Brutal Police

Brutal Police
A breed of their own.
Many of us know, that these kind of people are violent by nature. Knowing that, and seeing many of the brutal attacks made on the civilian population, a semi-wise person would not provoke the bruticians, (my own word – means people who live and study brutality), by reacting with these pure emotional reactions. Some who know me don’t know that, I’ve been beat down by these cowards who were sworn to protect the public, yet after all these years I’ve had to reflect, I do NOT condemn every individual who should be committed to serving the public trust. It’s because of this reason, I comply with lawful orders given by those who are placed in that position. Still, I will admit, I will NEVER permit another individual in that position to attack me again. I will react with full tenacity and brutality using extreme measures to save my life. (or even yours for that matter). It’s this reason I tend to comply fully with the law to my best ability. I will not hold court in the street like too many of these victims have done. Many people believe America is not safe because of these incidents, but it’s all I know. It’s home. I would be a stranger anywhere else. ‪#‎SadButTrue‬‪#‎ILoveAmerica‬

Women of Color


Attention booty-whipped men:
A woman clinging to you and saying you need to
communicate and be around more isnt proof that
she got your back: It’s a trap. A woman wanting
to sex you whenever you want for the first few
days, weeks, or months you are together isn’t proof
she’s down for you. It’s proof that she knows
how to control you when she decides to withhold
sex from you. She probably learned it from her mother.
Take away her power by walking away, a little
b$tch will start complaining. Find a new women,
a vindictive b$tch wants to put you in prison.
Stop falling for the dumb sh?t. When she pokes her
big fatazz out for a facebook profile pic, to get
those likes and comments, that doesn’t make her
beautiful. I need something more real than a tight
skirt and a cute face. So many of us brothers dont
know what it’s like to have a real woman in our life.
We know nagging, nitpicking, henpecking, and threats of
being put in jail. You can put half your life and energy
in a relationship and when it’s over you realize you
wasted your all that time on the wrong woman.
Stop falling in love with what you see. Love is NOT a
big fatazz carrying a pretty face. Love is her, being
truthful from the start and accepting you for who you are/
Not her trying to change you and re-raise you like she’s
your mother. Love is two people working together,
from the same page, accepting each other for who they are,
not what they can get. Gentlemen, we can always do better.


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I Am A Hip-hopper For Life

// // Rap music today, I think I can safely write, has evolved insomuch of a way that the pioneers did not anticipate. The evolution the artform has grown into, was largely due to the fact that many of raps pioneers thought of themselves and their careers' as legendary. True. legendary status falls, for the most part, to the pioneers because they were the first. The leaders. These innovators set the first bar for comparison. All those who followed, including myself, have honed into our own styles and techniques by  witnessing the trailblazing actions of those rap music scouts. Many unknown hip-hoppers were very talented in the art of rap, but due to (and I write this very thoughtfully) the self centered nature and the greed, of many of the people with the influence to help the unknowns gain a platform to promote their talent, these individuals and groups never got a real opportunity to come out.

I give alot of credit to the west coast music industry because it seemed that they would allow anyone an opportunity to have some say in the field of rap. I was coming up in queens, New york where musicians were not short in supply. Personally, I have collaborated with many unknowns on alot of different songs. We even sold some of our music on  the streets. I have met so many well known rap artists on the streets of Queens, New york. Circumstance also played a role in our hip-hop standstills. My brother and I worked at a car wash and we met K-solo at the height of his career in the early 90’s.  We knew a mutual friend from when K-solo was in the golden gloves and mentioned that to him at our meeting. The names we threw at solo seemed to be right because he gave us his number and seemed to be interested in knowing us. Yet wouldn’t you know it, before we had a chance get together, K-solo was arrested and sent to prison for some time. So that opportunity never happened, sadly.

I don’t want to mention too many names as to speak ill words about them. Just suffice it to know that some artists would take or even buy our unknown music and go create themselves through our vibe. This was a trend that made us leary on giving away our music freely. This action may have been our greatest failure. I have learned through time that if you want to keep it, you MUST give it away. So I think most of the unknowns I have worked with would agree with me.

Combined with these types of actions and the closed door antics of the east coast rap-moguls, rap as it began was transformed into what it is today. Opinions vary on whether the transformation of rap was good or not so good. In my most humblest opinion, I think if more of the unknowns had a real shot the artform would be more diversified. As it stands today, gangsterism is the primary mode of communication. My fears over this is that the younger audiences will not vie to overcome this onesided way of perceiving what rap music can do for ones lifestyle. Early variations of rap music had the capabilities of promoting self help. One was able to uplift their way of looking at themselves, even with no money. Now, we judge ourselves by what car we drive, how many girls we have, how much money we can splurge.

I like to think that this will be a short lived trend, and that we’ll look back on it and find lessons in it that will help us make music that is good for the soul and the mind, not just our pockets. Which would be alot better for the culture of hip-hop in the long story. At that, I am a hip-hopper for life. thanks for reading this.  #spreadtheword.

