Goldi gold Interview with Viva Fidel on International Revolution Radio

HOPE THROUGH HIP HOP

M.O.B.B. (Mothers of Black and Brown Babies) has teamed up with the Atl. Funklordz to do a toy drive. The toys will be distributed at an event that the Funklordz have scheduled for Dec. 27th at the Relapse Theater ( more details forthcoming). In addition, the toy drive will be done in honor of our brother, friend and fellow artist Chris "Jax" Thurston. We would like to see as many members of the Atlanta (and beyond if possible) hip hop community donate childrens toys ( for all ages) as well as purchase and wear "Jax Forever King" t-shirts to the event. If you would like to volunteer to help distribute the toys, let us know. You can purchase your "Jax Forever King" shirts directly from the Binkis Records Myspace page: MYSPACE.COM/BINKIS. Toy donations can be dropped off at M.O.B.B. headquarters. Please email us at info@mobbb.org or quic@kulturez.com to schedule a drop-off appointment. We need responses AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, because December 27 is just around the corner. Please forward this email to anyone you know that would like to brighten the holiday season for a child in need.

On behalf of M.O.B.B., Lisa Watts-Thurston (Jax's wife) and the Atl. Funklordz,
We Thank you for your time and attention in this matter,
--

Quic Rojas
CEO-Kulturez Clothing Co.
Funk Lordz/Zulu Nation

done by Mad Clout last night on the side of the Apache Cafe

JAX LIVES

The Fugees - Rumble In The Jungle (feat. Busta Rhymes, ATCQ

[Wyclef]
(Come on)
Root to the fruit
More bass than Bootsy Collins
You verses me
Thats like Ali verses Foreman (a-ha)
God's act, stand back and watch
Devil's time out
Can't be timed with no swatch watch
Who I am, the black Abraham
Zunga zunga zang, yellow man, Vietnam
Add an extra bar as I spar with literature
Taking kingdoms from tsars
Winning more wars than the Moors

[Forte]
Hey, what's the deal?
I seen the Devil spar with Allah
Mathematics was the key to set my whole race free
You might debate we, a refugee
No harm hurt me
Dying, thirsty from the struggle
To my own hustle bubble
On the low, woe is me
To show the Free Bob right
The righteous Asiatic thinker
While Satan rob light
Civilised like the Molly
Burgundy, wildy rocking
Seen the fifth when Ali clocked him
John Forte will keep you locked in


[Q-Tip]
People all around
You got to recognise and witness
The Mister who swift enough to knock you out with Mic fitness
Hands blistered from holding the mics tight
Some say it's fright night
Well throw the R after the F 'Cause I'm gonna take away your breath
The bell rings and now it's just a daily operation
Yo, you saw my lubrication
You can see this occupation (The winner)
Eh, you know we're from Q-Borough
L-Booie and Clef the trainers, Prazwell promote the throw

[Lauryn Hill]
We used to bite bullets with the pig-skin casing
Now we perfect slang like a gang of street masons (uh)
Scribe check make connects
True pyramid architects (yeah)
Replace the last name with the X (X)
The man's got a God complex
But take the text and change the picture
Watch Muhammad play the messenger like Holy Muslim scriptures
Take orders from only God
Only war when it's Jihad
See Ali appears in Zaire to reconnect 400 years
But we the people dark but equal give love to such things
To the man who made the fam' remember when we were kings

Blocks on fire (Block's on fire tonight)
Fiends getting higher (uh-huh)
Robbing blue collar
(Hey yo we rob them blue collars)
Killing for a dollar (Stick 'em up)
Youths get tired (Ali ah yeah)
We're dealing with them liars (Ali ah yeah)
(We're dealing with too many liars)
From Brooklyn to Zaire (uh-huh ah yeah)
We need a ghetto Messiah (ah yeah come on)

Send me an angel in the morning, baby
Send me an angel in the morning, darling
Send me Muhammad in the morning, baby
Send me an angel in the morning, darling

[Phife]
Once the pen hits the pad it's danger
To this I be no stranger
Step inside the ring and I'll derange you (Come on)
I'm hearing no comments
Everyone looks dispondent
Dejected, rejected similiar to Liston
Catching lists
Beat it, sonny
My man is still the greatest in this
To hell with Frazier yappin' about that negative shit
Now listen, you can try and escape if you want to
But ask yourself, who the hell you gonna run to
Like Sade Abu you got a punch that I can sleep to
Fugees, Tribe, Busta Rhymes forever coming through

