To finish the read, peep the remainder at the IATL blog HERE!!! Be sure to watch the clip too. Quite amusing.

The pic on the right is still smashing most females round my way (except any female who gets an attitude when reading this). Also, I know Kim Kardashian's figure is probably still sitting right, but she's just not as impactful w/o the works.

WARNING: Real talk, aka "sincerity", is often known to get criticized and belittled. I welcome it all...

Anyway, I recently finished recording this verse to a “Bizzy Body” remix (Peep Here) and I got inspired to speak more on the inspiration for some of the words. You see, I spent a large part of my middle teenage years reprogramming myself against America’s standards of beauty, and though I swear I did a good job of fighting off the “light is right” and “got kinks/you stink” ways, I’ll be damned if mass media isn’t tricking your boy as of late. I am on complete tilt from those “acne who?” skinned, “don’t nothing sag on me daddy” images that they’re feeding me even though I know those vids and pics are a product of good genes, clever camera angles, a dope graphic design artist, and an even doper make-up artist.

I mean, I’ma very realistic dude. I know that any 23+, bubble top, pretty-faced female, sitting on a 40 water, who doesn’t do calisthenics 5 x/day is gonna have a coupla of them marks stretched on her body. Furthermore, she'll likely have some “pouty lip shaped” pieces of meat right at their "bootythigh" and a few more shelved on her sides. That’s just real life. Why trip? Yet and still, I find myself gently rubbing my pinky on the computer screen wondering when the “scratch and sniff” monitors are gonna hit the market when I gaze upon these CGI womens. Furthermore, although a few of these mythological creatures do exist with the Trifecta (booty, bust, face), if one ever gets the chance to meet them, they’re either illiterate or 5 yrs and one Twinkie away from looking like their body is melting.

And what’s sad is I’ma hypocrite. Anybody who knows....

We're popping off the new home base, so ya'll can peep the rest at the new IATL blog pop-off HERE!!!

“FACT 1”
1)    Xzibit went to kick it w/ Diddy at his party on South Beach
2)    Xzibit is chillin w/ Karinne “Superhead” Stephans
3)    Puffy warns X to the Z that Superhead will tape you doing questionable activities concerning fingers in anal areas
4)    Xzibit is slightly taken aback that fingers go in anal areas, but still rolls with Diddy to the club of Diddy’s choice
5)    At the club, Xzibit is further taken aback by the dudes kissing dudes and the “booty bucket naked” man dancing
6)    XZ decides to leave the club in a cab and considers the “kickin it” night w/ Diddy “suspect”

Here’s Xzibit’s audio recalling the night

“FACT 2”
It is a popular conception that fish (namely goldfish) will grow to the size of the bowl that they are in.  You put them in a small bowl, they will be small.  You put that same fish in a larger bowl and it would have grown to be larger.   This is a myth.    The truth of the matter is that a goldfish will grow regardless of the bowl they are in.  However, when that fish’s environment is too limited and factors impose, that fish will stifle out and die before reaching its full growth potential.  Poor Nemo…

So one can infer that different goldfish have different growth potential that can easier be seen when the “sky’s the limit”.
______________
Ok…so is there a point to these two “facts” Piph or have you just reached a new level of randomness?  Actually, both.  Glad you asked.
________________
I’ve long had the theory that people expand to their limits (actually that’s a popular theory, but I’m a bita (aka rapper)).  The more passionate you are/desire to be great at something, the less the limits matter to you.  Also, the less limits you have, the more likely it is that you will fulfill your passion/reach your desire.  However, problems do occur.  Peep game:

1)    Drug addicts keep seeking that “higher high” until they end up broke and strung out with that trashy, burnt metal smell.  (Ya’ll know if you know.)
2)    Kobe feeds off of competition, challenge, and becoming “the greatest”,  but is borderline an unlikeable person without heavy PR spin.  (Did Nike give him a contract yet?)
3)     Mandela’s still trynna save the world, but has been locked up dropped off by his wife because of it.
4)   The neighbor in my apartment keeps searching for the ultimate plant fertilizer, but knows we’ll only allow so much before we reenact the “burning bush” story.  (Just playing kinda.  We love Ms. B.)

