#MNR: America’s Most Blunted

“I smoked with a lot of college students. Most of ‘em wasn’t graduating, and they knew it…”

Sheeeittt, Red never made his way to Huntley Hall 1996-2000 era. I woulda disproved his theory. Salute to all the booda champs from that time and place in history. We had a time.

Salute to the state of New Jersey and our ugly ass, mole faced governor, Uncle Phil Murphy. The vote to legalize cannabis came from we, the voters, but Uncle Phil’s cheerleading played a key role in pushing the vote in the affirmative. The idea of legalized recreational marijuana has long since been a hot topic in the garden state, pretty much since medical marijuana use was approved in 2010. But every time the bill for recreational use came up down Trenton, those south Jersey card carrying Klan members who moonlighted as state politicians blocked that shit like how Kenyon Martin used to send shots into the eighth row in the Izod Center. One dumbass even stated that he voted no because it would definitely lead to mass marijuana-impaired auto accidents on the state roads and highways. Thee fuck??? Bitch, that line of reasoning has a hunnit fallacies. But I’ll break a couple down. First, we all know that with ANY machinery, operating while impaired is a strict no-no. You can’t operate a forklift at work while impaired. You can’t drive a Greyhound from Port Authority to D.C. while three sheets to the wind. Employing that logic is like saying prohibition should still be in full effect because everyone will always choose to just get drunk as fuck and drive to Wal Mart or to work or to wherever. Of course, some people are going to drink and drive. Some are going to L ride. It is what it is. But if you buy the ticket, you ride the ride. We knew that L riding back in the day could be the fastest way to a precinct, so we were OD careful. I’m just saying, it kinda had the opposite effect on judgement. Anyway. How about the marijuana users who don’t drive or operate heavy machinery at all? Should they too have to suffer?

Everything I’ve written since mentioning the state politician has been pure bullshit, just like the politician’s reasoning. You already know what it is. He didn’t want the bill passed because he figures the majority of non-medical users are Black and/or lowlifes. He’s fully aware of how much the state has profited off of marijuana litigation, incarceration, probation, and “rehabilitation.” He also knows that many lives have been ruined over a blunt or a dime bag of reefa. Marijuana criminalization was one of many surefire ways to keep the boot of the oppressor on the Black man’s neck. He and his Klansman brothers and sisters know we love our reefa, so they made sure to play it as close as possible for as long as possible. But the cat’s been out of the bag. Marijuana isn’t Diet Heroin. It’s not the friendly alternative to cocaine. It’s a natural plant. That’s where I give mole faced Phil his credit. He spoke on the disproportionate number of African American offenders in the state. And after the bill got shot down in Trenton, he put it in the hands of the voters. We spoke. Now, he needs to carry it all the way out and ensure that records of all past non-violent and non-distribution “offenders” are expunged. Thanks Phil.

You still fucked up on authorizing that six-week extension for emergency unemployment relief. You held out as a political ploy to piss Trump off, only to accept it weeks later. Your excuse for wanting to understand the ins and outs was lame. The average reader figured it out the first time it was explained. In the meantime, New Jersey workers suffered. Eat a dick and fuck your politics.

Light your shit up if you haven’t already. If you haven’t done the math yet, this is one of those. The cold intro should have let you know off jump ball. But y’all didn’t go to school to be journalists.

I refuse to succumb to peer pressure and throw two point fo’ grizzles in my Backwoods. You rappers hurt MF self-esteem with these logs y’all burn in front these camera lenses. Y’all got MF clowning respectable sized blunts in public. If I’m smoking from the top of the tree, I don’t need to stuff the L like I’m being interviewed on No Jumper or just finished a rap battle and I’m talking to Uncle Ra or Knowledge. Plus, 95% of my ciphers take place during by myself meetings. One to one point fever in the wood is good enough for me. On the flip side, you niggas twirling these anorexic L’s should just cop an old school pack of Bamboo or strictly take bong rips. In the spirit of my brother Guzi Gav (one love), that’s not even enough weed for one grown man. I really hope you don’t emulate this atrocity when amidst a cipher. The boys might clown your ass smooth outta town.

Once a year, I twirl a couple of dem thangs and play Redman’s Dare Iz a Darkside album from front to back. In my opinion, it is the ultimate rap weed album. Sure, there are plenty of marijuana themed albums. The Chronic may be the best album ever made. But while it and many other great albums have been marijuana themed, few were an actual ciph. Dare… is an end-to-end blunt session vibe. Def Squad, like Dre, were heavily influenced by Parliament, and the Funkadelic vibes are the backbone for their respective sounds. But Red and Erick Sermon took it a step further. It was more than the sound. They brought the actual cosmic slop to rap. Even the album, which shows Redman’s screaming head with blowout afro poking out of dirt, is a direct reference to Funkadelic’s Maggot Brain album. Few will argue that it’s Red’s best album, but many (self-included) will claim it to be their favorite Redman album. The irony is that Red hates the album and almost never performs any tracks off the project. He even went on his album radio promo telling listeners in every city that unless they were true Redman fans that they shouldn’t buy the album because it wasn’t for them. The only two singles, “Can’t Wait” and “Rockafella”, wouldn’t even be considered as singles by any record company today. The latter track was named after his homie who got murdered shortly before Red recorded the project. A brief clip of Rockafella flowing made up the intro to the actual track. That man was nice. RIP. Red also admitted that at the time he had a serious cocaine habit on top of his love affair with booda. The entire project was indicative of Red’s mind state: dingy basement funk, heavy baselines, and boom bap. Few, if any, can do it like the E Double and Red, whether it’s incorporating random sung R&B lyrics at the end of a track, sampling their own vocals (they were innovators with this), or manipulating vocals. Then there’s the list of guest artists. Of course, there’s the squad: E, Keith Murray, and Hurricane Gee, but there’s also Dr. Trevis and Uncle Quilly, two of Redman’s “characters” on the album. Some even consider Dare… to be a concept album. It really is a nonstop trip to the dark side. Mind blowing to this day. If they only used the remix beat for the original “Rockafella”.

