed iconic historical black figures like Thurgood Marshall, Jackie Robinson & James Brown. Those were real, larger than life people. Black Panther was a 2 dimensional comic character from the 60's that Boseman brought to life. It wasn't just another character in the MCU either. While white people had SPIDERMAN, IRON MAN, THE HULK, CAPTAIN AMERICA, THOR, ANT-MAN & DR.STRANGE, we had NICK FURY, an old black guy with a big gun who got his eye scratched out by a cat. Black Panther hovered around the universe, biding his time, laying in the cut. Getting in a few squabs here & there, showcasing his skills. Letting muthafuckas know that he wasn't a second tier character, he wasn't just a token to make the Avengers more Benetton & less Ambercrombie & Fitch. Then Ryan Coogler & young Chadwick connected and reintroduced us to T'Challa & introduced us to the wonderful world of Wakanda. Remember that shit ya'l!? Wakanda was everyfuckingwere. 50 year old's were crossing their arms in front of them & saying "WAKANDA FOREVER!" It was like another way of saying "I'M BLACK & I'M PROUD!" (a staple of the Godfather Of Soul, also played by Chadwick). We finally had a feature film with a guy who looked like us doing the majority of the ass-kicking.

What a time to be alive.

That fictional character inspired alot of people. It got me to thinking about all the hard losses we've shared in the culture. TUPAC, BIG, DILLA, SEAN PRICE, NIPSEY, ROBIN HARRIS, BERNIE MAC, MICHAEL JACKSON, LUTHER, ARETHA, WHITNEY, PRINCE, KOBE etc Rarefied air.. ICONIC. Black Panther belongs there too, & Chadwick Boseman is Black Panther.

THE BLACK MUTHAFUCKING PANTHER FUCKING DIED YESTERDAY, Y'ALL.

Does the National Anthem and the Amerikkkan flag truly represent you?

That shit doesn’t represent me.

The flag was adopted by Amerikkka in 1777 and the national anthem was written by Francis Scott Key in 1814. What were people that look like me doing in 1777 and 1814? Picking cotton, getting whipped, raped, and hung from trees. That’s what my ancestors were doing when Old Glory started flapping in the wind.

That’s what my people’s lives looked like when Francis Scott Key wrote the ‘Star-Spangled Banner’. Key was even kind enough to remind us of it in the third stanza.

“And where is that band who so vauntingly swore,

That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion

A home and a Country should leave us no more?

Their blood has wash’d out their foul footstep’s pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave

From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave,

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.”

Yup, there’s your hidden third verse. The verse they don’t sing. The verse that people act like doesn’t exist. That’s it.

“No refuge could save the hireling and slave

From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave.” So what in the fuck is that supposed to mean? Is that supposed to mean “If you’re a slave and if you run there’s nowhere to hide, we’ll find you and kill you”?

Oh.

Happy Second Birfday to me!!!

Today I turn 10 years old.

This is the 10 year anniversary of the day I almost fucking croaked, but I like to look at it as my second birthday.

My Second Chance birthday.

10 years ago I got loaded into an ambulance and took the longest fucking ride of my life. Sometimes I feel like I'm still in that fucking ambulance, headed to the hospital so they can put Hexty Dumpty back together again. Sometimes it seems like I never reached William Beaumont Hospital, like I never spent three months there, or that they didn't get to repair everything that was wrong with me. The job was incomplete, they forgot something. Some days I feel like pulling up on the Willie B and screaming out the window, "MY LEG, MUTHAFUCKA!!! U FORGOT TO FIX MY ARM AND MY LEG!!!"

But other days I wake up, thankful to do just that. I thank God, take my pills, and get prepared to start my day. Granted, my days are ALOT different now, but I still cherish these boring 24 hours. Actually, I take that back. There's absolutely NOTHING boring about breathing, I understand that now. I may be getting a little ahead of myself for people who have no idea who I am, or what the fuck I'm talking about. I'll give u the short version; Detroit HipHop aficionado and well known idiot doesn't take blood pressure pills, has pontine stroke that has a 7% survival rate (conversely it has a 93% kill rate), goes into coma, wakes up to doctor's surprise, can't talk or walk, confined to a wheelchair for the next 10 years, and here we are. It's a little more nuanced than that, but that's the gist.

You can read ALL about the blood and guts of the situation on a different post on my tumbler.

This is about

Second Chances.

Yup, everybody likes Second Chances.

Like when you go to court and by some fucking miracle u get probation, when your sentencing guidelines were 1-5.

Second Chance.

Or when you and your special friend get into that argument that goes nuclear, and you hang up, positive that it's over, and even more positive that it's your fault.

