#MNR: Daddy’s Home
“Keep an eye on your lip, nigga, watch your mouth.”
We may as well get this out the way off the MF jump ball... If you ever in your fuck boy ass life verbally disrespect Brandi and I catch wind of it, I’m a Will Smith your bitch ass ON CAMERA to the tenth degree. I’m talmbout hands and feet. I’m a stretch your sucka ass like Tsunami and the 60’s did that nigga last night at the URL event. My baby’s coming to get me out the clink quick, fast, and in a hurry. And if she’s unable to [get me out] that night, I’m a be more than comfortable in whatever cell I’m confined to. If ya tink meh fa joke, try me. Fuck that. Don’t ever disrespect my queen, especially in front (of) the whites. Keep that shit to yourself with your funny, ugluh ass.
And listen... Miss me with that time and place bullshit. Miss me with that Black etiquette bullshit. This is America, you pussy ass MF. We have politicians in congress who violate MF damn near every day. We have “journalists” who spew pure fuckery every day on television. The last president regularly violated all types of MF. Plenty of you frank stand subscription holders applauded his attitude and bravado. Y’all conveniently look the other way or close your ears when [fill in a name] spews vitriol and/or acts out of pocket. Shit, half the country still believes 1.6.2021 was completely within bounds. Fuck out my face and mentions. I’m giving Will a pass. Fuck you if you have a problem with it. See me when you see me.
RANDOM BUT NECESSARY
Rafael “Ted” Cruz, you’re a whole bitch. You let tRump Chris Rock your wife’s good name repeatedly during the 2016 Republican presidential nomination run. I’m sure she cussed your punk ass under her breath after watching the Academy Awards last night.
Big ups to Iladelph. The aforementioned Fresh Prince took the best actor Oscar home for his portrayal of Richard Williams, father of tennis legends Venus and Serena, in “King Richard.” I’m proud of you Will. Fuck what the dickeaters on the internet say about errthang. Live your life. You’re always good in my book. Much love to my first cousin Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson, drummer for the world’s eighth wonder The Roots, who won the best documentary Oscar for “Summer of Soul,” the documentary of the historic concerts that took place in Harlem’s Mt. Morris/Marcus Garvey Park (one of my old stomping grounds) during the summer of 1969. Love both of y’all brothers. I’m proud of both of y’all brothers. Here’s to Black excellence.
Last week’s Supreme Court nomination hearings were the spectacle I expected them to be. The R’s vowed to keep the proceedings civil, then proceeded to ask Mrs. Ketanji Brown Jackson every bigoted question their racist asses could conjure. I won’t get into the specifics because that only amplifies their intentions. I will say that I admire Ms. Brown Jackson’s cool. She was much better than I would have been. But hey, I’m not cut out for that life. I’m much more comfortable playing the petty role (call me Richard or Tom). But anyway, Super Joe Manchin has given his blessing, so it looks like the Supreme Court will soon have its first female African American justice. From what I’ve read thus far, I’m almost certain that she and I don’t share many political views, but that doesn’t mean I can’t support her. Salute, KBJ. It’s been a long time coming.
Boy, if y’all see the fuckery I see every day in my student’s fourth period class. You’d completely understand why the public school system is in shambles.
My mother/family/village instilled many virtues within me, but I think that the greatest of them all may be accountability. I learned from day zero that I had no choice but to stand tall for any and all acts of fuckery. “You buy the ticket, you ride the ride.” It’s plain and simple. I was never afforded the “privilege” of being able to duck accountability. I can say with confidence that it’s one of the reasons why I’m respected by many. If I’m wrong, I have no problem admitting that I’m wrong. Furthermore, I can’t and won’t let an innocent person take the blame for something I did. I remember when I broke the wall in the lobby freshman week at VUU. The lobby was the only place in the dormitory where there was cable television. There was a pool table and Coke machines. Obviously, it was the hangout spot in Huntley World. I literally went down a line of dorm mates like the pigs did Sonny and the crew in Bronx Tale and determined whether a MF would rat on me. Of course, I knew the squad wouldn’t, but not everyone was squad. Even though I got a smooth “no” from everyone, I went ahead and told the dormitory coordinator that I was guilty of the calamity. Even if no one woulda snitched (allegedly), I didn’t want to be the reason that the lobby was closed. The rest of the dormitory didn’t deserve to suffer because of my fuckery. But that’s how I’m built. Amidst the prime run of my drug dealing era, I called Shareon and told her that if I saw a casket or a prison cell it wasn’t her fault. She raised me to do the right thing. She instilled all the best virtues in me. It was my fault and my fault alone that I chose to run the streets and move work. I didn’t want her second-guessing herself and/or feeling guilty if she got that call no mother wants to receive. I’m still the same person. I’m going to stand tall no matter what.
I don’t knock the youth of today, but I’m hyper critical when it comes to accountability. I watch too many kids do whatever TF they want to do, unabashedly. But the moment a neophyte gets pinched, they want to duck responsibility, whether it be lying about their actions or placing the blame on the next MF. They’ll blame a homie. They’ll blame their parents. They’ll blame anyone other than themselves. That’s pure bullshit. Stand tall MF. You were tougher than a $2 steak prior to getting caught. Keep that same energy. Apologize if that’s what the situation calls for. Do your time ten toes down if you blow trial. But don’t take the bitch nigga way out. I don’t respect it.
Look at me
(Take a real good look at me)
Don’t turn away
(Don’t you turn away like I did my son)
Look me in the eyes, junior
(I’m making no more promises)
I’m trying to find the words to say
Daddy’s home (don’t you know)
Daddy’s home (said, your daddy’s back home)
*For all you niggas who bit my style and didn’t give me my MF credit*
Drake and Uncle Charlie have spoken for me. It let it slide for a minute, but that’s past tense.
Daddy’s home, MF. Go fetch my house shoes and pour me a cup of ice water.
Peace to all 54 African nations, especially the Black Star of Ghana and Nigeria. It’s love infinite from Accra to Lagos.
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