Dare Iz a Darkside is a sentimental favorite because it’s the first CD I ever owned and came with the first CD player I ever owned, Christmas 1994 to be precise. But I already had a dub copy of the tape. Hip-hop aficionados remember the actual Dare… tape to have been red, thus the reason for it being called the red tape. The CD case and CD were also red. I had also started smoking weed the summer just before my 16th birthday, and it was one of the first great releases from then on that year, along with Squad mate Keith Murray’s debut The Most Beautifullest Thing in This World and his tag team partner Meth’s solo debut Tical. I’d sneak and smoke my blunt and then hit play. Those were the best days. The innocent days. I miss those days.

That’s my time y’all. I hope you enjoyed this blog along with your late night or early morning “constitutional”. UnB know the slang. Salute to crew member Steff Po @STEFF_23_ROZZAY. Love to the world. Squad up.

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#MNR: Water Under the Bridge

Nigga, I’ve been singing the hook to “So Icy” since the Gucci/Jeezy Versuz, so I guess that’s a good place to park the Deuce and a Quarter. Step out the whip and fire your cheeba up. Enjoy the breeze. Now get your punk ass back in the car and ride with me. Leggo.

Gucci Mane vs. Jeezy. Radric Davis vs. Jay Jenkins. Guwop vs. Young Jizzle. Brick Squad 1017 vs. CTE (well, not so much anymore, but still). Zone 6 (shouts to my brother Mr. Ten) vs. The Bottom of the Map. Y’all know all the history. Y’all know all the hype. After 15 years of true beef and tension, 11.19.2020 saw the two Atlanta icons sit/stand across from one another in the legendary club King of Diamonds and go hit for hit (mostly) over the course of an hour and a half. It was momentous as well as prodigious, with about 1.5 million viewers in Apple Music and easily hundreds of thousands more viewers on diverse YouTube channel watch parties. I don’t currently nor have I ever subscribed to Apple Music (still have my free trial offer, I buy all my music), so I was in a YouTube watch party with about 70K in attendance. I don’t do recaps like my folk Vada Fly and Shotime SP do in the battle rap community (of which I’m also an ardent member), so y’all can take y’all lazy asses to YouTube if you want the fat and the skinny. I’ll just say that I had Jeezy with the clear win, which was obvious off jump because his catalogue of widely accepted hits and/or Billboard hits outnumber Gucci’s. But Gucci most definitely kept it entertaining throughout, beginning with his specially made diss track to set the MF battle off. That landed like a Hitman Holla haymaker on Summer Madness in Webster Hall (Don Demarco!!!). His other highlights were his reference to Pookie Loc, the nigga Gucci ushered to the Upper Room when he and a crew came for Gucci’s chain on a $10K bounty “allegedly” sponsored by Jeezy way back when. Throw in a couple of petty jabs over jewelry and clothes, and Gucci was the Gucci many of us have known and loved since I couldn’t find any 4X white tees because all you 2X MF bought every last one of those shits out the store on the MF regular. That’s when I used to see my folk at the old itty bitty newsstand type shop just off the corner of 2fifth and 8th Avenue by the train stop on the side of the street. That’s ’04, ’05 era Harlem. But anyway. Jeezy did his thing cuz his hits were heavier and hit heavier to most who watched. It was nostalgic if you were outside at that time, whether it was the club, the trap, at parties and cookouts, wherever. For those of us who got it out the mud in the trap, Jeezy talked to us because his talk was “trap technical.” He used terms only MF in the game who dealt with numbers talked. A lotta that shit flew over most of y’all heads because y’all weren’t in the trap. Shit like 62’s and 4-ways were just words in bars. But those of us who knew…knew. The best part of the battle was the end, easily. We all joked in the chats and on Twitter beforehand that it would be crazy if the two veterans performed “So Icy” together to end it. And damn it, they did. That shit was amazing, for obvious reasons. The culture got the win. But shit, so did Gucci and Jeezy. They both got the bag bag for their 90 minutes of work.