In summary, there’s basically pros and cons to the growth of the passionate and “limitless”.
________________

With the obvoious now stated, here’s a possible scenario of how Diddy got to that club and thumb wrestling point.  Let’s start from the beginning:

Dude’s a known and self-proclaimed freak.  He likes womens.  He gets a lil power and money.  One on 2 action?  No problem.  Dimes?  Of course.  1 on 3?  Cool.  Him vs. however many he can fit into his ride?  That’s what I’m talking bout.  Then he probably let’s his homeboys in on the festivities b/c he’s looking out for the fam and wants to share his world.  Up next, he hits one of those “Eyes Wide Shut” parties (probably w/ his white friends) and while they’re doing that Matrix 2 scene, a foreign object drifts across his body.  Not cool, but when in Rome…  Some other things go down that bother him too, but hey, he’s living out fantasies, so you gotta take it all.  Also, when he’s real w/ himself he thinks some of it was kinda cool.  Throw in some drank, a few of them pills, and Heidi-Ho.  After that, he’s hitting up Cupids and “BetYouDontKnowWhatThisDoes.com” ordering all kinds of gadgets and swings.  He puts his close friends on to the new-new knowing he’ll isolate some, but believing they’ll keep the “code of silence”.  Those that break won’t have enough credibility and/or pull (i.e. Xzibit and anybody who’s nicknamed after a sexual action).  Thus, he keeps doing what he does.  Besides, this is Hollywood Babay!!!

Sounds plausible to me.
__________________
So…what do we take from all of this Piph?  Nothing more than the following 3 items:

#1 If Diddy is taking thumb shots and watching sword fights, I’m not surprised.  He's a passionate dude who's just grown into his questionable limitless bowl.  (Word to his 30 hr tantric sex marathon he twittered about.)  

#2 Questionable lovin and the like is the exact reason I’ll forever have self-imposed limits on myself.  I put a cap on the passion.  A black president may have broken down some barriers, but it’s still “No, we can’t” for me.

#3 I just ruined my shot at a Diddy track.  Guess I’m glad it wasn’t Dre or Timbaland who sat on an “OK” hand gesture.  I kid…dude’s fa real cool w/ me (like he cares).  Word to Sean Jean jeans.

Anyway, I just be rambling….

If there’s one thing our government has taught us in the past few months, it is no matter how deep a ditch one digs one’s own self in, if you’re valuable enough and have enough connex, the powers that be will pull tricks to pull you out.  No matter how much (or little) it makes sense, how the public feels, or there is a solid gameplan, they’re gonna try something. With that said, what multi-million $ boy needs a bailout right about now?  Yesssir, none other than the light skindeded twinkle-toes himself.  Mr. “Swing 1^st Ask Questions Last”, Chris Brown.

OK, so nothing’s proven yet to make him guilty, but let’s go on the not so long limb and assume that he did lay hands on Rihanna for whatever unjustifiable reasons.  I have assumed the minds of the PR spin doctors and outlined 3 ways young C Breezy can salvage his career.  I repeat, I’m not saying that the spin is “right”, rather I’m saying this is how the young man can still win in “the game”.  Let’s get it…

1) Make Yourself the Victim
Chris needs to chop down the Brown family tree and expose some tainted roots.  His PR needs to quickly put out how he had a messed up childhood.  I’m talking abuse by midgets from negligent, unloving parents who abandoned him in the gutters of Haiti where he learned how to dance and sing for money and his sole means of calming the pain, anger, and beast that dwells deep in his soul within. 
You know, “Good Will Hunting” / “Antwone Fisher" the game.  Society is more forgiving if they think you’re fa real, fa real jacked up.  An Oprah
couch awaits…


2) Become a Rapper
We, the rappers, know and abuse the double standard. 

Exhibit A:  Curse in a rap?  Of course.  What other words are there?  Curse on a singing milky track…you’re either semi-crass or R-Kellz. 

Exhibit B:  Cut up mad womens in macho/beastly semi-creative ways?  This aPlies to rap.  Do it in RnB?  Mmmmm…semi-kosher, but usually you still have
to do it in harmony and use words like “make love” and “passion.

