Hip-hop/Spirituality/Freethinking. Speaking for all underdogs!
When Khalil & Mysonne Had Beef!
By Khalil Amani
Oh boy! You’re probably reading the title and thinking, “Damn that Khalil beez err’where! This nigga knows Mysonne? This nigga was beefin’ with Mysonne?” Well damnit! It’s true! I was looking to beat Mysonne’s ass once upon a time! I was gonna give him a buck-fiddy and alla dat! I was gonna dog-walk his ass down the street! What had happened was….
Okay, okay! Khalil is fulla shit! I wasn’t gonna do shit to Mysonne, but we did once get into a war of words on Social Media that had my “trigger fingers turning into Twitter fingers.”—a “beef” that could’ve resulted in me getting my ass beat! This was way back in 2011.
I’ll tell you the story in a few.
Unlike Hassan “Aye Papi” Campbell—who’s on YouTube daily, begging for the attention of people like J. Prince and Mysonne—and getting nothing but crickets, Khalil Amani’s whet pen makes the most famous rappers sit up and take note! Just ask Kanye West! Just ask DJ Kay Slay! Just ask Mysonne! Unlike Hassan “Aye Papi” Campbell—who don’ created so many enemies—from a gang of YouTubers—to a gang of famous rappers—to the gang of Sex, Money, Murder—to Afrika Bambaataa’s Zulu Nation—to the Nation of Islam—so many enemies that he rarely ventures beyond a five mile radius from home, only frequenting Burger King and the neighborhood pub to get shit-faced drunk and then, back home. Think about it! Has Hassan ever posted a video in da club chillin’ with the wifey—or hanging out with the fellas, while eye-fucking chicks in a club? Nope! I mean, after all, much of his YouTube content is of a hip-hop nature, yet he never posts videos of himself in a club. Hmmm? But Khalil Amani? I’ve got club videos all up and down my YouTube channel! When my old-ass is up in the club with “my drank and my two-step”—young people look on in sheer amazement and actually root the old guy on, sometimes graduating into a full-on chant in unison—“Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!” I'm somebody's granddaddy, but the young'uns love me! You don't believe me? Check it out!
Young people are inspired and impressed by my seemingly “Benjamin Button-esque” lifestyle! Hassan would rag on me for not “acting my age,” as if I should be acting like his old-ass daddy and put on some Stacy Adams hard-bottom shoes and a fucking Puerto Rican zoot-suit and sip Tequila & Cerveza (Spanish beer). Certainly, at 59 years old—Khalil—being a hip-hop writer—still frequents (hip-hop) clubs, purely to keep his “whet” pen on point with the pulse of young people—you know—ingratiating himself in the culture—for the sake of his literary craft—keeping up with current trends in music, dance and fashion. Khalil is not just the old man in the club, but an elder statesman of hip-hop culture who’s up in that beeotch for the sake of his art! (Awww fuck it! Who am I trying to fool? When I’m in da club, I still love eye-fucking an occasional chick or two who’s young enough to be my granddaughter! I guess I’m just a dirty old man, but like I always say, “When my libido dies, just kill me!”)
My point is that I still go outside. I can still show my face in public, because I’m not disrespectful to the culture and people I represent—namely, hip-hop culture. Not so for Hassan Campbell, who has to walk around New York like a bobblehead doll, ever looking over his shoulder for one of his many enemies—and with the disrespect he’s shown towards J. Prince—and by further implication—the whole goddamned South—he would catch a major beat-down in Texas right about now!
As long as a disrespectful YouTuber or blogger stays in the house he can be disrespectful. This would be Hassan—a man who ain’t going nowhere near a hip-hop club!
Yes! Once upon a time, New York rapper Mysonne and I were engaged in a war of words. I was living in Miami and he was living in New York. What were the chances that we two would ever meet face to face? Probably slim and none. There we were in 2011 on Social Media—Twitter to be exact where we were going back and forth over rapper Lil B’s titled album, “I’m Gay”—and all of the homosexual allusions that hip-hop has embraced. As “Ya Gay Friend’s Favorite Straight Friend”—as the guy who has been pushing for the total liberation and inclusion of gay & lesbian voices in mainstream hip-hop—the guy who had gotten face-time with a powerful pro-gay article in DJ Kay Slay’s, Straight Stuntin Magazine—“Why Gay Hip-Hop/Rap?”—Khalil Amani was locked in a Twitter war of words with Mysonne over this straight vs. gay rap thingy. Did it get disrespectful? Not even a little bit! Our “beef” was merely and simply and disagreement betwixt gentlemen of varying perspectives.
Here are a sampling of my Twitter exchange with Mysonne in 2011.