For all you stupid as fuck, COVID is a conspiracy ass MF, I just want to say this: if you truly believe that the coronavirus is a joke/hoax/etc., please just do us all a favor and, in the event that you contract COVID, refuse healthcare and a ventilator. Treat it like the common flu that you’re convinced it is. Go on ‘head to the Wal Mart and cop you some OJ and Theraflu. Go home and get you some rest. Thank you. You may just run into Pookie Loc on your way.

Big up to all our essential workers in healthcare, food services, education, and the liquor sto’. You are appreciated. Truly.

I’m not certain of the name of the channel, but there’s a brother on YouTube who chronicles the deaths of rappers. He gives their name, age, city of origin, and cause of death. His blog for rappers who have died in 2020 just released its SEVENTH update to the original. They’re all about 9 minutes or longer to add further perspective. Let that shit sink into your dome.

I said that to say this, and I’m gon try my hardest to tread lightly and maintain absolute respect for all the deceased. Now, not every rapper who died this year died because of a gun or the blade (remember, London and the UK have strict gun control laws, so their homicides are just as likely to be from a blade as a pistol). Some died in auto accidents. Some had illnesses. But the majority of the rappers who have died this year died because of gun play. And a majority of the rappers who died because of gun play are affiliated (and I’ll leave it at that). I never banged. I ran with MF who banged. Still do. But I am a verified street veteran. I earned all my stripes. I’m blue check verified. My OG always said, “you buy the ticket, you ride the ride.” Anyone involved in street life knows that death is a definite possibility if you play long and hard enough. That’s just how shit goes. Now, we definitely mourn death. God bless. But if you play with fire, there’s a good chance you will surely be burned. Street niggas understand. I just need you candy ass, never danced with the devil fans to STFU and let MF rest in peace. They knew what they were getting into. Every morning of my life when I lived in the 1400 building on 170th St. and Jesup Ave. in Highbridge, #BXNYC, I woke up and immediately sat up on the bed with my feet on the floor, stretched, yawned, looked out the window, and said, “Thank you Lord for another 24. I know I might die today.” I was knee deep in the game. I ran with the worst types. The block and my building were on fire. That gang shit was that gang shit. We’re talking ’06-’09 era. A lotta kids lost their lives. One of my regular custies, a 15-year-old Dominican kid who had just moved to the states got bodied on Ogden. One to the head. Kid never bothered anybody. He just liked to smoke good tree and chase a skirt. But niggas play dirty in Highbridge. The moral of the story is that when you’re in the game, anything is on the table. That’s why I stopped praising violence long ago. I get it. You’re outside and you’re active. You shoot at opps. But opps shoot back. If you can live with it, I can too. And if you die, you die. No tears shall be shed on this side. And for all you disillusioned ass fans who recite these lyrics and fantasize about the street conquests of the rappers who write them, guns kill. Please don’t forget that.

You ever been at work in middle of a Teams and/or Zoom meeting and just wanted to unmute your mic and tell the MF talking to kindly please shut theeeee fuck up? Oh ok. Me either. #ijs

I wanted to talk about some more shit. Truly. But I’m out of Backwoods and the sto’ closes sooner than later. And it takes a minute to thoroughly edit this copy. Any writer will tell you that editing your own material is tantamount to playing Russian Roulette (I’m lying, but they’ll tell you it sux ass). So that’s it, fuckers. Hope you enjoyed the blog. If not, you can kick rocks until you fall off the Palisades to a fiery death. Or survive like Will Ferrell in Austin Powers. I’m just playing. I’m just serious. I’m just playing. I’m just…

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#MNR: The Re-education of Ty Monday
 
“My mental is excelling cuz I dabble in the books.”
Q-Tip
 
“He simply wishes to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro and an American, without being cursed and spit upon by his fellows, without having the doors of Opportunity closed roughly in his face.”
William Edward Burghardt Du Bois
 
I know my ratchet followers (whom I love dearly and accept with open arms) want the ignorant Monday to drop more often. I hear y’all thoughts. “All that knowledge and wisdom is cool bro, but we ain’t come here for all that shit my nigga.” I can dig it. Trust. Gimme a minute to talk to my enlightened folk. They want a word to munch on too. And I can’t mix the ratchet with the godly so I’m not gon attempt to fuse the two in one blog. Hang on tight, niggas. I got you. For now, take a two-on-two of knowledge through your nostrils and into your brain cavity.
 
I should have listened to my mother and took my dumb ass to grad school directly after college. I didn’t (fuck the reason why; it’s merely an excuse), and I am not currently in a position financially to be able to attend. Moreover, I’m trying to get my ducks in a row so Brandi and I can purchase property inside of four years, so that’s where my financial priorities are directed. Yet, [Black] Political Theory has intrigued me since university with the great Eric S. King, the man who taught me the subject from the ground up. Add a sprinkle of Professor Tola Merid with State and Local Government and The Politics of Social Welfare with the benevolent R. Kirk Jonas, and I was blessed with the foundation for pertinent analysis in the field of politics. I said all that to let you know I am well rounded and astute in the field of politics, but a graduate degree in Political Theory would be paramount. Unfortunately, that’s not in the plans at the moment. But what I have chosen to do is put myself through “Poor Man’s Grad School”, a concept I adapted from my brother @brotherfuture94 (Warin). I don’t have the financial means to matriculate, but I do have the money to purchase particular pertinent pieces of literature (try saying that three times in a row). I also have the power to not only read the text, but to also study the text (highlighter and dictionary within reach). This means I have the ability to interpret and master my studies. Then I will have the utmost confidence to hold my own against ANY so-called expert, and I can talk my shit.
 
