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by The Squad MC
Inspired by some Lil Homeys round' the way.
An East Coast
Block, 2:30am, Year of Our Lord, 2003
Wazhappenin' peeps? You might know me my name is Rap Music. I was born supposedly
in New York and then migrated to the west coast. Actually, I was born in Africa
from the first kick of the baseline drum, ya feel me? Communicating through village
grapevines about what was happenin', had happened and what needed to happen for
our survival. Centuries later, when I arrived in America, I first stomped my Timbs
in New York. Some say the Bronx, some say Queens, so I give love to em' both.
I cast a spell on the west coast as well. I have to give props where props are
due. I like to call New York my pops and I refer to South Central Los Angeles
as my Godfather. Fair? I think so. Not to leave out my HoodGods from the South;
ya know Face, P and wild-azz Luke put it down for me. When I jumped to the Midwest,
I quickly learned to respect some serious OG's. Nothing is Common on how they
get down - much respect to the Southside. Most important, please do not confuse
me with my little brother, Hip-Hop, you know him right? He is the multi-diverse,
commercially charged, culture-creating other half that has made my empire grow
with some successes and some failures. I love my Lil Bro, but I always have to
keep his azz in line or we will lose our family soul. WHO STOLE THE SOUL?
So I guess you are wondering why I am writing to you. I
decided to write to you after an experience I had a few nights ago with some Lil
Homeys on a block in the grand ole' YOU S OF A. So the Lil Homeys and me were
kickin' it, blazin' the Gods with that sticky, talking about Kobe, babes and doing
bids for various felonious activities. The Lil Homeys wanted to show me some love
so they started kickin' four bars, then eight, then sixteen for me. I was listening
and feeling their flow no doubt. Their nails were dirty, clothes were rough, stance
was purposeful and their RAP was intact. HOWEVER, I was dismayed and saddened
that the first joints they spit consisted of the following themes - murder, s*x,
drugs, violence, jail and old-school beat downs. I was like D*MN, what the f*ck
is happening to me? Do these kids think that's all I'm about? Do they think the
issues they are rapping about is all they are made of? Three of them have done
bids and at least two of them were strapped with tools of local destruction. I
gotta put the brakes on this sh*t...RAP IS OUTTA CONTROL!
As they rapped, I said nothing. I smiled and congratulated them on being able
to spit like Redman, slang like Jigga, get deep like Pac and keep the beat moving
like Dre. Talented Lil Homeys no doubt. But I had to ask them, "can you throw
down some lyrics without cursing or talking about clearing the block with your
nine half-cocked?" Much to my amazement, THEY DID. Clean, poetic words
about not having their pops around, no money, living in the hood, friends that
have died and what it feels like to be locked up. I was amazed and almost tearful
as the Lil Homeys reminded me that even though they are on the block, they have
feelings and understanding of what I am made of. I am RAP, I told you before,
I don't need a Hummer or Benz from the showroom floor. What I need is for
all the Lil Homeys spitting sixteen to understand that RAP is about information,
survival, the truth, the beat, the feel, the smell and the improvement of the
ghetto life. Don't get me wrong, gangsters' will always be a part of the life.
Big props to the Don's that held it down the best way they could by setting up
empires to make money for survival. I do not condone the violence that they feel
is necessary but it is what it is. How difficult is it to make it outta the hood
using contemporary routes (College, Sports or Work) if many of your peers and
or family members have taught you the underground, G-Unit route? It's hard, d*mn
near impossible sometimes. We gotta lift them up people. It's up to us. WE
MUST STEAL BACK THE SOUL.
I strolled on and left the Lil Homeys
on the block where you can find them. They are not ringside every time the fights
on, and most times they are not in the big-black truck with the Carolina lights
on. Most times they are on the block, spittin' 16, hand-to-hand for that cream
and standin' all raw, looking' mean. My mind drifted to their original lyrics
about mayhem and madness. I was wondering what made them think the first words
to spit should be about those issues. Is it Fifty's popularity, Snoop's flow,
Pac's life, Biggie's legend, or is it the record labels and radio stations that
define me as the messenger of these issues? Whatever the case, I need change.
I've been through the gun battles, the drug showcase, 22's, Bling-Bling, Big-Booty
Videos, non-lyrical hoes and sold-out shows. But now RAP is back. I'm back to
take back my streets, the clubs, the airwaves, the videos and the minds of all
that follow me. So get outta my way if you ain't reppin' with respect for me,
RAP MUSIC. I was birthed to make you live, not die. WHO AM I? WHO AM I?
- Big shout to Camron, Santana and The Diplomats for that joint. I'm blasting
that joint as I pen these words.
And people in music that continue to
promote excessive violence, mindless lyrics, the lyrical ills of misogyny and
the glorification of s*x, repetitive lines (LIKE BONECRUSHER) -- I AINT NEVER
SCARED, I AINT NEVER SCARED---he should be scared until he has longevity like
other artists that have made me their career. I ain't hatin' on you Bone. I heard
you can flow but I would never know from what the radio and video rotation tells
me. Ya feel me Big Homey? Stay Streal! So I am reaching out to the source. You,
the rapper, the creator, the visionaries that keep this multi-billion dollar machine
running for me and my Lil Bro, Hip-Hop. BRING ME BACK HOME. RESCUE ME MAN.
NOW. TODAY. Do not allow a producer or distributor to create you in the image
of what's ruining your own hood. Sure, the beats are kickin' with Fifty's music
and various other icons of music-gangsters. But simply because the beats are kickin'
or you feel a need to tell what has happened on the gangster side, FLIP THE SCRIPT
sometimes, d*mn. Show me you can rip sixteen without gettin' mean, dirty or wasted.
Bring me up. Keep me up. Livin me Up with stories about your moms, your pops,
your best friend or the first time you did a bid with the HOOK of showing me how
you have changed. Do that for me Lil Homeys. This is RAP MUSIC and I need a change.
The powers that be are coming after me and it's you that's been snitchin' on me.
Sure, I like to blaze, sure, I like the babes, sometimes I like to pop my nine
(at a range) but why must you tell the world that in half of your songs? I started
out in the hood and what happens in the hood should stay in the hood. The route
you are taking right now is a slow death for me. AND I AIN'T GOING OUT LIKE
THAT. YOU WONT SEE ME MEMORIALIZED ON A FITTED CAP. NOW YOU CAN GET WITH THIS
OR YOU CAN GET WITH THAT. I AM RAP and THAT'S A RAP. I AM HERE TO STAY AND SO
IS MY LIL BRO HIP-HOP. Look out for him if you see him in your hood. Make sure
he is reppin' properly. SHOULD I FIRE BET and MTV?
Peace to all
the homeys that have been shot down, locked down, beat down or tossed around because
I am too late in writing this missive.
RAP MUSIC HAS LEFT THE KEYBOARD.
POLL QUESTION - ANSWER AND LET'S SEE
Rap
music is not what it used to be. Some say it has improved while others think it
stinks. Tell us Subscribers, what do you think?
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