Exhibit C:  Hit a womens in rap or real life?  Not cool at all, but ehhhh…you knew he was a rapper.  Do it while singing AND your main demographic is the kiddies AND she’s a star too???  Run, nigga, run…
(And it would be best to run over R-Kellz crib.  Believe me, he has that worked out too.)

3)  White Nike/Wife Her
a) Go to Barbados and beg her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Umbrella, to forgive you.
b) Make a public spectacle of yourself fully putting your pride on the line to the point of embarrassing yourself.
c) Drop all sideline chicks (that you and I both know were there the whole time).  (Note:  Only do this one after 1 &2.  Enjoy for as long as possible b/c you can’t
go back for the next 1-3 years.)
d) Slowly, but surely begin clawing your way into her life again
e) Make a hit duet with her. 
(Just don’t use the word “hit”.)
f) Jay-Z her (bka Put a Ring On It)
Why you ask?  Either America will think you just messed up and really love her OR they’ll lose remorse for a womens who puts herself in that position with you again.  Either way you’ll be back chewing Wrigley’s gum and drinking milk in no time.

All and all, the boy messed up and needs some help, but let’s not forget Rihanna’s the victim.  Sad situation.  Hopefully they can both get it right.
_____________
I must note that this here rambling does not condone nor promote whooping on females in any way.  I’m not for pollywogging females for any reason…well…I take that back.  I have 3 very special exceptions of womens I’d go all out on (and perhaps still lose).

1) Any professional female athlete (excluding chess and gymnastics).
2) My homegirl from the Bluff back in the day with the Jerry curl with a record of 16-1-1. 
(Note:  The one “L” she took was when some of the “drip” got in her eye. 
Luckily her eyesight was saved.)
3) This cold model womens I know who is about 6’, 170 lbs,
and 1.3% body fat and punches like a mule kick.  (She can both model in and secure all my vide shoots (with no extra pay of course).

Other than those 3, I’ll talk it out.

Jordan crossed over Bryon Russel in 1998, sunk the game winner, and
retired with 6 rings as the greatest. Then he came back to the Wizards
and was extra mediocre.

Jay-Z’s rap career was with unparalleled success and he left on a grand
note with the Black Album. Then he decided that that was too dope of a
way to leave, so he came back to the game as an extra regular artist w/
a dope girlfriend…but then actually fumbled his way upon some good
music and into cool-like groove again.

Madonna, the Venus sisters, pretty teeth Tiger, and every white rocker
w/ a super successful career has hit that point where they hit an all
time high, usually take a dare/risk, and hit a career slumps because of
it. The thing is they all came back. Some recover and do it bigger.
Others DMX it…

Now it’s Lil Wayne’s choice.
____________________

Love or hate…you gotta feel some kinda way about a superstar. Defining
personalities is what takes their talent to another level . (Or
sometimes this is their only level when talent is lacking (Paris Hilton
if you will)). But then you have those next level superstars, ROCSTARS
if you will, who really don’t care what you think about them, as long
as you’re thinking something. That, ladies and gentleman, is a Lil
Wayne. Peep game…

*Getting hella tats all over your body is nothing big nowadays. Getting
“Fear” on one eyelid, “God” on the other, “I Am Music” on your forehead
and then some vein looking thing-thing coming down from your hairline
is saying, “I really don’t give a F***”.

*Crafting out your own lane to a chart topping, career climactic album
which many consider a masterpiece through two atypical singles for a
rapper (one was pretty much singing and the other one had a monotonous
loop, sparse structure, and practically no hook) is unique. Planning to
follow that up w/ a rock album and a lead single about a girl’s
underdrawers is different and not trippin on your core base of cats
with paint jobs on their car more expensive then the vehicle and 12
year old chitlins who only have the album and can recite every word b/c
their parent’s copped it for them as a substitute for raising them.
(Oh…and me.)