Now, I’m not asking anyone to turn into Johnny Scholar, nor am I trying to shame your ignorant, dumb ass for not reading anything beyond street signs and ingredients. What I am saying is that we have the means and ability to become masters of any field. Modern technology has awarded us the opportunity to quench the thirst for knowledge that until recently was inconceivable to many. Google can become your professor, granted you research credible sources. But once again, the key to it all is what you put into it. We cannot ascend without education. I’m re-reading The Souls of Black Folk by the great W.E.B. Du Bois, and it’s bringing me back to the ideals I learned long ago. The main question that has been in play since desegregation has been, “What will it take for us to rise up?” Unfortunately, the answer is layered, complex, and virtually impossible to answer with precision. There is a shopping list of things we need to do as a race to ascend, but it all begins with education. My O.G. told me, “if you know better, you’ll do better.” Applied knowledge is power. Do all the learning you can do while you’re in the classroom, then continue to learn once you’ve left the physical classroom and entered the omnipresent classroom of adult life. It’s never ending. Then apply that knowledge to your everyday life in a manner that will be beneficial to you as well as your tribe (each one teach one). A lot of us don’t even know who we are or the greatness that we have evolved from. That’s where the learning should begin. Then learn this country’s political and economic systems. Then figure out how you are going to carve your niche. The ultimate level of ascension is when we’ve made it and we pool our resources and talent together to form our own conglomerates which will allow us in mass to help our downtrodden and underprivileged. That’s it. We can fancy it up with multisyllabic words to make it more ornate, but that’s the crux of the plan.
 
I have the utmost respect for my younger Black folk out there, man and woman alike and equally. I love the hunger you have for change. The things I have seen in the past half year have shown me that you are capable of leaving this planet in a much better place than the one you inherited. I said it before that we have seen more change in the past few months than we as a race have seen in forever. I defend my statement by asking that you view it through lenses of relativity. No, there was no Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka (school desegregation), Civil Rights Act of 1964, or Voter’s Rights Act of 1965, but there was a reckoning that forced many institutions and businesses with long and extensive records of discrimination to not only admit but to also atone for their centuries and decades of wrongdoing. This reckoning did not come from singing “We Shall Overcome” and marching across bridges. It came from taking it to the streets. Some nights in some cities were darker than others. At times, blood was shed. But it was purposeful. Again, you have my respect and support. But I am troubled when I’m on Twitter and I read some of my brothers and sisters dogging key figures in this movement for life that began long ago and continues to this day. Example: I read a thread of young Black folk trashing the late Senator John Lewis (D-Ga) while he was still alive for a statement he made concerning the physical abuse he suffered at the hands of the PIGS on the Selma Bridge along with 57 others on 3.7.1965. The statement made it seem as if he were thanking the PIGS for beating the dog shit out of him. I can agree with my folk in that the quote sounded crazy AF. But I can also add perspective to the statement, perspective that comes from having existed on this earth and experienced more than my younger brothers and sisters have. I know y’all TTG. Shit, we raised y’all to be that way. Y’all got it honest. But you have to add perspective to his statement and respect to him and others who walked alongside him across that bridge and in spirit throughout the Civil Rights Movement. The passive resistance of peaceful protests like marches, boycotts, and sit-ins seem passé today, but back then they were even more revolutionary than what we see today. The rights of a Black person were waaaaaaaaaaaay more limited back then they are now. That goes without saying. But maybe should be said because it has been excluded from the conversation these days. A mere glance and alleged whistle could have resulted in being lynched and cast in a river. Ask the family of Emmett Till. You think the court system is shitty now? LMMFAO. Research the term “kangaroo court” and get back with me. You have no idea. The simple act of sitting at a lunch counter in Woolworth’s to get a coffee and slice of pie could have resulted in you getting spit on and the mother fuck beaten out of you. Marching down a public street could have gotten a water hose turned on you or a PIG K-9 let loose on your Black ass. I won’t even delve into policy because you can’t even fathom the laws and institutions that were in place to keep us in the garbage can. The brave YOUNG Black folk back then had so much more to lose for doing the things you dispel as weak. I put the word “young” in all caps for a reason. Imagine how a Black parent felt when their son or daughter told them that they planned to go to Woolworth’s for lunch or that they decided to spend their summer as a Freedom Rider down Mississippi. Imagine telling your grandmother before church that you planned to march down Main Street in protest against the man right after service. They literally risked EVERYTHING. So, instead of talking crazy about them and belittling their mighty contributions to your life, uplift them and add the statement to your manifesto that says you are building off of the contributions of so many brave folk who came before you. Please. I implore you.
 
