Kendrick Lamar made me a believer

I was a skeptic maybe it’s time to believe. I didn’t believe in Lupe Fiasco when I first heard him but then started loving his music. I liked swimming pools but thought overall Kendrick was very good, but overhyped. After listening to this song ‘Bitch don’t mess up my high’ I have to say I understand the hype.

Kendrick Lamar – Hovefestivalen 2012 (Photo credit: NRK P3)

 

Hip Hop is still alive.The Best Cypher on BET ever.

I didn’t need this cypher to prove to me Mcing was still alive, but it puts a smile on my face, because it reinforces what I already knew. Hip Hop has always been alive–music has always been alive, art is still alive. Because no matter how disastrous the music industry becomes after art collides with commerce there will always be the few willing to buck the trend. There will always be people who aren’t too cool for their craft of art, dance, singing, poetry, writing, songwriting/emceeing. Real Hip-hop cypher between real lyricists. All nasty. I have shivers this was amazing it was glorious it was Emceeing at it’s finest. Beastmode. It was impetuous, brilliant wordplay, it was scary, it was harmful to wack rapper’s bank account, it was…………

Sun Rise

I made a video using the best Show on television.

One of the realest posts ever.

People underestimate the crack epidemic on the black community and the ramifications of negligent drug policies. Here Killer Mike aka Mike Bigga breaks down the harsh realities of having a mother, a guardian, a relative addicted to a powerful substance. Through it all he was able to make it through and become successful at something few people could hope to achieve. That’s why I was always a fan of the dungeon family, killer Mike(Mike Bigga) OUtkast, goodie Mob et al. They represent the true story of Atlanta, and to a greater extent, the human experience of people. They form a collective of talented individuals with unique styles and talents but still represented Hip-Hop to the fullest. One could listen to Mike, Outkast, goodie mob, cee-lo and them and get a feel for the south. Now we got these ………………….oh never mind just read the post. I promise a well-written and inspirational read to those who do. Peace.

My Thoughts on Mothers, Sons, Love & Addiction by Mike Bigga

That B.B. King lyric cuts deep! I grew up in the crack era. I grew up
�in the actual crack era, not the one you always hear rappers rap about
where they were all rich and knew Pablo, Papi, Hector or some other
random Spanish name that fits to make the bar rhyme.

Bullshit, BTW.

I grew up watching men and women fall from descent, working viable
people to zombie-like shells of themselves. I watched TV as former
President Reagan and his self-righteous wife said, “Just say no,” and
created the false “drug war” that was really just a war on Black boys
and men, the poor and the addicted.

In the “trap” we called these unlucky people who suffered from the
illness of addiction J’s (short for junkies). As the CIA and Reagan’s
man Oliver North allowed cocaine in the US (Iran-Contra), unskilled and
skilled labor jobs left the country and cocaine became the alternative
economy for urban areas. Little boys became household breadwinners and
lots of mothers became addicts.

Within these children, deep-seated cynicism began to creep in and
fester like a cancer. The drugs that turned once decent folks into
desperate sick addicts, willing to sacrifice what dignity they had in
exchange for a drug, had a parallel effect on the community; it turned
sellers into cynics void of compassion and sympathy. The same family
members you loved and would give you school money were now shells of
their former selves. 

I connected with Jay-Z’s music more because of a story he shared about his shooting brother on “You Must Love Me.”�
�Whenever I listened, I remember having my “bomb” (package of rocks)
stolen by a dear family friend, Eric. I can still smell the
gasoline-filled bottles I prepared as I sat at the stop sign waiting for
�the lights to go out in Eric’s mother’s house. I remember seeing his
mom and her live-in, mentally-challenged boarders and him go in the
house.

I remember Rodney “J,” a good and decent man once, now sadly just a
“J” walking up and asking me for a sack. I remember the puzzled look on
his face when he said, “Fat boi, what’s wrong? Why you ain’t smiling?
You’re always smiling.” 

Then, I remember the look as he noticed the smell of gas and saw the
four freshly filled bottles with gas and sugar in them and realized I
wanted PAY BACK! I saw a sadness in him like none I had ever seen from
him. He had known Eric had stolen from me and he knew I was gonna get
pay back. 

Rodney, in that moment, dropped the “J” and was just an older Black
man schooling an angry and misguided child. With all the moral fortitude
�he could muster he sternly said, “Fat Boi, what are you doing, man?
Son, you cannot do that.”

He told me there are innocent folks in there, and he reminded me that
�he, Eric and even my mom were sick. They all had the same disease and
one day I will look back at this and it will not be as important. He was
�right. That moment is below petty, and I was just a stupid, angry kid
about to throw my life away for 2k in drugs! 