Both of those is what it be, and in a really not really way, I can
respect that. An artist who is not scared to be an artist is
commendable. But come on now…there’s gotta be a point where you look at
yourself and be like, “I was trippin on that one” and/or even the “Yes
Men” shoulda taken a stand there. Unfortunately, Wayne has seen that
point, pissed on it, and Usain Bolted down the Ave not even looking
back to laugh with his signature cackle.

Exhibit A: Lil Wayne Interview

Gangstas don’t ask questions? Fa real, my nigga? They just don’t ask
any questions??? Answers just cruise down the block? So that’s how Al
Kapone and O-Dog did it? Man, I knew there was some secret.

Exhibit B: ”Around the Way Girl”

LL Cool J, Behringer, Autotune, and Momma Morrow are mad at this one.
This fa real sounds like how I used to do when playing around w/ my sis
making songs when we were 7. And even back then we knew it was wrong.
(Ok, real talk, she did. I thought I was pretty cold.)

Since rappers never really retire, the choice is this…dude can either
pull out of this “zone” he’s in and continue to build upon a legacy OR
he can autotunerockNrollasuck his way through the remainder of his
musical ventures dropping a rare tainted gem every now again.
Either/or…there’s really not too many other choices, but dude’s gotta
stop this. (I mean his daddy named Baby aint even cosigning no more…)

______

What other entertainers/superstars do ya'll know took that dare,
slumped, but made it back? Who's still in that "if I could just get
T-Payne to sing on my track, I'd be alright phase"?

I was planning to whip up a fun, cool-like lil ditty w/ asubplot to also promote for a show we have coming up, but sometimes plans aremeant to change.  After being severelydisgusted and disturbed by the Oscar Grant murder, video, and lack of arrestingof the cop; followed by increased reading on other suspect stories such as “Robbie”Tolan and Adolf Grimes III, I wanted to write something.  Since there are hella formal and informalarticles on the previously stated incidents (Google at will), Ijust decided to write on the last incident I was “privy” to that made merevisit my “Mr. Officer” sentiments.  It’sdefinitely nothing of a compare/contrast to the other stories I mentioned asthey were of far greater consequence, but just wanted to ramble for a second orthree…
______________________ 

It’s about 1p and I’m sitting under a pavilion on Clinton Ave.(downtown LR Riverfront) waiting for a cat who was running behindschedule.  Since I’m all about birdkillin’, I decide to organize a few things in the Treo while enjoying thepleasant weather and inhaling the teasing smells of foods that are out of my under$4 lunch budget.  (I was hoping the cat Iwas meeting w/ was treating.)  I guessthe scene was lacking action, b/c I suddenly hear a few “F You’s” shoutedbehind me.  I turn around quickly to (#1)insure that I’m not the recipient of the language and (#2) make sure that if Iam recipient and somebody’s rushing me from behind that I heed their warningand get prepped to try and knock a nyucca (or other) out before they get up onme.  Luckily it was option (#3) and I seea smallish white dude who’s been dipping in the “happy juice” kinda heavytalking to some other Caucasionoid.  Thena third white dude pushes “the sipper” out the door when “Officer All Calves”of the esteemed bike patrol rolls up and strongly commands my man to get to theground.  Unfortunately, “the sipper”translates that to mean let me put my hands up and say, “I’m sorry”.  Whether he figured his melanin deficiency wasa shield, he’s never seen cop videos, or there was dumb juice in his liquor, hemade a bad call.  Quite perturbed, “Reno911” then throws/stomps dude to the ground, cuffs his hands behind his back,and pulls him up by the cuffs causing his arms to contort in such a positionthat had to hurt unless “sipper” was a Deceptacon or a Cirque De Soleil extra. 

Immediately after this goes down, an elderly white man thenrolls up on me and says, “Well that certainly seemed excessive, don’t youthink?” in such a manner like he’s never seen anything of the like and I shouldbe shocked as well.  I looked at him, lightlychuckled, allowed my Spidey senses to go back down, and went back to my Treo.
.________________________

Now I haven’t gotten the exact data, but I’ll go out on alimb and say that bout 82.4% of young Black American males have a bitter tastein our mouths when the subject, likeness, and/word of police pops up.  I have very few Black male friends who haven’thad a questionable-to-outright foul encounter w/ an “officer of the law”.  Does this justify the antagonistic feelingsthat we tend to gain towards all police when more than likely much of what isdone by them is as close to proper as possible? I don’t know, but mom dukes taught me two things as a child:  1) You’re identified by the company you keep& 2) It takes forever to build a good rep, but only a second to destroy it.  Plus when history tells you time and timeagain, you’re actually a target or suspect first and not the citizen they’resworn to protect, you start to get that “I aint trippin if your car flips”feeling.  (Or for my spiritual folks,read as the “I’ll pray for you and your troubled soul” feeling.)

