The Bitch Slapping of Blackfolk Using The Hand of Hip Hop.
by Chuck D
The news at the time was on blast about Busta Rhymes' bodyguard being
murdered while protecting his jewels for his star-studded video and
current hit song, Touch It. The 'stop-snitching stench' aroma, on a
viral pass-around, had everyone who saw 'what, who, when, and why' acting
suddenly like dumbass living mutes. @#%$ so bad that Busta flew 3000
miles to supposedly finish the video, via Jimmy Iodine's poisoned, deep
pockets. This was typical of the madness surfing atop the platform of
hip hop in 2006, enough to make one of the chief creators scream
stop.
Uptown in Harlem at the 126th Street's Black Slave Theater, a massive
town hall meeting was called by Afrika Bambaataa's ZULU NATION, about the
climate of the radiation of a radio, TV, movie nation; and how to stop
and fight the control-towers that be. The severe lack of balance
coming via the frequencies of the air, was akin to toxins pouring into the
9th ward after the levee expl- ur um, break.
Anything but a building full of bitter old hip hop headz, folks were
motivated to finally answer to the responsibility and accountability of
being grown. Those that claim they can't see the poison are duped by
the same reasons it's effective. Usually poison is hidden in something
deemed good for you. Poison has to be clearly identified with danger
signs, death, skulls, bones etc. to keep the not knowing, unreading,
and naive (usually children) from ingesting it. Speakers like Ernie
Pannicioli, Rosa Clemente, Shaka and others from the Zulus, Grandmixer
DXT and yours truly spoke to the room, of the clearly converted, about
really forcing the balance from rap/hip hop being the millennium
COINTELPRO. Yes, the new counterintelligence program steering the
masses toward the two booming industries of jail and death.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. But then again
the continued bitch slapping of blackfolk using the hand of hip hop
takes place as the masses, who are considered asses, are too blind,
deaf, and dumbed down to see or hear it. Or too numb to feel it.
Testing a sane one's sanity, I say. And when I know something I say
something. But do a 360 degree turn of your head....
In Selma, Alabama it was the 41st anniversary of the civil rights march
across the Edmund Pettis bridge while many of the acts involved had
'mafia', 'gangsta' and 'nigger' running rampant in their names,
lyrics, and imagery; as well as it being blastcasted across the Alabama urban
airwaves. Tables of CDs, DVDs and T-shirts of slain rapcats, seem to
parallel the ones of Garvey, King, X, and Harriet. Bootleg CDs from the
60's-70's sang about love and happiness as the 90's-06 CDs and DVDs
centralized on drug-pimp-thug lifestyle. Have we gone forward or back?
I wondered as I stared at the Edmund Pettus bridge hearing "It's Hard
Out Here For A Pimp" in the background.
Two weeks prior I approached BET's topdog Stephen Hill during the
Grammy rehearsal about the imbalance of their programming since Teen
Summit and Tavis Smiley. All he answered was he didn't want another
FRANK'S PLACE ...you know bad number ratings, only conscious folk
watching it, (i.e. too smart = no paper). Wondered what women thought
about pimpin not being easy in '06. Then again if the president of MTV, BET,
and Radio One are all black women, then why are the images of black
women at its lowest?? Yeah, don't let me tell yall, do some work and
google Debra, Christina, and Cathy....Death Any Child? Then again
the ultimate pimp flask got one from white America, on the heels of
Halle getting the bitch - ho treatment and Denzel doing Superthug.
Saw Kimora Lee Simmons has a book out called Fabulosity, caught it on
CNN as they search for more streetcred...cannot even take the news when
they feed the drug of America - celebrity to them asses.
I did a career day lecture booth at my youngest one's school as the
7th-8th graders asked who really won Flavor Of Love? Repeatedly
asked did I have any money or was I rich... Instead I pointed to my
head and said with my college degree in 1984 I'd always be rich (as in
enriched) and knowing it would pale in these 'white written for black
consumption hustle and flow and get rich and die tryin times'. Russell
and all the superstars on the radio-TV-movie stage increasingly find it
easier to avoid the masses and broadcast to them asses. Get that money
from those who barely have it, and stack and brag about them chips and
chicks in the back.
Dig this - it's really hard out there to defend against the wave of
ignorant acceptance. Forget about them town halls being called
ineffective. If anything they need to be held weekly, even daily in
fact. A reminder of waiting for something to acknowledge and reward
you, beyond recognizing self is like smiling at a bag of purchased
cotton you just picked on a field. I'm not a pessimist about hip hop, I
love the platform and its value to the world, history, etc. The
historical fact on the surface says Triple 6 Mafia from Memphis winning
the first Rap Academy Award for an original song is thirty-five years
after Sir Isaac Hayes won the first. Two different times in Memphis, mind you.
Dwelled on the negative as usual, you might say. But I know when my
head and heart feels bitch-slapped without having a chance to raise
up, breathe, swallow a positive thought and get my back straightened after manning
the burden. And so It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp... but damn in
anybody's right mind and soul why shouldn't it be?