I wish I could say that after Rodney took the cocktails and high
tailed it, all was good and I learned my lesson and became a better me. I
�didn’t. After Rodney took the gas-filled glass grenades, I waited on
Eric for two days, I caught him, and I beat him up pretty badly. I
dragged him the front yard for the neighborhood to see, and I wanted
every “J” to know you cannot steal from me. I wanted the other dealers
to see you will not take advantage of me. I did it in my mom’s front
yard because I knew, somewhere deep in me, she was involved. Her
addiction had made her party to this theft. I knew that I could not hit
her, so I punished Eric with all the 18-year-old strength I had.

I sent him away to DeKalb Medical broken and bleeding.

I left my humanity there in that yard alongside his blood. I left my
sympathy and compassion there, I abandoned my humanity. I killed part of
�me that day. I killed the boy that loved and trusted his mother. I
killed lil’ Michael who always honored Denise because I knew her
addiction and bipolar disorder would be the death of her and possibly me
�if I didn’t.

I am glad for the time God gave me a healthy, honorable and engaging
mother, even if it was only a few short years. I hope one day my
mother’s mental illness and the illness of disease will loose her from
their vise grip, but my self-defense is cynicism and in reality I doubt
it. I guess what I’m saying is I accept her. I know she is broken and
will more than likely die because her kidneys have failed and she now
lives only because of dialysis due to years of drug abuse and hard
living.

But she’s mine.

She is the mother I was given and I’m thankful for her regardless.
She’s my mother. She died for a few minutes while having me at 16, and
she says something of her got left on the other side, and all the
goodness she had left she put in me. So I’m fighting, girl, I’m fighting
�to foster that good and retain my humanity. It’s hard but I’mma do
this. I have to for her grandchildren, my children. I have to be fully
open to all emotions for them.

I cannot blame these folk for being fun-loving partiers; they like
the current users of X, oxy, syrup, etc. They had no idea what kind or
turmoil cocaine and crack would do. Cocaine was an atomic bomb that
wiped away our collective moral compass. If they were able to see
face-to-face 20 years ahead, maybe they would have opted out of the
80s/90s party scene. Maybe women like my mom, young business
owners/mothers would have put a lot more time into their biz and kids,
less into their friends and the social scene. Maybe, just maybe, my life
�and the lives of countless other early 30s folk would be different.

We used to watch The Cosby Show and envy those kids with two
�parents, dinners together, money without crime, fun without drugs. I am
�determined to forgive my mother for leading a wasteful life and get
back on the path of good with her. I am more determined to be a whole
human being for Malik, Aniyah, Pony Boy and Michael.

Kids of the ‘80s and ‘90s, it’s time to forgive and let go.

We have to be what our generation’s adults were not. We gotta be more
�like the Cosby’s and less like us rappers. We have to reclaim our
humanity by releasing this hate that is in us and being open to love.
Love your people—imperfections and all. I forgive my mother, not for
hurting me or my sisters and her own mom and dad, I forgive her for
hurting herself. I know she’s still sick, I know it will probably be the
�death of her. I know she has betrayed me many times, but I also know
she loves me… and she ain’t jiving… she’s just sick. In honor of mothers
�and sons everywhere, people fighting with addictions keep fighting. You
�can win!

It’s Bigga.

Fin!

BONUS: “All for You (Niecy’s Song)” [Produced by Cool & Dre] Off Monster, 2003

Happy Weed Day or 4/20

Get to smoking

Weed should be legal

Yes. Happy 4/20 day. The only day that law abiding citizens smoke up in protest to the ridiculous restrictive drug laws we put up with everyday. Nah, just kidding. If you smoke weed, more than likely you smoke it regardless of 4/20 or not. I don’t smoke it because it does nothing for me for some reason. Maybe I’m not a competent smoker I don’t know. But I do know a lot of people get arrested for weed. Why I guess money. But I have to go along with the proponents of legalizing weed and taxing it. I mean this law would be no different than allowing alcohol(an industry which is worth 155 billion dollars according to the Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders Society) to be legal. Though weed has been proven to be more harmful to one’s lungs than cigarettes. I still feel legalizing the drug will take power away from the drug kingpins. Not the ones who rap about all the money they allegedly made from selling drugs, but the real Noriega’s. Ya know? But anyway, I’m not gonna write too much because I know people are going to be out there lighting up for democracy. So take care peace. Signing out.

Israel What the HELL???!!??