After this lengthy Twitter exchange I wrote a blog entitled, "Rapper Mysonne: The Case of Misplaced Lyrical Aggression." Again, this was way back in April of 2011
Lo and behold—that very next year—the Spring of 2012 when DJ Kay Slay was in Miami during Memorial Day Weekend—we linked up in a Miami club’s V.I.P. section. There we were—sitting around listening to the sound of Miami rap and sipping on some foogayzi Negroic drink—Ciroc—or one of those fancy-smancy drinks that rappers drink in V.I.P.—and in walks New York rapper Mysonne! I saw him before he saw me and the first thing I thought about was our Twitter “beef”—and what kind of energy I had put out. As my heart raced a mile a minute, I searched my soul—and long-term memory and thought about the words I’d typed and replayed our Twitter “beef” over and over in my mind—to see if there was the slightest bit of disrespect dripping from my Twitter fingers. Had I tweeted something that made Mysonne say, “Okay old nigga! When I catch you slippin’, I’m gonna beat the breaks off you—you ol’ Twitter fingers-ass nigga!”
If I were a little drunk, I sobered up betimes—in a motherfucking hurry!
I know my limitations. I know I can’t fight worth a shit—especially at 50! I ain’t gonna front like some guys of the Hassanian ilk who say they ain’t afraid of no man. Fuck that! I was afraid of Mysonne! I was seriously debating whether or not I should give DJ Kay Slay a pound and dip out—get ghost—fly the coop—get in the wind—and break out!
Mysonne is no small dude. I’m 5’7” and he was damn near six feet—muscular as fuck—like he’d been doing jailhouse workouts all his life. I knew that he’d done a 10-year prison bid, so I figured that his fisticuffs game was probably on point. He came in the club with the perfect fighting accoutrement—a crisp white V-neck T-shirt, some jeans and a pair shit-kickers—Timberland boots—the kind of hood footwear made for stomping a nigga out like a ghetto Kung Fu master. When I saw Mysonne enter our V.I.P. section I damn near shit my drawhs! I went and stood behind a big nigga until I could gather my thoughts and get my bearings on the “shit-uation” at hand. I already told y’all that I’m a “bitch-ass neega.” Frfr!
After searching my soul and telling myself that I had not disrespected Mysonne on Twitter—there was nothing else to do, but walk up to him before he walks up to me and give him my best Will Smith, “Let’s get jiggy with it, welcome to Miami!” smile, greeting and handshake—and that’s what I did!
I walked up to Mysonne and—with a big-ass smile on my face shouted, “Yo! Mysonne!” He looked at me—and immediately knew who I was (I guess, from my Twitter profile picture) and said, “Yo! Khalil Amani!” We gave each other the obligatory black man handshake/embrace where he pulled me into his body—where I was able to feel his natural raw strength and rock-hard chest musckles—as I buried my face into his chest; for he had total control of my body—kinda like I was his bitch. Yeah, he did some subtle strength flexing on my ass—(or maybe I'm just that fucking weak?) After that, we smiled, laughed and I thanked him for indulging this no-named blogger in a friendly war of words. Mysonne was kind and friendly and told me that it was "all love." He gave me a free copy of his mixtape as well, where I must say, was a very good effort! It didn’t hurt that I was DJ Kay Slay’s V.I.P. guest either.
Fine-ass Urban Model Amazin' Aimee was in da buidling!
Can you just imagine the scene in that club had Khalil Amani been on some Hassanian disrespect with Mysonne? I can see it now—me getting molly-whopped, dog-walked, dragged, stomped out and “World-Starred!” Again. I would’ve never thought that after our Twitter back & forth I would actually run into Mysonne in a club! I learned a valuable lesson that night in Miami—that I should temper my words—stay respectful—and be mindful of the fact that I like to travel, party and hang out in V.I.P.’s with my hip-hop boss, DJ Kay Slay, who oftentimes has other famous invited guests/rappers at his functions. It’s not that I should write in a compromising and scary fashion, but rather think about how I treat the fragile egos of famous people. Never be on the offensive end of disrespect. This is the lesson that Hassan Campbell has yet to learn. He thinks that blasting people disrespectfully is the key to his YouTube/blogging future—and even though his YouTube numbers are in excess of six-figures—as sure as the sun rises & sets, he will one day have to answer for his disrespect towards these stars. He will be checked! Expect it like you expect Jesus! Matter of fact, put that on Jesus’s sandals! Somebody’s gonna pull Hassan’s hoe-card and plaster it all over Social Media—for our delight! Thus saith Negrodumas. Hassan cannot continue to disrespect people like J. Prince and think he won’t get touched. The only way he can continue being disrespectful to gangsters like Mysonne and J. Prince is to remain a hermit and a recluse in his crib. As for me? I wanna live life, free from looking over my shoulder!