Then the phone rings or you swallow your pride and call back, then you realize the argument wasn't as bad as you thought.

You work through it.

Second Chance.

Or maybe your team has a 4th and goal from the 16. Your QB throws the fade in the corner of the endzone to the WR who promptly drops the ball. The crowd yields a collective groan, but there's a flag on the field.

Defensive pass interference in the endzone.

Ball placed at the one yard line, 1st down.

Second Chance.

Well, the biggest referee that there is threw a flag on the biggest play of my life. It was fourth and a mile, my QB had fumbled the ball, the other team had recovered, and God called a defensive hands to the face. 5 yard penalty, 1st down

A Second Chance.

If anybody is lost reading all these football analogies, trust me. That particular situation is highly unlikely to occur. So there I was in a coma, basically dead and God gave me a reprieve. I'm trying to stress to y'all when I say basically "DEAD" I mean DEAD. They were deciding what kind of casket they were going to put me in, my kid's mothers were picking out a black Dickie suit for me.

It was just a matter of time.

For whatever reason, it wasn't MY time.

I survived.

Shit was like getting an extra man on a video game.

A bonus life, literally.

I ain't 100%, but I'm alot more alive than some of these muthafuckas out in the street. I don't know what's wrong with these dudes, too familiar with living, smiling while they chase death for shits and giggles, chuckles and laughs..

Well, I've met Death. Believe me when I tell you that there were no smiles, giggles, chuckles, or laughs involved. That's a serious business meeting, as serious as your life is.

Before I had my stroke

I was living wild as fuck, so God had me take a seat for a minute. He / She needed to,

I was out of fucking control. I sat in this goddamn wheelchair depressed as fuck, when I started to figure some shit out.

I thought about all the people I lost in the past 10 years, and I knew I had to do better. Poncho, Baatin, Cobb, SeanP (now my man Dave NewYork too) and the guys that weren't into music, like my man Harv and Artie. Include Proof and Dilla and they were all better people than me.

All gone.

And I almost joined them.

I didn't know why those guys were gone, or why I was still here. I just know that I had been given a Second Chance, and I had to make it count. I thought about one of the vocal samples from Black Milk's "SUNDAY'S BEST / MONDAY'S WORST". "Its never too late / to get your life straight."

So I got to it.

Yeah, I'm still in a wheelchair but I ain't giving up. I'm so far from perfect that I'm still only about two inches away from "FUCKED ALL THE WAY THE FUCK UP", but I'm moving in the right direction. It's unfortunate that I couldn't see the proverbial "LIGHT" while I was still standing, but at least I finally saw it. I want other people to see it. Trust me, I'm not talking about God or religion or anything like that here.

Fuck no.

I'm a card carrying heathen and I know that I gotta atone for a lot of shit. I have a loooooooooong way to go to even become a halfway decent human being. Now, don't get me wrong, God is as real as you or me, I can attest to that. That's a conversation that most people aren't ready to have so I'll just leave it there.

Naw, I'm just talking about self-awareness.

Take care of yourself, do a real self-audit and leave all the bullshit behind you. Trust yourself.

If you think some shit is detrimental to your happiness, then it probably is.

Cut that shit off like a zombie-bitten limb. If something is toxic to you and it hurts your soul, then fuck that shit. Walk away from it and don't look back.

I don't know how many times I have to tell you fuckers; this ain't a dress rehearsal. This life shit is live not Memorex so you better figure it out. I'm just telling you this so you won't have to be sitting in a fucking wheelchair before you realize it, like me.

10 fucking years.

I've been in this chair for 10 fucking years, but you know what? I ain't dead. 10 years ago today I could have died. Walking or sitting, this shit is just bonus time for me.

I reached my expiration date on September 13, 2009.

I ain't supposed to be here. I was EXTREMELY lucky, like hitting the Lotto twice.

I got a Second Chance.

Don't fuck up your first chance, so u won't need a second one. Remember, "IT'S NEVER TOO LATE TO GET YOUR LIFE STRAIGHT"

"HEX'S DAY OUT"