G.T.A. (the fiery debris) chapter one

Chapter 1 – the fiery debris

Welcome to Los Santos. This place is part tourist town, and part wild west town.A state where people from
all over the world come to… (for lack of a better term), release. Some visitors are crazy with
very strange customs and even crazier names like, poplockfight, commanderkilla, bigmanchillin, or experttheif.
I’ve run across a few of these charactors on several occasions.
They appear to be unreal, unfeeling, and irrational. I mean one minute they are walking and
smiling, you know, normal. When all at once, suddenly, from out of nowhere they change in the
blink of an eye. They would suddenly be brandishing an ak47 or even rocket launchers. Then they start
killing and robbing. I was fearful of these people at first, but, I became fed up by their unflailing antics
and now I am the one they better fear.
I now react and respond.
I remember walking down the street with a friend of mine. As a matter of fact, I remember because
we watched the game at the club that night. We were walking, and all of a sudden a military tank
came slamming around the corner, being driven by one of them and firing it’s cannon irratically.
I yelled to my boy, “get down”, while I ducked behind a parked car.
When I looked over to my friend, I saw him lying face-up on the ground. He got hit and
and was dead. Many police cars were scattered behind the tank, following it. There were many destroyed
vehicles and buildings. It seemed like a warzone, bullets were flying everywhere. I could not stay there,
the tank was getting too close, and closer. my boy was laying over there. I decided to run.
As I ran, it felt like the guns from that tank were aiming down on me. Another destructive bang from
the tank blasts. It was far behind me, It was shooting at the cops. I ran around the corner, spotted
a parked car. ran over to it, smashed the drivers side window. No alarm. I reached in pulled the
doorhandle, opened the door and ducked inside. I didn’t know how to hotwire a car, so driving that vehicle
was not an option for me then.
At that moment, I had an epiphany. These strange people, ALL, seem to know how to start cars with no keys…
hmmmm, I had to learn how to do that. Just then, I saw the tank passing as I looked into the rearview mirror,
many police vehicles are still in high pursuit.
“I know I cant take too much more of this”, so I opened the door, jumped out, and ran.

I panted, as I ran along the sidewalk. Still watching over
my shoulder and ducking low, I noticed, I was out of place by running. The people on THAT block
seem to be going about their normal business. In fact, I could only faintly hear the destruction and
police sirens going on a few blocks away. Maybe fear and self preservation is the reason, but I still ran further.
Then I thought, and at THAT realization, I slowed my pace to an easy walk.
I’m glad I chose to wear that black jogging suit that day. It fit great, and I didn’t stand out from
everyone else. The street I was walking on was not very crowded, but there were people strolling along.
It was dusk, and the sun was a sweet golden glow over Los Santos. The block, I thought I was there before,
but all these houses looked similiar.
All that walking, I was tired.
Suddenly, a two door, black jeep wrangler with no top, blaring some loud rap music, screeched to a stop
right in front of me. “whatup fool?!” I heard through the music. I looked into the window and saw a
funny looking dude with a big nose wearing a hat tilted to the side with a nose ring.
“Jarrell!”, I said. I knew this clown from the swap meet, he was the local dj. “Where you going, dawg?
he hollered, instead of turning the volume down. “It’s lonely out there homey.”
“I don’t know, just walking and thinking”, was my quick response. Jarrell popped the passenger side
door open and said, “get in homey, I want to show you something”. I looked up the street, then glanced back
behind me then decided to jump into the jeep.
We rode a long way, he took me way out to the honky-town of Sandy Shores. Sandy Shores is the place
that’s known for the most powerful drug cartels. A way out drug manufacturing desert town. THEY,
the irrational visitors, don’t go out there much. When they do, it is NOT the place to be.
“Where are we going, Jarrell?” I asked, “because I’m gettin’ hungry.”
Jarrell was focused on what he saw through the windshield. His neck stretched forward and his eyes squinted.
He kind of reminded me of mr. Magoo,, the blind guy from those cartoons a long time ago.
I turned and in the distance, I looked…. it was…. I saw a man …holding a rocket launcher!
He didn’t see us at that point. It was one of THEM. “Jarrell, turn the car around! I yelled at him.
Jarrell looked at me and said, “hell nah!” Jarrell looked crazy to me. “He bluffin’,” he blurted.
“He don’t see us yet,” I replied.
“Our team advantage” he stated as he mashed the gas pedal and aimed the jeep for the figure holding
and firing the military styled rocket launcher.
As Jarrell started to accellerate, I reached for the doorlatch. I glanced ahead for a possible time to
leap out of the jeep….pushed the door open….and leapt. I smashed into the ground and rolled uncontrollably
into a row of mailboxes. As I settled, my elbow must’ve hit something because the pain was excruciating.
I looked up and saw Jarrell miss his target. At the same time I watched as the man holding the rocket launcher
raise then fire the weapon at the now fleeing jeep.
I laid there and watched, as the fiery projectile impacted a direct hit into the vehicle, and in seconds decimated
the black jeep into small pieces of flying debris. No doubt Jarrell was dead. At first I felt lucky. Then,
I became angry. Jarrel was gone. I lost alot of friends like that. I could be next at anytime.
It was at that moment, I decided to fight back.

G.T.A. (a serious story) prelude


“Please! I got a family.” The dark man pleaded quietly to the hooded figure in front of him,
holding a handgun. While holding his hands up above his head, the frightened man pleaded, “please,
my money is in my wallet, and you already have that. What do you want? Then, with one hot flash
from the pistol, and a loud clapping sound, the pleading man falls to the ground bleeding from a
gunshot wound to the head.
The hooded mugger steps out of the shadows revealing a dark skinned male.
As the victims body slams to the ground, the killer stands over him and whispers, “I want your car”.
Then he ran over to the victims car and drove off, not a police unit in sight. A clean get-away.
This is how it is in this part of Los Santos. If you live here, you know, any day could be
your last day.

// //