That’s the fat and the skinny. If you can’t dig that, you can’t dig it period. But that’s on you. I have my suspicion that most of y’all talking that Tough Tony the Revolutionary shit are frauds anyway. Instead of talking about it, be about it. And if you do, I’ll be the first to give you your just do. It’s that simple.
 
That’s my time y’all. Smoke sum’n withcha kinfolk. I’m a see you when I see you, unless you see me first.
 
P.S. I met the late Senator John Lewis. I shook his hand and looked him in the eye. We enjoyed a brief conversation. He was a good man. Leave him alone.
 
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​

#MNR: Woke MF, Sheep, and Revolutionaries
 
“If you think about me and you ain’t gonna do no revolutionary act, forget about me. I don’t want myself on your mind if you’re not going to work for the people…You have to understand that people have to pay a price for peace. If you dare to struggle, you dare to win. If you dare not struggle then damn it, you don’t deserve to win. Let me say peace to you if you’re willing to fight for it.”
Fred Hampton, Black King
 
The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. DuBois and Up From Slavery by Booker T. Washington are seminal works of literature from two of the most influential Black scholars in American history. They are often read and even published in tandem, as they offer contrasting views on the best approach for Black folk to survive and thrive in 20th century America. Time has shown Booker T. to be more even keeled and DuBois to be considerably more radical. Booker T. (in a nutshell) felt that the way to the top was to work alongside the white man. DuBois (in a nutshell) said fuck ‘em, let’s do it ourselves. I’ll begin by saying that the solution is unlikely to come directly from either corner, rather, closer toward the middle. I’ll continue by saying that I personally believe that the answer would or should be closer to DuBois than Booker T. But we’ll get into that during this essay. We have other shit to cover first. Roll that shit up. It’s most likely legal where you live nowadays. It is in Jerz. Jealous (John Witherspoon voice)?
 
Unless you live in the depths of one of the oceans or desolate areas of other continents, you’re aware that former Vice President Joseph Biden has been elected president of the United States by the people, with Senator Kamala Harris as his VP nominee. I’ll skip the baseless allegations; if the lack of evidence is somehow not enough, it’s because I don’t swing from #45’s dick like his blind cult members. Having said that, I’m not a member of the Biden fluff team either. I didn’t do a jig dance in the streets or cry like Van Jones’ punk ass when Joe crossed the 270 threshold. YES, I TOO AGREE. IT WAS TIME FOR OLD CHEESY TO GET THE FUCK UP OUT OF 1600 PENNSYLVANIA AVE. We can all agree on that one. No need for any specifics. That would make this shit a ten-page blog. But if Biden and Kamala don’t get the job done for MY folk…fuck them too. Joe said it out his own mouth. He knows he owes Black folk. He has to do right, as right as he can considering the composition of the Senate when all is said and done 1.6.2021, the day after the run-offs in Georgia (or a few days after depending on the count). Everyone wants to reference Joe’s words of extreme vitriol and bury him for the federal crime bill from the 1990s. Yes, he said a lot of shit that was absolute fuckery. He gotta wear that. He also apologized. He admitted he was wrong. I have to respect a man who has enough nut sack to apologize when he’s wrong. In addition, all 99 of the other senators agreed with him. The bill passed 100-0. That in no way absolves old Sleepy Joe of his fuckery, but it does mean he doesn’t deserve 100% of the blame either. I’m a fair man. I’m willing to give him a chance at his word. But he better do right. And as for Kamala, much respect to my Nubian-Asian American sister. My sis Jon-Jon hit me up as soon as she heard the word. Jon-Jon is an AKA. Kamala is her soror. I’m happy that my sis is elated. But Kamala ain’t my cousin. We all know she locked plenty of niggas up out Cali. Shit, I don’t know how many of those MF were guilty as sin. I don’t know if any were innocent. I just know that her job was to fill beds in Pelican Bay. I don’t fuck with prosecutors in any of the 50 states. My expectations for her are pinned to Biden’s. I’ll tell you like Ray told Stevie before he passed, “we shall see”. I’m not gonna duck the obvious thought on your mind. Yes, I voted for Sleepy Joe. And it wasn’t because I’m a big fan. Post candidate debates and headed to the primaries, my choice for president was the educator, Senator Elizabeth Warren. But I would’ve voted for Lucifer (excluding Bloomberg – fuck him) to get that Adderall sniffing racist out the Oval Office. Now let’s see if I did in fact vote for the demon child…
 
When it comes to politics on Negro social media and in Black America, our people usually fall into one of five categories: casual to don’t fuck with politics (non-impassioned), those who keep their views to themselves and stay neutral, sheep, “woke” MF, and revolutionaries. I’ll skate through reasons 1-3 in the time and with the ease it took Kyrie to dribble the ball up the court and through all five of his teammates on the other side of the scrimmage in that Team USA practice 2012. One and two are both silent, but for different reasons. I can respect both, as long as they remain silent in the aftermath. I either don’t wanna hear shit because you didn’t have shit to say beforehand or because you didn’t have shit to say beforehand. Got it? Cool. Now for the sheep. I can’t stand you believe anything ass nonproductive eaters. You’ll believe any damn thing you read on the blogs or your dumbass friends tell you. A google search literally takes seconds. Find some damn truth out for yourself before you jump on social media with some dumb shit you heard in a crystal meth cloud while in your favorite Facebook group. Go swan dive in the Hudson and drown. You’re useless.
 