I know me and my brethren frequently do some foul things andI’m far from the universal chant of “F*#$ the Police”.  Plus, I know some pretty cool-like officers (esp.this one pretty fine-like womens in the Bluff) and I got some pretty dope copmovies on my Netflix queue, but still, I can’t spit that sour taste out.  Nor do I think I should.  I know, experienced, and have seen too much.  Fear, hate, ignorance, and/or poor trainingcan be a dangerous/corruptive thing when power’s involved.  But when you try to slap a band aid on theblatantly open wound that is our society, sometimes infection occurs.  Word to The Wire.

Ya’ll got any condemnation worthy cop stories?  (I’ll accept praise ones as well.)

Oh yeah, come to the show on the 24^th.

This one here is in the spirit of the new year approaching and the corresponding resolutions that everybody throws out to the folks before realizing that

1) Going to the gym just isn't that fun
2) You like fast food b/c it's fast (and food)
3) You would leave him/her (OR multiple hims/hers) alone but something just feels good about 'em OR
4) You just aint gonna kick the habit or vice.  You made a resolution just because.

I'ma hit ya'll w/ some names I used to be called back in the day:

Ugly or funny looking b/c of big ears, feet, nose, lips, and any other body part that was deemed uncool to be so sizeable.
*On some real talk, my ears actually did hit a slight wiggle in the wind when I used to sit by an open window on the bus.  I couldn't be mad at folks for pointing that one out.  (Dumbo was a little extreme and too easy a joke though.)
*I coulda inserted another body part here to be clever and boost my machismo, but that would be childish and unfortunately untrue.  I've long said that "Mr. Disappointment" would be my stripper name.

Nerd, lame, geek, and other four letter words
*Whereas my body part descriptions were kinda true and I am a proud nerd, these names came mostly from folks who didn't really know me.  After awhile, they came from nobody b/c although I wasn't a fighter, I had my Jone Game Proper.  We could also pop of the physical if need be unless you were a known shooter.  Then I got my Humble Game Proper and befriended you to get keep my Life Game Proper.  It was the Bluff.

Pimp, Da Man, Or to parents, Mr. "The Only Reason Your Daughter Hit Puberty Was To Give Me Some Lovin'"
*Ok, I never received these names.  Ever.  But '09 maybe…

Now on to my point.

Truthfully, I'm all for setting goals for whatever it may be that may make you a better whatever you are as long as they're realistic and can be kept (ie Oprah knows that she aint gonna eat no Akia berries for that long unless it's with a side of 7-course meal).  So if a new year sparks the interest to do so, I'm on the Heidi-ho train.  I just peep how we always try to run from what we were labeled as yesteryear or attempt to hold on to "the cool" that people bestowed upon us instead of defining what that "cool" is for ourselves.  Basically we stay stuck on definitions of success, beauty, and well-being from folks who do little to nothing for us instead of realizing what it is for ourselves.  Yeah, there should be some standards and limitations, but ladies if your triceps jiggle a lil bit, be EZ.  Anyway, if that's how you get down, more power to you.  I just pray that it doesn't become problematic for you after awhile.

Now in the words of a rapper who you know got joked on as a child (I'm not hating, even he admitted it), here's a simple genius PSA from Jay-Z:

Check out my swag yo, I walk like a ball player
No matter where you go, you are what you are player
And you can try to change but that's just the top layer
Man, you was who you was 'fore you got here
Only God can judge me, so I'm gone
Either love me, or leave me alone

 Anyway, ya'll know I stay rambling, but I'd love to hear what folks labeled you as back in the day.