I got some 'splaining to do. My eldest kid's (@kdhatesinsta) mother couldn't get my groceries yesterday. She usually picks up my groceries every two weeks like clockwork, so me being a man & also stupid, I only get enough food for exactly 14 days. U know, b/c I'm smart. I called my cousin @rhowell72 & he said he would come take me to Kroger after he softball game. If u know about grown folks playing softball then u know they do more drinking than softball playing. Keep that in mind, I'll be coming back to it. @terrilynntee came over & brought me a chicken salad so I didn't starve. Dickface comes to get me at 9 pm, when his last game is over. They play double headers; keep that in mind too. This would be my first time going out where I wasn't going to a club, concert, or the doctor. I was excited to just go do some normal shit. We get to Kroger, we go in, & I see these wonderful little scooters. Automatically I think, "I'M STEALING ONE". Of course I get on one. Now, I haven't been grocery shopping since Riley's Mama was pregnant with her. That was 10 fucking years ago. I had no™ fucking idea what I was doing or where I was going. Also remember, I was on that motorized scooter. I might as well have been in a fucking tank. First of all, they should make u take driver's training before u get on one of those. Look, I only have one working eye, I was a fucking menace on that thing. I used that muthafucka like a go cart. Better yet, I used it like a bumper car. I wasn't exactly playing demolition derby in it, but I wasn't exactly NOT playing demolition derby either. I only ran into one lady tho. Hit her manual cart hard as fuck. Fucking pedestrian, she should have gotten out of the damn street. My cousin was grabbing shit & throwing it in the basket for me. He was a big fucking help - he also was unexpected comedy relief. At one point I asked him to grab some Twizzlsrs for me (I also discovered Hershey chocolate Twizzlers = Life). Anyway, this fool kept dropping the Twizzlers.

I asked him, "MAN, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH U?"

He looked at me, glassy eyed and swaying unsteadily & said, "IM DRUNK, N***A. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???" I hadn't noticed, but when I looked at Reg

I realized that he was smashed. He always drives like he's on the fucking Autobahn anyway so I wasn't paying attention on our ride to the store. He had more to say. "DOG, I'VE BEEN DRINKING SINCE 11:30 THIS MORNING, I'M FUCKED UP!" Needless to say, we got the fuck out of there & our exit was pretty uneventful. My cart did lose power in the dairy aisle, but the shit recharged & we made it out. We didn't end up stealing the cart, but now I'm sold on that motorized shit, @sugababy517 told me that they ruled. @kidrock offered to buy me a motorized wheelchair in 2012 & I declined. I changed my mind. Hey Bob, hook me up. I'll throw some

"FUCK TRUMP" stickers on the chair & make it street legal. Anyway, so that was "HEX'S DAY OUT".

"HEX'S DAY OUT"

I got some 'splaining to do. Yesterday my oldest kid's (@kdhatesinsta) mother couldn't get my groceries yesterday. She usually picks up my groceries every two weeks like clockwork, so me being a man & also stupid, I only get enough food for exactly 14 days. U know, b/c I'm smart. I called my cousin @rhowell72 & he said he would come take me to Kroger after he softball game. If u know about grown folks playing softball then u know they do more drinking than softball playing. Keep that in mind, I'll be coming back to it. @terrilynntee came over & brought me a chicken salad so I didn't starve. Dickface comes to get me at 9 pm, when his last game is over. They play double headers; keep that in mind too. This would be my first time going out where I wasn't going to a club, concert, or the doctor. I was excited to just go do some normal shit. We get to Kroger, we go in, & I see these wonderful little scooters. Automatically I think, "I'M STEALING ONE". Of course I get on one. Now, I haven't been grocery shopping since Riley's Mama was pregnant with her. That was 10 fucking years ago. I had no™ fucking idea what I was doing or where I was going. Also remember, I was on that motorized scooter. I might as well have been in a fucking tank. First of all, they should make u take driver's training before u get on one of those. Look, I only have one working eye, I was a fucking menace on that thing. I used that muthafucka like a go cart. Better yet, I used it like a bumper car. I wasn't exactly playing demolition derby in it, but I wasn't exactly NOT playing demolition derby either. I only ran into one lady tho. Hit her manual cart hard as fuck. Fucking pedestrian, she should have gotten out of the damn street. My cousin was grabbing shit & throwing it in the basket for me. He was a big fucking help - he also was unexpected comedy relief. At one point I asked him to grab some Twizzlsrs for me (I also discovered Hershey chocolate Twizzlers = Life). Anyway, this fool kept dropping the Twizzlers.

I asked him, "MAN, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH U?"