Now comes the main event – the woke ass niggas across the globe. The part conspiracy theorist, part nightmare holders that are littered across the internet. The everyone is gay/coon/illuminati/satanic contingency, all with no shred of evidence I might add. Those are usually the MF on your social media with all the bullshit, no evidence, and no solutions. They not only dog anyone who makes any type attempt to make shit better, they also tear down their own people. I can understand you not being in agreement with the next man’s plan. No one said you were obligated to. But to go at them like Iron Mike did Michael Spinks is sinister. You can disagree without dogging your own kind out on social media. Next thing you know, about 50 troll accounts from some wypipo somewhere hit the “like” button. Hate gets distributed with every view. What’s even worse than that is the lack of any type of plan. Shit, if you have a solid plan and see the next man’s shit as irrelevant, I ain’t mad at all. You might just be right on point. And I might just agree with you. And I might even join in and tell the next MF their shit is basura. But if you’re just openly hating for no known reason, trolling for likes and bedlam, fuck you. Shut your bitch ass up and go climb a tree. Sucker ass MF.
 
As soon as I heard MSNBC proclaim Biden as the winner, I immediately jumped on Twitter to gauge the audience. 80% jubilee, 20% fuck Sleepy Joe, and not from ruby red Republicans (I unfollow all proven MAGAt). The one-fifth anger came from my own folk. Most said we would be worse off than with Cheesy. They dished out every piece of propaganda evil old Rudy Giuliani would spew in a press conference in a parking lot with no major media outlet covering it. And I was like damn, do they really believe that anyone could be worse than #45? We’re talking about a devil that I’ve known all too well since the age of 10. So, I began to dig through tweets for a plan, a counterattack. I couldn’t find any. Cool. I just kept scrolling the TL to see what errbody had to say. Then I saw my lil bro @96_SKY (Tory Dro) talking his noise. I thought it was aimed at Sleepy Joe. It was. I could dig it. But then I began to wonder, does bro really think King Adderall is a better option? So, I went at it with my folk. And he clapped right back. Then we played Agassi/ Sampras until I got pissed off and inboxed bro. I told him I felt like he came at me kinda sideways on his last tweet. He fired back that he felt I came at him disrespectful off the jump ball. Then, like two kings do in a sit-down, we ironed our differences out and respected the other king’s opinion. We understood that we didn’t have to completely agree, as long as both our visions were beneficial to our people. But Dro inspired me. I was looking all too eagerly for one of my younger brothers who had a vision for our folk, a brother I could build with. I’d found him. I wanted to continue with the elevation. I wanted to put the discussion here on this blog for all to see and interpret for themselves.
 
So, I asked him what his plan was. He plugged me with The Black Authority YouTube channel. I listened to “What Are Black People’s Demands” to get a better understanding of my brother’s views and vision. Let’s talk about it. Dro’s vision is based around absolute, uncompromised Black empowerment, with seven specific points:
 
1.     Our own Black agenda
2.     Economic empowerment
3.     Total dismantling of white supremacy
4.     White supremacy & police violence are human rights violations
5.     Schools can no longer be weaponized against Black kids
6.     Remove ALL symbols of institutionalized racism on public grounds
7.     Mandatory 20% public/private government contracts reserved for Black business
 
Dro wants these terms to be met for Black folk. Not any other race, respectfully. It is long overdue for America to do right by Black folk. That includes reparations. I’ll continue by saying that I absolutely agree with my brother. If not, shit will never be good for us-skinned folk. Our own Black agenda is first for a reason. We’ve always been last in America. That day is over. Dro stressed that we need to be on-code, a Black first code. Dro said, “Because white supremacy is a code [so] we have to stay on code to defeat it. We don’t follow leaders, we follow the code.” Again, I absolutely concur.
 
I’m going to laser focus on point #4 because it is where my vision/plan begins. Schools can no longer be weaponized against Black children. I’ve been in the school system the better part of two decades. I have zero respect and faith in the public-school system. My vision to the top is directly correlated to education (as it should be). I want us to start our own charter and/or religion-based schools in every Black community. Take that federal funding like other cultures do and put our own charter schools with our own educators in our own neighborhoods. My model is in the spirit of Mr. Geoffrey Canada and Harlem Children’s Zone on 2fifth in the world of Harlem, NYC. Recruit children at pre-kindergarten age to be nurtured, cultivated, and educated in the same school from start to finish alongside their own friends and neighbors. Mentor them from their formative years on. Incorporate contextual 1619-present history. Leave all the glorious lies and bullshit floating in the Harlem River. Teach our babies that America was built off of African slave labor. Teach them that racism has endured heavy to this very day. Teach them about all our inventors, scientists, writers, scholars, and martyrs. Begin mandatory fundamental economics courses in third or fourth grade. Ensure 12-month meal programs for students. Stress home and property ownership from late elementary on. Provide full academic scholarships to historically Black colleges and universities (HBCU) for high school graduates who participated from pre-k – 12 if they pursue STEM, Journalism, or law degrees. By the time those babies have graduated medical school, law school, and graduate mass media programs, it will inherently be embedded in them and imperative for them to come back to serve their own community and the Black community as a nation. Then we’ll have our own doctors, our own lawyers, our own journalists for our own publications, and our own politicians. Then we will have planted the seeds for our silent revolution. The only other alternative is bloodshed and death.
 