I guess 09 is what it is.

*I mean on the real, ya'll know that like 60-75% of your high school classmates have fallen off since school.  Ole boy/girl that you used to jock back in the day, just didn't quite look the same at the reunion.    (I'm proud to claim I'm one of the few whose kinda "fallen on" since high school, but as you can tell by the picture and names, I didn't have to many other places to go.  Gravity didn't exist.) 

**I've even see people go as far as the whole re-creation process in college, but please believe the truth caught up w/ them.  It may have taken to like sophomore or junior year, but the real was seen eventually.
(Note: College re-creation works better when it's an out of town school.  Meaning, if you grew up on 125^th, don't attempt to do so at Columbia.)

***Anybody w/ jokes saying this sounds great coming from a guy who became a "swagger rapper" at age 21 w/ a weird pseudonym when he knows he was lame….uhhhhh…no comment.
(Just trippin.  Your folks was never lame.  I always had a symbiotic nerd/beast relationship.  But after I turned the same age as my savings account amount 2 wks ago, I'm praying that the nerd part takes over fully.  And I'm not a "swagger rapper".)

OK, I lied about what today was sposed to be.  I’mnot gonna even share what it was, but I’ma roll w/ one of the few songs/videosthat made me wanna switch my wardrobe. (This one is still way behind the fashion game inspiration of Forever My Lady though.  (If I didn’t ask my mom for them boots, Sox cap, and matching short set. Mane…))  Anyway, I digress…

The More Memorable the SongExperience, The Higher We Hold It In Esteem....

In my 90’s years, on the outside looking in, the Bluff was knows for Crips, killers, and knuckle heads.  From the inside looking around there were a whole bunch of folks in blue by default, like 5-7 real killers, come cats w/ guns and no bullets (except when they went to PJs), a grip of actual folks who would bust your head, but even more cats who saw Menace II Society and became bad impressions of Ole Dog.  That’s the PB I’m familiar w/.

Now in my mind, I’ve always been savage.  A killa even.  Merck a nigga like get at me, for real though…  However, glasses covering ¾ of my skull, a crooked flattop, and a Mogadishu build never really set me off like I wanted it too.  Then Ice Cube came around w/ this ditty and showed me the way.  Besides the piece he picked up in the morning, the pager, the drop top ride, the lovin from the dope light skinned curly haired mami named Kim that he woke by pushing her in her head at 1a (classic), the horrible hook shot in the worst basketball scene ever, the locs, Fat Burger, and his permanent Mount Rushmore face setting, ole boy was just a regular dude from round the way surviving.  Just like me.

You see, I was familiar w/ the Raiders jerry cube from NWA days, but too me he became “realer”, “harder”, and more “assessable” through this one right here.  The overall vibe and simple, yet realistic story on this one fully absorbed me.  I practiced my fist in the black gloved palm for days.  Good look, Cube.  The Lakers STILL beat the Supersonics...

But wait…

When all my G-posing died down, I relistened to the song, and I’ll be damned if Cube wasn’t dropping some subtle knowledge on them fools.  Besides the Kim beatdown and the almost Boca breakfast, he had the most extra-regular day.  Just making it through another 24 as a black man neither having to use violence or having violence thrusted upon him in America made it a good one.  Sometimes the special days are when nothing “special” at all happens.  “Gotta thank God”.
(Too bad in the next video he had to get the “phone check homey”.  (Word to Das Efx two days in a row.))

On the low, I think I always wanted to holla at that girl who sang “coowaa” through the whole song.  I still believe she’s gotta be fine.   Also, don’t sleep on THE REMIX which was extra cold too.

*Still the best fighter I’ve ever seen was this girl from back in the day w/ a drip-drip whose name I’m still scared to speak on out loud b/c she might FaceBook a brotha.  After a little training, I’m sure I could get her now on the mano-y-femano tip, but that’s still not a good look.  Feel me?

The Finale Tomorrow:  Quite possibly one of the coldest love songs of all time (and not just rap either).  LL maybe???

 Exhibit C:  Jump / Kriss Kross

I'ma keep this one short and sweet.

