Gangsta Rap is Black People’s and America’s Dirty Laundry.

Yesterday I was going at it over at Gotty’s site.

And. Someone called me a hypocrite. Nothing new.

As a card carrying, Clipse loving feminist, I have been called worse things.

The argument stemmed from the fact that someone cited Jason Witlock and his argument that Jesse and Al are too scared to go after companies that promote and benefit from Gangsta rap.
So I say go ahead and ban/regulate gangsta rap.


Once you ban gangsta rap.
What are you going to put back?

And let me ask you this, is the real issue the music or the lives of of the people that the music represents?

Because banning/regulating g-rap sounds like a cosmetic change to me.
My man Roland Martin at CNN hit the nail on the head when he said,

America, we have a problem with sexism. Don’t try to make this whole matter about the ridiculous rants made by rappers. I deplore what’s in a lot of their music and videos, but hip-hop is only 30 years old. So you mean to tell me that sexism in America only started in 1977?

Now is the time for this nation to undergo a direct examination of the depths of sexism. My media colleagues shouldn’t go just for the easy target ? rap lyrics. That is no doubt a logical next step, but sexism is so much deeper. It is embedded in our churches, synagogues, mosques, schools, Fortune 500 companies and in the political arena. We should target our resources to this issue and raise the consciousness of people, and expose the reality.

Don Imus should not be the period. He can be the comma. Civil rights organizations, media entities, women’s groups and others have an opportunity that they can’t pass up. We have the chance to seize the moment to begin a conversation ?– an in-depth one ?– that has the opportunity to redefine America along the lines of race and sex.

Thinking about writing this, I pondered, what led to gangsta rap in the first place?


1.Mix Black Flight + White Flight + The Burning Bronx + Quasi functional public urban education = You get the conditions that percepitated gangsta rap.

Everyone is aware of the education/quality of of life connection. In fact, Imus’s audience was highly coveted because they were affluent and highly educated.

And I ask again, once you ban gangsta rap, what are you going to put back.

For these folks who want to ban/regulate gangsta rap, I would like to know whether they live in the hood?

Do they want to live in the hood?

Would they send their kids to schools in the hood. Prolly not.

And Why? Because the schools are horrible.

Now lets assume that we don’t have gangsta rap, how would the world even know what was going down in the hood?

Bear in mind that I am aware that this statement presumes that one is even interested in what is going on in the hood. LOL.

So lets imagine a world w/o gangsta rap.

  1. Will dudes still hustle crack?
  2. Will little Black girls still, disporportionality, want to grow up
    and be video vixens?
  3. Will dudes still be hustling loosie’s on 125th and Lenox?
  4. Will the Rockefeller drug laws still apply?
  5. Will more black fathers pay child support?
  6. Will OPD still conduct unconstitutional stop and searches?
  7. Will Katrina get fixed?
  8. Will cats cease getting murked on the reg in Oakland, New Orleans and Philly?
  9. Will there be more than 3 GOOD high schools in New York City?
  10. Will No Child Left Behind STILL be leaving mad brown/black kids in the dust?

Go head ban it.

Probably will just mean better mix tapes anyway.


Know I made some ENEMIES w/ this post.

I put zora on mines so I KNOWS Im good.


Obama, Cosby & All Star Weekend

Obama and Cosby don’t have anything to do w/ Allstar weekend, at least on its face. Give me a couple of days I will come up with a link. lol!

Dope article in the TIMES OF ALL PLACES on racism and how the Allstar weekend is being portrayed in the media.

Stain of Racism Feeds N.B.A.’s Renegade Image

My wife and two sons were with me at the recent N.B.A. All-Star weekend in Las Vegas. The crowds made us feel more claustrophobic than threatened, but maybe that was because we weren’t roaming the nightspots any more than we would have in Los Angeles or New York.