I definitely feel that all training does not have to be academic. I am a big proponent of vocational training. We need healthcare professionals, auto mechanics, HVAC specialists, beauticians, hair stylists, food service workers, etc. They are an equal and vital part of our collective struggle. Their work is genius in its own right. I would also have this option for the parents of students enrolled in our own charter and diverse religion-based schools. Give them the opportunity to learn a trade to help feed and take care of their families. Help them get off public assistance if they depend on the state. Lift our folk up.
 
White folk and other races are welcome to help the cause, as long as they understand that, off rip, this is our shit. We’re not including anyone else. This is a literal cosa nostra. If they agree, they are welcome to aid in our movement. If not, they can step the fuck off. We already have the world against us, a few more opps ain’t shit.
 
This isn’t an easy agenda to accomplish. It’s gonna take a generation or two to have it fully implemented. Most of us won’t be around to see it manifested. But rest assured that if we follow the plan, we shall see the mountain top. If you disagree with me, that’s cool. Just show me a better plan. That’s my time y’all. Discuss this with your folk. Build.
 
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MNR: Young Black Entrepreneurs 

Peace and blessings, world. It’s your guy Mr. Ty Monday 115, the Great. And yes, that is my full title. Get it right, bitch, or I might just have a bag full of produce on deck and throw all the tomatoes at you. You never know. Regardless, make sure you attach the Mister. That’s word to Red Onez. It’s Monday, y’all. No, I mean literally. It’s Monday, y’all, the start of the work week. That means there’s new motivation. I definitely pray every night before I take slumber, but I especially thank the Lord every Sunday night because I’ve made it through another week of life. I’m pragmatic. It begins with surviving the 24. Then, I thank him for the 168 (hours in the week), and so on and so on. My favorite history teacher ever, Jose Garrigo, reminds his students at the beginning of each school year that everyone has the exact same 168 hours in a week to make things happen. From there, it all comes down to how you budget your time. That’s some of the realest shit I’ve ever heard. It’s word…life. Word to my brother Erik Waller. Anyways, welcome to tonight’s MNR. Let’s get it.

We all know what tomorrow is. 11.3.2020. I’m not gonna beat you upside the head with political rhetoric or scare tactics to vote for a particular candidate. With the climate of our nation, it’s safe to say that if you haven’t long since made your mind up on whom to vote for, you don’t give a flying 747 fuck about tomorrow’s results (although final tallies may take days to count). And that’s cool, too. If you don’t follow politics or care…you don’t follow politics or care. Me trying to convince you (considering you’re registered) is tantamount to giving lashes to a deceased filly. But for those who are registered and have not sent in an absentee ballot or taken part in early voting --- take your lazy ass to the polls tomorrow and press the button(s). Whom you choose is on you. 

P.S. Don’t ever forget that more than just the presidential vote is on the ballot. New Jersey --- let’s get this marijuana legislation passed. It’s that time.

Disclaimer: The next part of this blog is about battle rap. If you don’t like battle rap and/or don’t care to know anything about battle rap, please and kindly fast forward to the next section.

Halloween Saturday night’s card with the Murda Mook vs. Tay Roc main event has set the battle rap internet on six alarm fire. The first three battles were clear 30s: Loso smoked a decent Emerson Kennedy (better than his UM2 showing), Jerry Wess outclassed an overworked Danny Myers (who had a major stumble in his second), and B-Dot showed UM2 champ Holmzie the God that there’s levels to this battle rap shit. Then came the main event…

I leave the official recaps to Showtime SP and my nigga Vada Fly. I’m just gonna give my unbiased, objective opinion. Mook won that battle 2-1. He edged the first and killed Roc in the third. He disarmed all his bombastic gun bars and talked to him as a grown man. I’m not big on the tranny angle without proof but I’ll say this: you can find a lot out by paying attention to body language. Roc looked like he saw what Pandora had in box when Mook spit his third. It was spooky (pun intended). One thing I know for certain is that battle rap is a preference sport. And most of us are very biased in favor of our favorite rappers. But even then, you have to call it straight up at the end of the day. Mook talked to Roc’s soul. His bars were tailored to Roc. Roc had a lot of general bars in his rounds. They were nice, as usual. But they weren’t enough for Mook. I don’t put much faith into the fan vote. That’s their opinion and Roc is arguably the “face” of URL, easily the more popular of the two. But I saw some bullshit Saturday night from other battle rappers and URL itself that made me want to use the emoji with yellow man’s hand on his chin. First, I noticed that for the first time since Caffeine has aired URL events and used the in-app message board, battle rapper messages dominated the board. Fans literally couldn’t get a word in because battle rappers both against and for Mook spammed the messages. Boo (pun intended). I also noticed that Mook’s round one voting mysteriously hit a wall at a certain point when both battlers were in a virtual dead heat. After that, Mook’s votes slowed considerably while Roc’s continued to pour in. Eye dunno. Felt kinda odd to me. But check the bloggers and other battle rappers’ opinions out. Damn near all (who aren’t pro-Cave Gang) gave the battle to Mook. And there were plenty of 30s in the mentions. #ijs