Mrchuck@rapstation.com
by Chuck D
The news at the time was on blast about Busta Rhymes' bodyguard being
murdered while protecting his jewels for his star-studded video and
current hit song, Touch It. The 'stop-snitching stench' aroma, on a
viral pass-around, had everyone who saw 'what, who, when, and why' acting
suddenly like dumbass living mutes. @#%$ so bad that Busta flew 3000
miles to supposedly finish the video, via Jimmy Iodine's poisoned, deep
pockets. This was typical of the madness surfing atop the platform of
hip hop in 2006, enough to make one of the chief creators scream
stop.
Uptown in Harlem at the 126th Street's Black Slave Theater, a massive
town hall meeting was called by Afrika Bambaataa's ZULU NATION, about the
climate of the radiation of a radio, TV, movie nation; and how to stop
and fight the control-towers that be. The severe lack of balance
coming via the frequencies of the air, was akin to toxins pouring into the
9th ward after the levee expl- ur um, break.
Anything but a building full of bitter old hip hop headz, folks were
motivated to finally answer to the responsibility and accountability of
being grown. Those that claim they can't see the poison are duped by
the same reasons it's effective. Usually poison is hidden in something
deemed good for you. Poison has to be clearly identified with danger
signs, death, skulls, bones etc. to keep the not knowing, unreading,
and naive (usually children) from ingesting it. Speakers like Ernie
Pannicioli, Rosa Clemente, Shaka and others from the Zulus, Grandmixer
DXT and yours truly spoke to the room, of the clearly converted, about
really forcing the balance from rap/hip hop being the millennium
COINTELPRO. Yes, the new counterintelligence program steering the
masses toward the two booming industries of jail and death.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. But then again
the continued bitch slapping of blackfolk using the hand of hip hop
takes place as the masses, who are considered asses, are too blind,
deaf, and dumbed down to see or hear it. Or too numb to feel it.
Testing a sane one's sanity, I say. And when I know something I say
something. But do a 360 degree turn of your head....
In Selma, Alabama it was the 41st anniversary of the civil rights march
across the Edmund Pettis bridge while many of the acts involved had
'mafia', 'gangsta' and 'nigger' running rampant in their names,
lyrics, and imagery; as well as it being blastcasted across the Alabama urban
airwaves. Tables of CDs, DVDs and T-shirts of slain rapcats, seem to
parallel the ones of Garvey, King, X, and Harriet. Bootleg CDs from the
60's-70's sang about love and happiness as the 90's-06 CDs and DVDs
centralized on drug-pimp-thug lifestyle. Have we gone forward or back?
I wondered as I stared at the Edmund Pettus bridge hearing "It's Hard
Out Here For A Pimp" in the background.
Two weeks prior I approached BET's topdog Stephen Hill during the
Grammy rehearsal about the imbalance of their programming since Teen
Summit and Tavis Smiley. All he answered was he didn't want another
FRANK'S PLACE ...you know bad number ratings, only conscious folk
watching it, (i.e. too smart = no paper). Wondered what women thought
about pimpin not being easy in '06. Then again if the president of MTV, BET,
and Radio One are all black women, then why are the images of black
women at its lowest?? Yeah, don't let me tell yall, do some work and
google Debra, Christina, and Cathy....Death Any Child? Then again
the ultimate pimp flask got one from white America, on the heels of
Halle getting the bitch - ho treatment and Denzel doing Superthug.
Saw Kimora Lee Simmons has a book out called Fabulosity, caught it on
CNN as they search for more streetcred...cannot even take the news when
they feed the drug of America - celebrity to them asses.
I did a career day lecture booth at my youngest one's school as the
7th-8th graders asked who really won Flavor Of Love? Repeatedly
asked did I have any money or was I rich... Instead I pointed to my
head and said with my college degree in 1984 I'd always be rich (as in
enriched) and knowing it would pale in these 'white written for black
consumption hustle and flow and get rich and die tryin times'. Russell
and all the superstars on the radio-TV-movie stage increasingly find it
easier to avoid the masses and broadcast to them asses. Get that money
from those who barely have it, and stack and brag about them chips and
chicks in the back.
Dig this - it's really hard out there to defend against the wave of
ignorant acceptance. Forget about them town halls being called
ineffective. If anything they need to be held weekly, even daily in
fact. A reminder of waiting for something to acknowledge and reward
you, beyond recognizing self is like smiling at a bag of purchased
cotton you just picked on a field. I'm not a pessimist about hip hop, I
love the platform and its value to the world, history, etc. The
historical fact on the surface says Triple 6 Mafia from Memphis winning
the first Rap Academy Award for an original song is thirty-five years
after Sir Isaac Hayes won the first. Two different times in Memphis, mind you.
Dwelled on the negative as usual, you might say. But I know when my
head and heart feels bitch-slapped without having a chance to raise
up, breathe, swallow a positive thought and get my back straightened after manning
the burden. And so It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp... but damn in
anybody's right mind and soul why shouldn't it be?
Mrchuck@rapstation.com