Look for trouble in any densely populated city, and especially where people consume alcohol, and chances are you’ll find it, with or without America’s usual sports suspects — the N.B.A. and its alleged army of hip-hop followers — to blame it on. Rather than stay out into the wee hours, we went to a legends brunch to hear Magic Johnson and John Havlicek speak, to catch glimpses of Kareem and Dr. J.

Contrary to what you might have heard, All-Star weekend was not confined to a strip club or even the Strip.

You can argue that Las Vegas was not the ideal site for an event that traditionally attracts thrill seekers hoping to attach themselves to celebrities and their posses. But the casting of the weekend as a lawless referendum on the N.B.A. product has become exaggerated to the point of being imbecilic and has left Commissioner David Stern in a delicate position, between a Pacman and a hard place.

In an e-mail message, Stern said he was inclined to let the Vegas storm pass, move on as the regular season hits the homestretch. He also said he was ”not necessarily a majority among N.B.A. management,” meaning the strategy is ”subject to change.”

He may yet ask why nobody blamed Nascar for the death of a motorist who was shot in a road-rage encounter during a traffic jam after leaving the Daytona 500.

He may have to point out again that no N.B.A. player was involved in any Las Vegas transgression, compared with a number of N.F.L. players who over the years have turned Super Bowl week into episodes of ”Miami Vice.”

He may crunch crime statistics relative to other sports events and large gatherings like New Year’s Eve that, he said, would prove that All-Star weekend was no behavioral aberration.

Opening an offensive may also be subject to critical interpretation, Stern acknowledged, writing: ”It sounds so damn defensive to throw other numbers out there to defend what has to be acknowledged as bad behavior, although of the 400-plus arrests in Vegas, almost 200 were for prostitution — there I go again.”

Without question, there were people in Las Vegas you wouldn’t have hired as the baby sitter or wanted to run into at the wrong time and place. But check the newspaper clippings and broadcasts from the actual weekend: Nobody raised the terror alert to red, at least not until waking up Monday and hearing about an ugly incident that involved the Tennessee Titans’ Pacman Jones hours after All-Star weekend formally concluded.

Hindsight is 20-20, but a troubled football player accused of inciting a triple shooting — how, exactly, is this a reflection of Stern’s league?

A few hundred arrests over several days, roughly half for prostitution in a city that is the home office for Hookers R Us — how does this qualify as an indictment of a certain (read: African-American) element now said to have been running rampant everywhere but between Dick Bavetta and Charles Barkley during their charity race?

Isn’t it possible that a fair percentage of those arrested included some from among the tens of thousands in town for conventions unrelated to the N.B.A. or to celebrate the Chinese New Year? Or are only black people vulnerable to the seductions of Las Vegas?

”The subject is just so delicious that everyone from Imus to Letterman thinks it’s just hilarious to dump on the ‘hip-hoppers,’ ” Stern wrote. ”Of course, race plays a part in the perceptions. Do you doubt that there were more African-Americans in Las Vegas last week than at any time in its history, and some people felt threatened by that simply as a matter of culture?”

It must be noted that Jason Whitlock, an African-American columnist for The Kansas City Star and America Online, initiated the criticism of All-Star weekend. But his perceptions represent only one of the hundreds of journalists in Las Vegas and ultimately have become less the issue for Stern than the latest round of mostly uninformed N.B.A. bashing it triggered on Talk Show America.

We know Stern’s league has issues. But, once again, pro football players and their entourages have been on a criminal rampage for years while a majority of the news media ignored the sobering reality on the way to another Super Bowl buffet.

Maybe it was the relative anonymity of the average player in a team-first league, compared with the N.B.A.’s individual marketing strategy, that has wrought a more flamboyant and inflammatory product. And maybe, as the Dallas Mavericks’ owner, Mark Cuban, argued via e-mail: ”Football pays the bills for the sports media in every N.F.L. city and some non-N.F.L. cities. It’s that simple.”