Rabbit hole time…

Big ups and love infinite to my blood cousin/lil sister Leaha. Her favorite rap song ever is “One Love” by Whodini. It inspired the classic Nas song of the same title as well as the great, late Prodigy’s “Y.B.E.” featuring the legend B.G. (one love to that man, no pun at all). I was listening to the Prodigy track the other day when a recurring thought came to mind. Whenever I’m listening to timeless material, I at times ponder what it would’ve been like to have been present in the session(s). I can only imagine how real that session had to have been with Pee Double and B.Gizzle together in the same studio, burning trees and trading war stories. It doesn’t get any more ill. We have heard about how crazy the Tribe’s Midnight Marauders sessions were, and not necessarily from any of the members (RIP Phife Diggy, miss you). Mos Def talked about how he’d troop from Brooklyn to Manhattan just to hang around and profit off the vibes. Pharrell talked about how he came up from Virginia Beach just to be amidst the vibes. Might I mention he was still in high school? You know that had to be some legendary shit (obviously Monday, they’ve heard the album). Anyway, here’s a few sessions I wish I were simply in proximity to when the classic shit was laid down:

Earth, Wind, and Fire – “Can’t Hide Love” – the “ah’s”
I wasn’t even alive when the natural elements laid this masterpiece down. The year was 1975. The album, titled Gratitude, was arguably their best. It also included “Devotion”, “Reasons”, and “Shining Star”. All three are considered classics in their own right, but they can’t fuck with “Can’t Hide Love”. You know what time it is as soon as the trumpets blow. But what makes me wish I were alive and present was their iconic ending. Y’all know what I’m finna say. Yup – the “ah’s”. If you don’t know what the eff I’m talmbout, I’ll fill you in. Toward the end of the track after the last lyric, the band harmonizes in crescendo, simply singing a series of “ah’s” throughout the last minute or so of the track. It’s more than amazing. It’s other worldly. Those boys left earth that session.

Rufus featuring Yvette Marie Stephens (better known as Chaka Khan) – 
“Sweet Thing” – the “love me now or I’ll go crazy” ending
1975 must’ve been one heaven of a year. In addition to the aforementioned song, Rufus and Chaka graced us with its existence on their fourth album, titled Rufus featuring Chaka Khan. A generation later (in my era), the GOAT Mary J. Blige introduced it to my life and reintroduced it to the music world. But even though her record was amazing, like most remakes, they don’t quite match the original. Chaka was on another level, sexy personified. Sensuous. Sincere. Amazing. It was personal. And as amazing as it was, the ending was on a whole other level. The rest of the team joined in vocally in to finish the song together in harmony: “You’re the heat, you are my fire. You’re not mine, I can’t deny it. Don’t you hear me talking baby? Love me now or I’ll go crazy!” They rode out on repeat through the end of the track. Chaka’s vocals dominate, but the subtle background harmony from the fellas give it a boost of HGH and seal its perfection. 

Tupac Shakur, All Eyez on Me (entire album)
“Out on bail, fresh outta jail, California dreamin’!” Pac scripted the beginning to this entry much better than I ever could even fathom, so I didn’t. It was early 1996 (my senior year in high school) and Pac had just been released from Clinton Correctional Prison. He immediately signed a record contract with his bail signee, one Suge Knight and Death Row Records, and took two whole weeks to record the first double album of original material in rap history. It birthed classic tracks like the afore referenced “California Love”, “I Ain’t Mad At You”, “All About You”, and MANY others (those were just the singles). It also included a plethora of legendary rappers, singers, and producers, including the Death Row camp (which still had Dr. Dre at the time) , Devante, K-Ci, and JoJo from the iconic R&B group Jodeci (Devante on production, K-Ci and JoJo on vocals), E-40, Method Man, Redman, and former Guy front man Aaron Hall. The only thing that matched the project’s greatness was its aura. Death Row was the number one record label at the time and everything the Row did was a movie. Dre was arguably the best producer. Pac was pretty much the most enigmatic figure in hip hop. Pac’s signing placed them firmly atop the mountain. I wish I were there to be a part, knowing how Pac moved. I would’ve had all the energy in the world. Record all day, party all night, get some groupie cutty, sleep for a couple hours (literally), repeat process. 

I certainly hope you enjoyed the blog. But if not, just remember that it didn’t cost you one red cent, you trout mouthed heathen. I hope you take a misstep off the walkway leading to your front doorsteps, twist your ankle and recover, only to step in shit. Peruse the archives if this was your first time reading the blog. Holla at the Crew on IG @ theunbearablescrew or on Twitter @crewunB so you can scoop some fly ass apparel for this cold ass autumn and winter on deck. That’s my time y’all. Stay paid and stay blessed. Water.

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