 

Little late, but I’ve been trying to soak in a lot lately. I’m not gonna go into a historical analysis and break down, even though it is essential in understanding the recent events in Israel. But I will admit I had a very deep discussion with my parents and family over the world’s peril. We’ve had similar conversations before, but the sentiments expressed during our exchanges are now starting to be a lot more relevant. The discussions normally go something like this old&jaded vs new&idealistic. The old&jaded(my parents) and the new&idealistic(me, my siblings sometimes). The old&jaded normally say things like: “that’s the system,” “you can’t fix the wheel,” “these problems are older than you and will be here longer than you will be.” Well, I want to agree with these quotes, but it is extremely difficult for me to just accept it. I know this is the world, but I don’t want to live in it like someone who just goes a long with it. 

Ok enough rambling.

Gaza strip. Israel.

 

CIA factbook heed with caution

 

 

For those of you who don’t know. There has been more bloodshed on the Gaza Strip. Hamas and Israel are at it again. Palestine has been bombed several times. They’ve been stripped of land. And they just recently have suffered the loss of 400 people as punishment for Hamas’ killing of 2. Israel has never been sanctioned or told to stop their treatment of Palestinian people. In fact, recently Condoleeza and George Bush both agree with Israel’s preemptive strikes. Israel has the right to defend itself, but this is not the same as subjugation and/or oppression. 

The UN reached another resolution as usual. But is it really a ceasefire or resolution if nothing is really solved; if there is no real appeasement can there really be peace? Maybe I some of us get carried away with the world’s problems.  Like the old&jaded would say, these problems were here before you existed and they will be here after you die. I understand it takes more than just a few idealistic people to change the world. But look at people like Martin Luther King Jr., Benazir Bhutto, John Lennon, Ghandi, and Ken Saro Wiwa. They weren’t afraid of the ultimate sacrifice, and they weren’t afraid to stand up to these ‘problems.’ We all are headed for some challenging times people. It will require strength and self-belief, but also unity.

On a more personal note, my uncle has passed away in Nigeria. Due to lack of healthcare and equity for the have nots. He died at the age of 28 from sickle cell crisis(sickle cell crisis). Nigeria like most African countries is set up structurally inept. Corruption from the top down, but let me stop. I have a tendency to fall in deep. Some days I wish I had chosen the blue pill, and just been a happy, ignorant, aimless drone!

Cue Matrix Scene:

This world is too much!

I don’t hate New York I just love Georgia

What’s up? How’s it going? Bonjour. Hola. Hey. Hello. Umpendeve. I got back from a trip to New York attending my brother’s graduation in New Jersey. Trip was about a 14.5 hour drive from Marietta, GA.

All the states we traveled had a distinct atmosphere or even culture about them. Tennessee looked country; even more country than Georgia. D.C. was a strange place. D.C. had two sides to it. On one hand D.C. had the federal buildings with beautiful construction. And on the other it had run down poor looking side of town. The run down was just 20 minutes away from the federal building, allowing me to easily compare and contrast. Philadelphia looked pretty gutter. But the traffic we experienced was reminiscent of Atlanta.

However the biggest change didn’t take place until I got into the state of New York. As soon as I got there people were trying to cut me off. There was a lot of honking a lot of swearing behind the wheel. People seemed in a rush all the time and had to let you know. You have to hustle in Atlanta, but not like this. I have been living in Georgia for almost 20 years. After New York I realized I’d been taking the Southern hospitality thing for granted. Yeah this is a cold world but at least in the South the people are somewhat cordial and polite with you. Drivers aren’t so short-tempered. It isn’t as smelly as New York City. To be fair I was only there for a few days. And I didn’t get to see it all, however, I felt like I’ve seen enough. There looked like even more ‘racial/ethnic diversity‘ than I’ve seen in Atlanta(and that means a lot). I liked the mass transit system there much better than the one in Atlanta. But, I’m still gonna have to go with the A(ATLANTA for those who don’t know). No knock against NYC (NEW YORK), but this has been my home away from home for years. Maybe I’ll go back there and we can continue this compare and contrast. Until then, take care. Love & Peace. And I especially love you Georgia. ha ha

I DO. I DO.

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MY FIRST Video

What’s up everybody reading. I plan on making my first music video for My Two Words freestyle. I am working with a Visual artist by the name of Mustafa. I hope everything goes well. Dude seems real professional, and he has really dope photography skills. I hope this is the start of something beautiful. Peace to all.

Here is his myspace: http://www.myspace.com/chosenonefilms.

Don’t forget to check me out too: http://www.myspace.com/africanorigins