MNR: The Return of Monday
“Even a genius asks questions.”
Peace and blessings. I hope y’all enjoyed the PALZ trilogy. I forfeited all pride and machismo to open the blinds to the windows of my soul. I never ducked judgement for any of my confessions, shortcomings, blunders, insecurities, or all-out failures. “When it was against all odds, I was at my best. When it was me against the world, I stuck out my chest.” I only ask that one respects my gangsta, motherfucker. I had enough nut sack to tell it, in all its inglorious, unveiled truth. I guess it’s the same line of reasoning Eminem used in his battle versus Falcon/new Captain America at the end of 8 Mile. But enough of all that. The folk said that all that introspective shit was cool but fuck all that. We need that uncut doojey. You know, the raw shit, that shit they keep coming back to cop. They said they want that old Monday. The “don’t bring that fat MF back here again” Monday. The “damn, he rolling another one?” Monday. The “Nigga, I was there when you hit the…” --- never mind. I don’t need federal prosecutor Giuliani or Virginia Commonwealth Attorney Greenbacker on my ass (pause – sike! I’m 42 MF years old – what I look like saying pause). What I’m basically saying is, this is ONE OF THOSE. So, if you haven’t already, twist you one of those Woods, Grabba, Fronto, Raw, some Phillies, Bamboo, or whatever you put your satin in. My old school fans gon love this one.
Whenever we have fully turned the corner on this Covid nightmare (who knows when that will be), I’m going to face one of my few fears and fall through an open mic night at a comedy club somewhere in the city. And I’m gon step my fat ass on stage and spit. I’ve been told by too many people that I should do stand up, but I’ve always contended that my brand of humor is conversational. The thought of standing in front of 100 MF with scripted jokes is daunting. I’m not nervous about the crowd or bombing my set, I’m nervous about whether or not the crowd will understand my particular brand of humor. But we’ll see, cuz I’m really not that nervous. Actually, I’m not nervous at all. I’ve got about four minutes of my set down pact, like already reh ta go. It’s centered around being fat in America and the many different aspects of taking a shit as a fat man in America. I’m telling y’all…
And if you don’t like my set, kick rocks. Then kiss my toe.
I just had a flashback to 2012. That was my last summer in Jeff and my last 116 St. Festival. We lost the crib by the end of the year after damn near a half century in Spanish Harlem. But enough of the sad shit. I’m focusing on the good shit. Remember Summer ’12, when Mr. West was still in his right mind? Remember the album he dropped that summer? Yeah. That Cruel Summer project. That was my nigga Jose and my shit. Cuzzo E. Bradley, the Greatest still had his DJ equipment set up in the crib, but we really just needed the speakers and auxiliary cord. Nigga…we used to blast “Higher” at obscene volumes and quite often. Remember Pastor Ma$e verse? Uptown shit frfr. “We both in here. High then a motherfucker. High then a motherfucker. High then a motherfucker. Yeah…”
That really was my shit. And we used to blast music ALL night plenty weekends. BLAST. Total disrespect. Those were the final days of a great era of my life.
This new Benny the Butcher project “Burden of Proof” is kinda nice. Translation: it’s nice AF. I’ve been a Griselda and BSF fan for a couple of years now. I fux with Westside and Conway heavy, but Benny is def my favorite of the trio, and that’s saying a lot because all three of those niggas are nice with it. I never woulda guessed that the kings of New York would be upstate in Buffalo. But they’re dropping the most consistent material out the empire state. I’m not too Uptown to the point where the homeland jades my objectivity. “War Paint”, “Trade It All”, and “Sly Greene” are my favorites (at the moment). Hit-Boy, fresh off his triumphant collaboration with the #GOAT Nasir, teamed up with the Butcher to create 12 works of art. Support the artists you enjoy. That is all.
That “Trade It All” is my shit. Those two vocal samples Hit works in and out of the beat are craaaaaaaaaaaaaaazy. And Benny got the realest talk out RN.
Quick bit of wisdom:
You will never get more out of anything you put less than enough into. That’s simple mathematics. In order to be blessed your work has to be worthy of being blessed. I said that to say that you can’t expect to be “extra” blessed if you don’t at the very least put your fair share into the pot. You have to give more to get more. Until you realize this, prosperity will be difficult to maintain. Notice I didn’t use “attain”.
I promise I will never in life be phased by the disrespect of a nigga with four outfits. Frank stand. You miserable, pussy ass troglodyte. I hope you step in shit and stain your mother’s shag carpet with those cooked Nikes you wear on Monday through Thursday.
Imagine trying to navigate through Covid with three school-aged learners who share a bedroom. One is a special needs student, one is a female amidst puberty, and one is early elementary. I just want to drop some perspective for those of us who may be disillusioned because of very surmountable and temporary circumstances. Always remember that there are those amongst you who have it tougher or worse. If that doesn’t resonate than I’ll be the first to let you know that you are a gorilla turd. I say this with heavy conviction because I too was once primate feces. Cowboy and/or cowgirl up. We got this. That’s my time y’all. Time to shake a leg and get up in the wind, sugar.