[Pras]
We sing Amazing Grace over two dollar plate
One roll snake eyes like Jake The Snake
Many lies put up for stakes
Wash our sins at the Great Lakes
You and I cannot see eye to eye
So therefore we cannot relate
I'm here when I make myself crystal clear
You fled to Cape Fear when I laced you in Zaire
Tussle with a lasso in the Royal Rumble
Seperate boys from men in the concrete jungle

[Busta Rhymes]
I remember when Cassius Clay flipped the script
Taking trips to Zimbabwe
Africans started calling the God Ali Bumbaye (so bwoy)
It be the God stricken, God nutrition, lightly stricken (ha)
Blow that make you feel like you was poison bitten
Ha yo I'm 'bout to blister you and your sister
Predicting every ass whipping before my fights my nigga
This be your last warning once you walk past the doorman
Ali and Foreman gonna lock ass until the morning
Marvellous finances provided by Joseph Mobutu
Special guests of honour like the Archbishop Desmond Tutu
We watched the Rumble In The Jungle
To see who be the targeted uncle to be the first to fall and fumble
Nuff blows they gettong thrown, like solid milestones
Internally shaking up niggas, imbalance your chromosones
With the force of a thousnad warriors
When I bust your ass identify me as the lord victorious

Blocks on fire (You're a star)
(Blocks on fire)
Fiends getting higher (You're a star)
Robbing blue collar (You're a star)
(Yeah rob them blue collars)
Killing for a dollar (You're a star)
Youths get tired (You're a star)
(Youths getting tired)
We're dealing with them liars (You're a star)
(We're dealing with too many liars)
From Brooklyn to Zaire (You're a star)
We need a ghetto Messiah

BPRICE

'What Up, My Obama?'

Jim Jones is a Harlem rapper with lots of stubble and sleepy eyes. While he's not a gangster rapper, he's far from what you'd call a "conscious" rapper. In other words, he's not the type of person you'd expect to see embedding himself in a sweeping societal change, but sometimes flowers grow up through the concrete. Jimmy recently co-wrote and starred in an off-off-off-Broadway play called Hip-Hop Monologues: Inside the Life and Mind of Jim Jones, in which he's almost killed during an impromptu dice game. (I hate it when that happens.)
I recently interviewed Jimmy about the play while sitting on the lip of the stage, and toward the end of our talk, I asked him how he felt about Obama's victory. Since Election Day, every conversation I have eventually turns to Barack Obama and our emotional reactions to this American epiphany. Jim confessed that the election inspired him to drop the word "nigga" from his vocabulary—where it was a nearly ubiquitous presence—and replace it with "Obama." He gave me a few examples: "What up, my Obama?" "Yo, did you see them Obamas last night?" "Now that's a real Obama."
"Now that's a real Obama."
I was blown away. Black men have used nigga for more than three decades as a way of expressing a certain gallows humor. It is a way of saying, "Hey, if America thinks we're the national boogie monsters, then fine, we are. Boo!" It stems from a peculiarly black sense of the macabre. But the election has done more than just usher in a black president. It's begun creating a new America where black people feel like the country perhaps doesn't hate us the way it once did, and black men no longer feel a need to identify ourselves as America's monsters.
If words have power, and the slang we use says something about the people we are, then Jimmy's linguistic U-turn indicates a very powerful shift: away from self-describing as niggas (rebellious, angry, ignorant, hunted), and toward self-describing as Obamas (cool, intelligent, humble, powerful). Away from a self-appellation that reminds us of how America has wronged us, and toward a self-appellation suggesting that we are all reflections of, and extensions of, a shining example of black excellence.

I've been watching CNBC news tough on the daily. Watching and learning what effects them dollars we got in our pocket. Man, the picture hasn't been pretty. Life hasn't been pretty also for heads struggling in the jungle. The banks got first tatse of that bailout money and people still wondering what's up with that. Now the auto heads trying to get a share of the cream while every state and company stand in line to get money for us, the people. Sounds crazy don't it. what do you think? Oh Yea peep this: