For starters, I’ve got to commend Bakari
Akil II for the column; Is Hip-Hop A Culture? I find it fascinating that collectively
we, as a people are on this journey to define our culture. Damn, I wish I were
seated in the center first row at Florida A&M when the respected Tim Reid,
posed the question of a lifetime: What is Hip-hop and Is it a Culture?
Imagine Kay without a response. That’s like
knowing all the answers on a final but choosing to fail. Never.
However, when it comes to the Hip-Hop culture,
I feel we, the people should stop the let’s find a definition game and
defend this dynamic sub, which is now an above ground culture.
Tell me. Who is the Culture God? Who decides
when our stamp in society is good enough? Who are we basing our recognition
and acceptance on? Whose scrolls are we following? Would we feel refreshed and
content if white America and its board of achievers finally said we were official?
This is by no means an attack on any true supporter of Hip-hop within Caucasian
race. This is a launch against closet haters.
The Hip-hop culture is molded by key elements:
breakin’, djin’, graffin’, and so. But what happens when a person
feels the wind of this culture without engaging in any of these activities?
Are they ousted or unrecognized. Nope. The culture embraces everyone. Take a
look at our backers worldwide. Hip-hop isn’t exclusive like country clubs.
As a mater of fact, the Hip-hop culture away
from the key elements gives off a conscious feeling of belonging without the
puff and snazzy marketing tools. It is about identifying with the pioneers that
made this culture so ill. It’s about relating with the new choice generation
with an added spin. See, some got it twisted. Hip-hop isn’t all about rap
music. Only “outsiders looking in” think like that. Simply scholar’s
that traditionally write articles on Shakespeare cooked up to publish a book
on Jigga for a buck. The same scholars that tap into already reported information
on the Biggie and Tupac wars and think they are on to something.
Please. Stick to analyzing Socrates.
Back to what Hip-hop ain’t.
Hip-hop isn’t all about gats and drugs.
Name a genre, race, or creed that hasn’t brandished a gun to kill while
getting stoned. Hip-hop isn’t about buying out bars or copping crimson
colored Cadillac’s season-to season. Name an Irish or Italian crime unit
that didn’t floss. I’ve done my homework. I study American History.
Hip-hop is bigger than that. Don’t let the opposition drive you into straight
The buck stops here.
We ain’t defining this culture anymore.
Take it or leave it.
Next up: Politicians
Bill O’Reilly and any key politician cocked
behind a cherry wood desk needs to realize that Hip-hop holds no room for discussion.
The facts around the globe show that your golf partners that head up major retail
firms are adapting to this culture. They like and love this culture. Name a
commercial we haven’t influenced.
Something is seriously wrong if our culture of
baggy denim wearers has Senator’s children in a scurry to cop the new 50
Cent. “G, G, G, G-Unit!” It looks like YOUR children are going through
identity and social issues. The idea of wanting and yearning to align with so
called underachievers and arrogant folk would send me to the quack.
Understand, when we break down to social classes,
how can this culture make so many kids from perfecto household’s revolt?
It’s obvious. The attraction to this culture has nothing to do with how
many times bitches and diamonds are spilled on a track. It has to do with pop
culture using their sixth sense to see past the smoking mirrors that cloud our
culture by politicians and journalists with no analytical skills.
And so what, certain acts in the rap aspect of
Hip-hop embrace a flashy life. Haven’t the affluent driven on our filthy
streets in candy red coupes while the hood pushed go-carts. Haven’t the
affluent teased us with lavish lifestyles as we sat stuck in poverty stricken
boarders. Haven’t they made us feel less than below average because the
furthest the hood has traveled was down the block? And that journey on broken
heels was to meet mama at the market.
I figure if a waves of talented youths ignored
by the masses are able to make something out of nothing, let them. If they can
flip a thought into an enterprise, let them. Maybe your kids should be paying
attention to the Hip-hop culture, instead of being spoon fed success.
The last few concerts I’ve been to, I had
to win my way in via radio weeks in advance, since seats were sold out by a
new wave of supporters. Back in the day, we could have copped a ticket to see
the biggest Hip-hop act in a mom and pop hall, an hour before the show! Now
we gotta fuck with arenas. All politics. I’ll leave that alone.
Back to Billy my favorite Bill. I suggest you
drop all the thug magazines that you possess in your library as weapons of Hip-hop’s
destruction and engage in a battle with Hip-hop journalists you’re skeptical
interview, because they’d bring brains to the table. That wouldn’t
be good for your ratings. Imagine a rapper or affiliate challenging Bill with
knowledge. Your mission is so see-through and so typical. Off course if you
dialogue with gangster rappers, they’ll tell you gangster shit.
So the question is still on the table. What is
the Hip-hop culture? Simple. It’s a way of life. It’s a grind meant
for grinders. It’s a group that can stand in the face of adversity and
utilize the raw tools that the higher being granted to be used creatively. Whether
that’s rapping over pounding tracks, breaking on cardboard, airbrushing
ball hats, or kicking it in a corner using our slang and hands that switch like
traffic lights. So be it. There ain’t no Culture God. We don’t need
Whoever can’t agree with it, I suggest you
be a decision-maker and don’t agree with it. Shut down your Internet and
stay away from every clothing and food franchise that uses a bass riff in its
commercial to draw you in. Complain to the local and national politicians that
the Hip-hop culture is damaging your picket fence home, your introverted kids,
and your fluffy pup.
We earned this shit. And really ya’ll are
the buyers and investors.
All we did was tiptoe across the world quiet
as kept. We shouted, “BOO!” and shook the fucking world up. We took
a blank sheet of paper and painted words that moved the alphabet. We stormed
through any hood USA and communicated without handbooks.
We did it by ourselves, without a constitution. We did it by ourselves if there
is any confusion.
Let’s build a Hip-hop front, instead of
complaining about beefs on wax.
It’s our ART and no outsider should tear