He looked at me, glassy eyed and swaying unsteadily & said, "IM DRUNK, N***A. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???" I hadn't noticed, but when I looked at Reg

I realized that he was smashed. He always drives like he's on the fucking Autobahn anyway so I wasn't paying attention on our ride to the store. He had more to say. "DOG, I'VE BEEN DRINKING SINCE 11:30 THIS MORNING, I'M FUCKED UP!" Needless to say, we got the fuck out of there & our exit was pretty uneventful. My cart did lose power in the dairy aisle, but the shit recharged & we made it out. We didn't end up stealing the cart, but now I'm sold on that motorized shit, @sugababy517 told me that they ruled. @kidrock offered to buy me a motorized wheelchair in 2012 & I declined. I changed my mind. Hey Bob, hook me up. I'll throw some

First and foremost, let's get the names right. Baatin used to go by the names Motobot, Eazy T, and Scandalous T (among others). He finally settled on "Baatin," which is Arabic for "hidden." As a member of Slum Village, Baatin was the designated wild card.  You never knew what Baatin was gonna do. Sometimes his rhymes... well... they didn't rhyme. Other times, they didn't even make sense to us but Baatin knew exactly what he was talking about. Somehow he worked within the Slum Village machine, his voice and message meshing and blending with T3 and Jay Dee's into a perfect harmony. You waited on Baatin's verse, wondering what the hell he was going to say this time (at least I did). Baatin was always a little left of center (actually a lot left of center). But he always seemed comfortable in his own skin. Whether he was at St. Andrew’s Hall wearing a shirt that said “N@&+er,” dancing by himself, wearing a Chinese coolie hat, or a turban, he was always just him. But soon he wasn't himself (even by his standards). After SV's Trinity: Past, Present, & Future album, he was hospitalized due to mental health issues and received a termination letter from the group due to his increasingly erratic behavior.  This was especially sad because Baatin had laid what was one of his most memorable verses on the song "Get Live," when he spit his opening bars in Hebrew. That defined him, as well as his famous line on "Fall-N-Love" off Fan-Tas-Tic Vol. II.  

"Fuck this rap shit, I’ll listen to classical,” said Baatin. Baatin was embittered towards the group and began calling himself Baatin: The Slumlord, working on a project titled Slumlord. Baatin struggled with not only with mental illness but also with drug addiction but he never stopped making music. At one point around 2006, he seemed to have gotten a grip on things and started easing his way back into the fold. He did a few shows with Slum Village and appeared on a variety of songs with Black Milk: "Marvelous," "Magic," "Eternal,” Havana's “New Dance Show” and "Scandal" off BR Gunna's Dirty District 3 mixtape. Black Milk even got the band back together for 2007's "Action" on his Popular Demand album. It was a feat that was also attempted three years earlier on Slum Village's Detroit Deli (2004) "Reunion" track. That was supposed to feature all four current and past members of Slum Village. Dilla, T3 and Elzhi showed up, but Baatin was glaringly absent. Elzhi took issue to that and used his verse to voice his displeasure. El's 16 on what was supposed to be a unifying song laid bare the group's wounds and drew battle lines. After Dilla passed in ’06, animosity began to dissipate; they were all on the Black Milk track together in ’07, and by ’08 it was all water under the bridge. Baatin was also very transparent. He told the Detroit Metro Times in 2007 about his struggles with schizophrenia, bipolarism, and crack cocaine.

The surviving members of Slum started to tour again, appearing at Rock the Bells and a run with Slaughterhouse. By the end of July of 2009, that all came to an end. Titus Glover (or "Teezy" as we called him) was gone, a victim of a drug-related death. Baatin was a good dude. He was a great artist and an even better person. He had more demons than most because I think he was touched by angels and the demons didn't like that. They fought hard for his soul and he fought back. He's gone now but his vocals are still here. Remember him if you listen to rap or classical.

10/2/1973 DeShaun Dupree Holton

"PROOF"

That guy loved the fuck out of the color orange.

Miss u, dog.

PROOF R.I.P. I have alot of stories about Proof. Unfortunately they're all finite. This is the saga of Proof & My Tree. They had a complicated relationship, to say the least. Proof did some legendary shit, & alot of that shit u wouldn't believe. This says it all, & as usual it's 200% true…

One day Proof & his right hand man 1st Born came over my crib. They brought some Corona’s & we sat on the porch talking shit & drinking beer. I saw my brother driving on the other side of the island & said, ” There goes Ra”. Suddenly Proof lept off the porch & ran & clambered up the tree in my yard like a little spidermonkey. I found out later that his intention was to jump on my brother’s head. Me & 1st yelled at him, while my brother made the turn around the island towards my house. “Dog, what the fuck are you doing?” I yelled as he inched out on a limb. My brother parked & got out his truck looking up at Proof quizzically while he hung upside down from my tree limb. Suddenly the limb snapped & Proof came crashing down on his back & laid there for a second still clutching the tree limb. Everybody was too stunned to speak. We didn’t say shit, we just stared at Proof, lying on the grass holding that broken limb. He didn’t say shit either, he just laid there. Finally I said, “You ok, dog?” When I broke the silence, Proof jumped into action.

He bit my tree.

I repeat, he bit my tree.

This crazy muthafucka BIT my tree.

