Hip-hop/Spirituality/Freethinking. Speaking for all underdogs!
By Khalil Amani
I was in New York City a few weeks ago having a coonerific vacation with the wifey. After doing the obligatory tour of Times Square, Empire State Building and seeing a Broadway play (Motown: The Musical), I wanted to go to Harlem to get my blackness and hip-hop on, so we took the D Train Uptown to Harlem. We did a little shopping and ate at Sylvia’s—a black soul food restaurant with “food so good you’ll wanna slap yo’ mama!” (fo’ real doe!) From there, I visited Black Star Music & Video Store. Straightway, I ran and copped a few Straight Stuntin Magazines and Originators magazines! Do you know how cool it is for an old-head from Denver to open up a magazine in Harlem and see a nigga’s work therein? And then to have a guy walk in the store and know who I am? WOW! (Dude said, “Yeah, I read your shit in da penn” and judging from his arms and chest, he ain’t neva lied! Prison swollen lak-a-mug!) Of course, I would have loved to take a tour of the Hot97 studio (the mecca of hip-hop radio), but Old Man Ebro doesn't know a nicca and DJ Kay Slay was (apparently) too busy. Oh well...
Silva's Soul Food Restaurant in Harlem.
I love Harlem! In another era (perhaps the Harlem Renaissance) I was a Harlemite, because I felt totally at home in all of the hustle-bustle of that city. Now let’s get to this hip-hop ish!
I don’t wanna step on Illseed’s toes, but I have some half-assed rumors subjects I’d like to deal with in this stale state of hip-hop. None of them are worthy of full-fledged blogs, but rather pesky little “what the fucks” that tickle my fancy like a wild gray hair growing out of my nose. I’m a sucker for coonery.
You're my dude and all (and yo! I’ve been hitting you up about a job and all over there at Thisis50.com forever! Bloggers gotta eat too.) I’m gonna speak to you out of love and respect ‘cause I ain’t ashamed to admit that you’d kick my old arse from here to Kingdom Come! I’m-a need you to stand down on the Ja Rule dissin’. Did you really go at him at Summer Jam? Are you trying to generate buzz for your upcoming “Animal Ambition” record? Bruh! We don’t wanna hear or see you dissing an old foe who hasn’t released a hit in like, forever! Hip-hop is not interested in that old beef (Now Rick Ross? That’s a beef you didn’t win. Go at him seriously—without the Pimpin’ Curly shtick.)
And can you explain the supposed beat-down you ordered of Slowbucks? For taking a picture with your kiddo? They’re saying you have no relationship with your son because of his mother. Can I give you a piece of advice (coming from a 54 year old man with four children from three different women)? No woman can keep you from your child! If you sincerely want a relationship with your son you won’t allow a piece of stank-box to interfere with that! You’re copping a plea sun! I know you’re Mr. Big Bad 50 Cent, but, in matters of the heart, such as this, you’ve gotta take the high road and make that shit happen and not merely wait on your son to reach that age of maturation and then try to repair a “shit-uation” that you had some complicity in destroying. I did it and I ain’t have no money! Surely you can do it. Go get your seed before she bitch-de-fies him against you!
You’re killing me young man! We get it. You’re street! You’re hood! You don’t play that shit! The 106 & Park embarrassment (I was thinking, “This Negro is so uncouth!”) was the first I’d seen you and now you shut down a concert over a damned $35 ball cap that some wet-drawhs fan snatched off your nappy head as a memento? (I could see it if it were your jewels, but a hat?) Did you consider how much people paid to see you? As R&B goes, the genre is dying and you’re putting the nail in its coffin with your hood antics! And furthermore, you’re no Usher or Chris Brown, who, at least can dance! I’m-a need you to stop feeling yourself so much or at least, get some artist training and if you’re worried about a fan snatching your cap off, go down to the Slauson Flea Market and cop you some of those five-for-twenty dollar joints.
So I finally became a self-absorbed nobody and joined Instagram. Yeah, it’s cool and all, but there’s a lot of egotistical, narcissistic, megalomaniac, look-at-me ish going on! I’m sure Gordon Parks is rolling over in his photographic grave. Newsflash! Some of y’all ain’t cute and some of y’all ain’t photographic! And who are these fucks that keep following me with their advertisement of how to flip $200 to $2000? Are people really falling for this scam? I don’t know what it is, but there’s no way in hell this can be done legally! And how do you get famous people to wanna follow a C.O.O.N. like me? And is it a violation of the “Guy Code” to ask another man to follow you? I’m an Instagram novice! Help me out! Follow me @khalil_amani. My pics are bomb!
Love and Hip-Hop
That’s my show! Don’t nobody better talk about Love & Hip-Hop! Yes! I read Nietzsche, Voltaire and dem, but as learned and philosophical as I am, I still like a little coonery with my intellectualism. I’m just trying to figure out why any famous rapper would want to be “in love” or in a relationship? Do you know how many poonannies, stank-boxes and va-jay-jays beez lookin’ to get ran through when a rapper’s on tour? You’re supposed to be (in the words of Charlamange Tha God) “shootin’ the club up” (ejaculating in the poontang). Tupac said it best; “I get around!” He understood that a relationship was foo-foo when there’s a smorgasbord of treats begging to be eaten.
Why would any rapper want the burden of keeping his hang-low in his pants—to forsake all other vaginas—for the sake of a relationship? I’d have a relationship all right! With 7 chicks openly! In a perfect hip-hop world Steebie J would be openly dating Joseline and Mimi! If Kirk had his way he’d be bangin’ his wife and that cutie-patootie from the bar! We all know Lil Scrappy gets wood at night thinking about Erica, while settling for Bambi and the other wannabe/soon-to-be jump-off and if Mama Dee needs a vine to swing from, holla atcha boy! I think I can convince my wife into a ménage a trio, 'cause Gawd knows, the way she beez fawning over her son's love-life, you'd think she's suffering from some warped new-jack ghetto Freudian Oedipus-Complex-Electra-Castration-Anxiety-Penis-Envy!
All these relationships are contrived! These rappers don’t wanna settle down! These chicks got them in a pussy headlock, so they’ve throw their hands in the air and said, “I give up, ok? You’re my woman!”
Love & Hip-Hop? Apparently we old-head fathers and uncles have dropped the player’s ball when niggas like Waka Flocka wanna play house. Smh.
Okay! You’ve rapped about the dope game, money and hoes long enough! When are we gonna finally get the dopest, realest album of your career—that album where you rap in detail about your stint as a correctional officer and the transition to being a minor league dope boy under Kenneth “Boobie” Williams? That would be dope, man! You could string that shit out like R. Kelly did “In the Closet!”
I'm starting to think I'm really getting old, 'cause right about now, I'm bored as fugg! The scene is stale! Gonna make me start writing about Country & Western!
Khalil Amani is a blogger for AllHipHop. He also writes for DJ Kay Slay’s Originators Magazine & Straight Stuntin Magazine. He is the author of six books, including the ground-breaking book, “Hip-Hop Homophobes…” iuniverse.com 07). Amani is gay hip-hop’s self-proclaimed straight advocate. Visit The Coonerific One athttp://www.khalilamani.ning.com Follow on Facebook/Twitter @khalilamani. Instagram @khalil_amani, Youtube @ yahweh 12 Khalilamani@yahoo.com