I swear it was on a Friday afternoon in the 7^th grade when I went home from *Southeast after a long week of being the derelict w/ good grades.  All was normal.  The sun was shining, me and the bruhs were joning, and girls showed me no love (they must notta read my BBD entry yesterday).  Skip through the weekend…

I swear it was on Monday morning and 78.4% of the students came back to school violating dress code w/ their pants and saying "words" like wiggidy-wiggidy-wiggidy wack.  (Das Efx got did on that one.) 

So to all those who hear this song nowadays and act like it meant nothing to them, you need more people.  Act like you didn't have debates about who was cooler/better rapper:  the dark one or the light one.  (Does anybody know who was the "Mac Daddy" vs. "Daddy Mac"?)

Jermaine Dupri=1
Kris & Kross's rap future = 0
"Don't try to compare us to another bad little fad…" – Ummmm…sorry, but yes we will.  But hey, it had to be sweet while it lasted.  (If only I could be a fad…lo siento.)

HONORABLE MENTIONS
Two other 90's ditties used to have folks jumping w/ reckless abandonment.

The 1^st
Jump Around / House of Pain
I think I used to wanna be Irish after this one.  This should be the Celtics theme music.

The 2^nd
Hay / Crucial Conflict
Try and act like ya'll didn't step your overall game up and nod your head in a fluid, yet disjointed fashion like my folks at about 35s in the video.  Didn't think you could.  (This song and video is also why I don't accept country jokes from people from Chicago.)

Tomorrow:  One line from this track still sparks debates.
 

Speaking of my old stomping grounds of Southeast, I think schools stop caring when they just give a directional name (which is still better than NY's system).  However, in giving props to schools w/ directional names, I had to pull this clip up for the folks.  RIGHT CHEA!!!  I swear this used to happen at Pine Bluff High School as well.  I was the cat in the middle w/ the dope S-Keezy.

OK…I reread one of my last statements from yesterday and I would like to retract it.  Today's entry is not one of the greatest rap verses ever to me, but I may hold it as one as my most influential.  Now that's actually sad b/c it influenced me into believing a lie, but So be it.  Regardless, in fewer than 8 bars Biv changed my life up.  So here's:

Exhibit B:  Do Me / BBD (Biv's verse)

Every child not matter how sophisticated, elegant, or cool they turn out goes through some phase where they're not deemed the cutest.  Let's call it the "ugly phase" (UP) if you will.  Unfortunately, my UP seemed to pop off a lil earlier and longer than most of my fellow classmates and the occasional bold ones didn't mind sharing this w/ me.  My childhood "swag" had not yet been established.

So what caused this young boy of about 11/12 to look into the eyes of those evil, yet on-point chitlins who scoffed at me and then laugh like "pishaw" in their then young, naïve, butter cookie eating faces?  I'm so glad you asked.  It was none other than the verse dropped by Biv on this track "Do Me".  Who had a Swatch watch?  Me.  Who knew all the words to this revolutionary verse first?  Me again.  Who had been in a Jacuzzi w/ non-family member womens before (although they weren't there for me)?  You're hot damn right…that was me too.  The SEXY was born.  Holla atta negra when you see 'em in the streets. 

Now for all those in the know, please sing along:
The time was 6'oclock on the Swatch watch
No time to chill, gotta date…can't be late…HEY!!!
The girl was gonna do me
Mooove…to the Jacuzzi
Ooooh that booty
Smack it up/flip it/Rub it down…Oh Nooooo…

CLICK HERE AGAIN FOR THAT VIDEO!!!

*Unfortunately they only had a video for the remix, but please believe there are more than enough humorous parts that we used to think were cool back in the day.  But that, right there…is more than another blog.  (Props to the lil mamma in the ole school wife beater (tank top) trynna her best to fill that thang out.)

**No disrespect to Ricky who had a dope verse as well.  "The J, the I, the M, the M, they Y ya'll.  Who needs a body bag.  But upon listening to again, did he say he was creeping w/ an adolescent.  If so Ricky, not only a body bag you need, but also Kells' lawyer.

Coming at you tomorrow is the song that I swear changed people's fashion sense in like 3 days…