Then he yelled, “1st! Lets go”. Proof grabbed the wayward piece of tree, threw it in the back of his gray Yukon, & jumped in the driver’s seat, starting the vehicle while 1st climbed in the passenger side. My brother & I watched, confused, as they backed out of my driveway at a high speed. For some reason I ran to my ride & chased after them. I have no idea why. The word ” STUPID” comes to mind. The 96 freeway was right by my house & we both jumped on it, beading East. Two Yukon trucks, my older model & his newer flying down the freeway weaving in & out of traffic. At one point 1st pushed the damn branch out onto the road. Luckily I and the cars behind me avoided the limb & averted disaster. I chased Proof all the way to the East side, to Kilbourne & Gratiot. Dogmatic’s crib, where Sicknotes studio was. We laughed about that stupid-ass Dukes of Hazard bullshit we just did and drank some more beer & talked more shit on into the night. Little did I know that this tree debacle was just beginning.

Later that night around 3am I was in my house when I heard gunshots. Close gunshots. Like REAL close. In my front yard close. I grabbed my heater & peeked out my window & made out two figures. Proof & 1st Born. One of them knocked & I flew down the steps & flung open my front door. “What the fuck are ya’ll doing?” Proof grinned at me. “Me & your tree are beefing”, he said. “So I shot it”.

Fucking Proof.

He took this tree beef shit serious too. He attacked my man Marvwon’s bushes because he said that they were down with my tree. He sent me a fucking postcard from Norway talking shit about trees. & he didn’t just shoot my tree that one time. He shot it ALL the time. One time I had some chick over & there it went. ” POW! POW! POW!” The woman was startled. ” What the fuck! Is somebody shooting on your porch?” “Calm down”, I replied. “That’s just Proof shooting my tree.” Needless to say that was the last time I saw her.

Fucking Proof. .

That’s only 1 story, I probably have over a 100 more. Everybody who knew him has a couple Proof stories in the chamber. This is one of my personal favorites. I just wanted to share that shit w/ u guys so u could get past all that 1/6 of D12, 1/3 of 5 Ela & The Goon Sqwad, 1/2 of Promatic & Funky Cowboy & T-Stuckey’s man shit. Proof was 1/1. U know how I said that Proof was THE MAN STANDING NEXT TO THE MAN? Those who didn’t know him might see it that way, but he was THE MAN to me.

I miss that dude.

Happy Belated Birfday Ad!!! ( @the_bruthahood ) Ad is one of those dudes that I don’t even know where or how I met him. I don’t even know how long I’ve known this fuck. I just remember him coming over my crib in his little red convertible w/ his Kickerbox banging Big’s “JUICY”. Then it was 40 oz’s & blunts time. Hey, it was the ‘90’s, St.Ides & Reggies was the move. EVERY. FUCKING. DAY. I used to go hangout with him in his hood, over on Greenlawn. I met ALL the crooks over there. This is actually the guy who told me to start managing artists; he said I was built for it. I was reluctant to say the least. I just wanted to sell drugs & shoot at people my whole life. After a short vacation, I decided to try Ad’s suggestion. Turns out that he was correct, I took to managing these bastards like a fish to water. Whatever, even a broken clock is right twice a day. U know I got a story about him. One day, around 10 am he came over to The House Of Random Felonies on Steel. I think me & @seanmarshall4772, & this other dude named Shawn were already there. I was selling weed, we were all smoking weed, talking shit, & playing dominoes. Ad was sitting right across from me w/ his back to the door. I had a brand new Glock 19 I had just bought from my cousin ArtieR.I.P, & it was right on the table next to me. I was talking about how I “WISH A N**** WOULD” & “THE POLICE CAN GET IT TO” & all types of other dumb shit. Then Shawn said, “IS THAT THE RAID V–’ Before he could finish his sentence the shotgun man was in the house, followed by the rest of the raid team. They started yelling all kinds of cop shit; "FREEZE!!!’ "HANDS UP!!!”, “DON’T MOVE!!!” “I’LL SHOOT ALL OF U MUTHAFUCKAS!!!” While they’re doing all this yelling & shit, everybody has their hands up but me. I’m the only person looking at the police head on, I could see all of them. Ad was sitting directly across from me, with his back to the door. The police were fanned out all behind him, basically all of the guns were pointed in Ad’s direction.

Except one.

I still had the Glock 19 next to my right hand. I was looking at it. thinking “I GOT 17 SHOTS, THERE ARE ONLY ABOUT 10 OF THEM”. In my defense, this is when I had braids w/ ducky & rabbit barrettes in my hair & carried a razor blade in my mouth.

I was insane.