Americans respect selling power, benevolent or not, and no athlete wielded more in the 1990s than Sheriff Michael Jordan. But not long after the Bulls’ dynasty crumbled, the N.B.A. was being characterized as too young, too edgy, too scary — code for too black — as it was said to be in the late 1970s, pre-Magic and Bird.

Now it’s also the hip-hop capital of America, Thugs R Us. As if what was possibly the worst N.B.A. disturbance ever, the Pistons-Pacers brawl in November 2004, wasn’t at least half the responsibility of a largely white crowd at the suburban Palace of Auburn Hills.

Talk about drunk, about lawless. And in that case, we do have the video to prove it.

  • So the verdict is that negros are ignorant and don’t know how to act BUT, violence in the NFL is not worth mentioning, nor does it constitute news.
  • Witlocks article gave me the impression that he does not Like Black People, and the Vegas activities gave the the green light to tell the world about it.
  • I never thought of how many people EAT off football, and consequently have an incentive to keep mum about football related violence.
  • Too young, too edgy, too scary, code for being black. That is a dope t-shirt idea.

Somebody send me his address so I can send him a thank you card.


I love what Koch means to hip hop.

It forces cats to crunch the numbers.

As record sales keep sliding, the rise of Koch coincides with the lowering of rappers? expectations. Five years ago, no self-respecting rapper ? certainly no self-respecting New York rapper ? would ever have bragged about selling 400,000 records. But if you?re not going to sell a million CDs with a major label, you may well be better off at Koch, accepting a lower recording and promotional budget in exchange for a higher royalty rate. That?s why rappers are so ambivalent about Koch: signing there means giving up the dream of pop stardom, or, at any rate, deferring it.


Sports serves as a wonderful platform for racialicious ponderings. God Bless America.


Go See East Of Havana or You Ain’t Hip Hop.

I slept yall. I saw this movie almost a month ago and I have been meaning to tell you about it. East of Havana is about Hip Hip in Cuba.

The filmmakers ? who are Cuban-American themselves ? zero in on a collective called El Cartel, composed of the charismatic Mikki (a flirt who raises pigeons), a poetic woman named Magyori (a street huckster who’s as tough as any guy) and the group’s political firebrand, Soandry, who laments the marginalization of politically tinged rap since its heyday in the United States in the early 1990s. (“I live trapped in that time,” he admits.)

Although the film is set in 2004 during the weeklong run-up to the International Festival of Rap Cubano and in the shadow of Hurricane Charley, there’s no phony urgency. The filmmakers are mainly interested in hearing the music and learning about the musicians’ compelling personal stories. (Soandry, for instance, longs to be reunited with his older brother, who fled to the United States a decade earlier.)

And trust. You WILL be a different person after you watch it. I know, my back pack readers, b-girls/boys, and the mtv jawns, might think, here she go with this sh*t again.

Following Magyori and fellow rappers
as they prepare for an international hip-hop festival taking place in Havana in 2004, East of Havana sets their individual stories against the bitter, resilient landscape of Cuba’s political history. For the youth in the film, music doesn’t just have a purpose, it is a purpose, and the artists find in hip-hop a “mental freedom,” a lyrical and ideological purity that recalls American hip-hop before it crusted over with diamonds and demagogues.

But please believe there is nothing like seeing fools rap, JUST FOR THE SAKE OF RAPPIN.

Seeing a dude in Cuba, live near the beach, not really have a lot of paper, BUT has crazy love for hip hop.


2 of the three characters had to go outside to get water either from a pump or from a cooler.

THAT SH*T was bananas. The female character in the documentary HUSTLES USED CLOTHES TO MAKE PAPER. The IDEA of Get Rich or Die Trying, or Bling, Or Coming Up, is foreign to them. I swear, for these cats, hip hop is like breathing. And it makes my 89-92 loving heart smile.

While it may not come to your local theaters.

Netflix it.

IMDB it.

Myspace it.

Get that sh*t into ya life.



Hi Blog fam.

Has anyone else seen it?