2 Sides to a Coin/I'm Me
In middle school (Jr. High) I was good friends with a kid named Kevin Caudle. Kevin was a quiet kid but we shared a similar passion: baseball. We played ball, collected cards, spoke baseball every afternoon in Ms. Moore's Art 8 class. Kevin used to pencil sketch pictures of players off the cards and from sports magazines. He was amazing, a very talented kid. And his favorite player was #14, Mr. Peter Edward Rose. Most remember his lifetime MLB ban for betting on the game (and repeatedly lying about it). But I think of the Big Red Machine igniter, all time hits leader, run thee fuck over Ray Fosse at the plate in the All Star Game, whoop Bud Harrelson's ass at second base, catch Bob Boone's bobble by the dugout in the '80 World Series, full throttle at all times Charlie Hustle. I thank my old pal Kevin for really opening my eyes to see that there was none other to compare. #14 embodied everything you could ever ask in a ball player...on the field.
On the field he was a god. Off the field he was a bit different. His work related indiscretions are well documented (women, etc.) He also suffered from other vices, to say the least. Enough for more than some to feel like he's a piece of shit. So there's a natural polarizing affect on the public. So many are willing to overlook all of Rose's mistakes because of his pastime greatness.But we don't have to look at old Charlie Hustle; just look in the mirror.
The ladies who really feel me see what some don't. The charm is A-1, and I'm rarely not confident. They know my loyalty has no end. They cherish my intellect in an era where being dumb is an asset. I'm a gentleman who strictly deals with sophistication. I'm a rarity, a relic in modern day Babylon. They love it. But there's another side to me, my complexities. I have my share of issues. Abandonment is on the board. I deal with high levels of anxiety. I've dealt with a great amount of loss. Sometimes I push people away. I don't have answers for why. I wish I did at times. But one thing's for certain: if she's gonna be with me she's gotta put up with it all. The good. The not so good. Honestly, I can't even say with certainty that I'm confident there's a lady out there willing to put up with all my ish. But hey, I'm me.
I love the feeling I get when I'm running around town UnB'd up and I get a complement about Crew wear, my soul smiles. In my mind I'm like, "fucking right." Cuz we got, we got the jazz. Crew UnB, through death. The Unbearables Crew is an army, fuck that, A PLANET. #115
Leaders of the Next School
I'm a person who's always been big on learning the whole story. Not just the "who" or the juicy tidbits, but the underlying theme and all the trimmings as well. I guess that's why I studied and became a journalist. I was always concerned with the 5 Ws and the H. Prime example, per se (I'm kinda slow and really wavy so I might not make any fucking sense at the moment). So anyways, I'm having a by myself meeting, listening to D'Angelo's monster Voodoo for the 8,034,567th time, thinking about all I've read and heard about those legendary sessions that led to musical perfection. Off jump, D loved to record in the wee hours of the morning, so he let Common rock in one of his booked studios (Electric Lady at the time, either 1 or 2) during the day. Those sessions turned into his acclaimed Like Water For Chocolate. Ms. Badu had Studio 3. Questlove would be back and forth. James Poyser was around. So was Bilal. So were Mos Def and Talib Kweli. So were others. Erykah's sessions turned into Mama's Gun. Of course the world's 8th Wonder were around as a band and with Black Thought. Their critically acclaimed Things Fall Apart came out of those sessions, too. So basically, you've got all these incredible artists in proximity, connecting thoughts on a daily basis. It's almost guaranteed that vast amounts of classic material come about.
Having said that...
Crew UnB is the new wave. We're the wave, period. The talent is extra diverse; we've got it all. I'm talmbout fashion, literature, screenplay, art/ink, music, technology, that love shit, that hate shit, that fast shit, that slow shit...you get the point. In the midst of trying to breakthrough on a global scale, we push our talent and its fruits on a grassroots level. A fan a day. That's how we've become the People's Champs. No disrespect, but it's a Crew UnB thing. No disrespect to the rest, but this is a fucking cosa nostra, and it's gonna be a fucking cosa nostra until the day they put flowers on me. And if you do have a problem with me and mine...well fuck you then. Bookmark it: 100 Blocks Stories 2 in stores Holiday Season. That's next month. Checkmate. Cop some of our fly ish for this Holiday season. I'm saying...you're already on the site. Oh yeah, I'm dropping another project on Valentines Day. Ha. #115.
The Hustle, Pt. 2
Last go 'round, I spent some time discussing why the traditional hustle (drugs) isn't the answer nowadays. If you're not up to speed, take your delinquent ass back a week and get that lesson, ju heard? Moving on...
Today's new hustle isn't new at all, nor is it singular. These days, hustling is however you go about getting your paper. You might move DVDs, work at the ShopRite, sell incense on 125th Street in Harlem, cook dinners on the weekend, babysit, be the hood bookie, tutor, do/cut hair, whatever. The hustle is the hustle. It's however you go about getting your paper from day to day. If you're a smart MF, you'll have two or three under your belt (message). You can never have enough hustles, plus the paper doesn't sleep. The early bird gets that worm, so I advise you to be on your grind before the competition. I'm telling you what I know. I learned from the best. My grandfather Archie G. Warren Sr. was a diesel mechanic for the US Army during WWII. He retired relatively early, but kept a couple hustles to go with his pension. He was a master painter and fisherman. The man even took a job pumping gas at Hess well into his 60s. Until the day he passed on, he kept a hustler's fold (knot) on him. My Auntie Sandra Warren (my rock) has been a medical billing master for over four decades. She's worked everywhere from Mt. Sinai Hospital to New York Presbyterian (Columbia). I'm talking high five figures a year. To this day, she still keeps a side hustle, working overnights at adult homes. When I was a teen she did transcription for rich white folk. My mother stayed with two, three jobs until I was deep into college, no benefits at that time...so I could eat. My grandmother Mary Warren worked at a high school for knuckle heads weekdays, Southampton Hospital on weekends, and still directed three choirs on Sunday mornings, one at a white Methodist church (I loved that church). So basically, I "got it honest." I've been working two plus jobs the last decade (since I left hustle #1 alone). I don't plan on stopping what I do until I'm a milli up. I'll save the "it's much safer than selling drugs" rhetoric. It's simply more fulfilling. Nothing's better than that "bing" iPhone gives you when there's a new text and you look at your screen to see a deposit has been made into your account. Multiply that times three, two to four times a month. You'll never go astray. And to respectfully rebut you trap or die niggas real quick, peep game. Yeah, touching all that money was lovely. My weekly gross was much heavier than some regular ass payroll check I cashed. But how did it feel when the hot boys kicked your door in or the alphabet boys swarmed your trap? Go interview Supreme, Fat Cat, or Pistol Pete. All three are in ADX Supermax in Colorado. They're NEVER coming home. Ask them whether they'd take hustle #2 if given another opportunity. I rest my case.
If you don't have an official Unbearables hoodie on your back, you need to do so immediately. Fuck is your problem? You're on the site. Go on 'head and click a couple times. You know who it is. @tymonday signing out until the next episode. Stay safe and stay paid. #115
Monday Night Raw
The Hustle, Part 1
"If Plan A don't work, then we go with B, C and D."
My OG Kenny Maull
A hustle is defined in modern terms as any way that a person gets to the paper. Sure, the first thing you probably think when you hear or see the word hustle is the drug game. Crack is usually the hustle of choice because its comparative payday at each level (corner boy up to kingpin) is usually much greater than other drugs. It definitely moves faster than most of its competitors. But, thanks to corrupt public figures, it carries the most time when prosecuted as well. Sometimes, it seems like every damn body in the hood sells reefa (my old school term for weed). It was definitely my move 90% of the time (I got dirty on occasion and saw a lil bread from hard). But the tree is too bulky and its aromatics are beyond crazy, whether lit or inside a sealed, airtight bag. And like I mentioned earlier, your cousin, Auntie & grandma are currently moving work they copped from the same weight man you got yours from.
[So what you saying fat man?]
Fuck selling drugs. And before you ask, I'm saying what I say from a non-judgmental perspective. It has little to do with morality, more so with aforementioned consequence. For all you aspiring Supremes, Fat Cats, Boy Georges, and Marlo Stanfields, bear this in mind. Like my big bro A-Wax from VUU will tell you, hustling died around '93, for various reasons. Common sense should tell you that death isn't literal, rather a term denoting the end of an era. Law enforcement (universal) by then was well equipped with high powered weaponry to match that of street gangs and cartels. Established task forces with resources and allotted manpower by then were specifically dedicated to making kingpin reigns on the top short like leprechauns, whether big city hustler or country cool coke boy. Overly strict, mandated sentencing at both the state and federal levels completely crushed dreams with football numbers while Caucasian boys who moved the soft got a fraction of the time when convicted, even with comparative weight. Snitching grew to new heights and enough death from both aspects of the drug game (drug related violent homicide and overdose) made crack, its dealers and their doings collective Public Enemy #1. So they say. Last I checked, ain't one damn coca plant growing in my neighborhood, zip code, city, state, or country.
On that note, big ups to my niggas (and bitches) outchea getting to the money by any means. To all my niggas taking penitentiary chances errtime they walk out their front doors. To all my niggas who turned a few zips to a square as well as my niggas aspiring to see an eighth
of that same brick from 62s. I completely understand your position. Don't get it twisted. Man is free to judge you, but only God can divinely judge you. And we all should know that God don't like ugly, but he gotta love hungry. I just want you to know you have options. So what's the alternative? Tune into Part 2 next time. #115
Out limited edition UnB black pharaoh hoodies are almost history. They're so fly I had white folk complementing me on Saturday like I had a mixtape on Dat Piff and three songs on MTV Jamz. I'm telling ya...
"Satellite dish, 50" wih the Knicks on. Everyday is real in my life, you live a sick poem."
I said, I said (Hollow da Don voice)...crew CEO @themisterceizzo and I were polying earlier today, batting the ball back and forth. We ended up on the topic of these extra ass niggas. You know, these overly dramatic ass niggas. I'm not gon say the show, but one of the cast was due for an eight month jail bid. Old boy and the homies were crying like Kobe the year he and Shaq had Karl Malone and GP and got rocked in the Finals. Nigga please. ALL of us have jail/prison niggas and family. My cousin (Albert Bradley) who raised me in the 100 Blocks is 18 in on 35+. My nigga Kevin Newman is down VA 21 in on a 75 year sentence, max facility. He's eligible for parole in 2044. That's just a couple. When my bro Jose caught his last case, we were happy as hell he only did a bullet on the Island. Truth be told, I'm no jail nigga. Not at all. I never got caught while I did my dirt. Technically, I did. But my OGs ate the charges for me. My longest time behind bars is my only time: about six hours in holding at the 44, on a humble. Let the record show there is no record; I handled that. But back to you overboard ass niggas. We can tell who your are by reading the blogs. Y'all niggas talmbout "Free my guy ________ ). My nigga, your man got 90 days in the county. He'll be home for his oldest daughter birthday. Get off the blogs acting like your man is Nelson Mandela. It's disgusting. With your extra ass.
NEW RELEASE ZONE
The just released limited edition black pharaoh hoodies are moving like Frank Lucas testers on 7th Ave. Black is the base color with the iconic pharaoh UnB in athletic gold. Damn near gone is the status; order yours right now. Once again, it's the Crew for the win. Stay safe and stay paid. 115.