Hexmurda Wishes You…MANY MORE!

[Hexmurda is a columnist for AllHipHop.com. His views don’t necessarily represent those of AllHipHop.com, but this one is pretty close to how many of us feel, you know minus the grammatical brutality.]

Well, kiddies it’s that time of the week again. Yup, I’m back.

Two columns down and I haven’t received my pink slip (yet). I’m not

gonna get too comfortable though, because I’m sure S&P (that’s

‘Standards & Practices’, all you internet CEO’s should learn that one.

Write it down next to ‘First Week numbers’ ans ‘distribution’, it’ll make

you sound smart at your next shareholders meeting) is just itching to

tell Jigsaw to end his Ex-Offender Outreach experiment and pull the plug

on “the dude who says ‘N***A’ all the time.”

 

Like I give a f**k, n***a.

 

This was supposed to be an easy week for me.

Talk some s**t about Real & Chance, (the 2009 Shabba Doo &

Boogaloo Shrimp), lock in with Diddy & his band, and figure out if

(Lady?) Gaga is playing “The Crying Game.”

As usual, it never works out the way it should.

 

F***ing Hip-Hop supposedly had a birfday or some shit last week. (Click here to read the AllHipHop Report on Hip-Hop’s birthday.) Nobody

else really said s**t about it, so why should I, right?

 

Somebody in the Bronx (I hope it was Kool Herc, ’cause he would know)

said so, so I gotta take their word for it.

Trust me, I didn’t even want to write this s**t. The last thing I wanted

to do is write some long-a** piece chronicling Hip-Hop.

 

F**k that.

 

Ya’ll know the story already. And if you don’t know, go rent “WildStyle”

and “Beat Street.”

 

I’m sure you guys can figure it out.

 

Alas, I get all ready to send in my bulls**t little blurbs about

“Hip-Pop” culture and a funny thing happens.

 

I have a goddamn epiphany. F**k.

 

The strangest f**king epiphany in the whole history of f***ing

epiphanies.

 

And what’s the catalyst for this 1000 watt light bulb goin’ off in my

dinosaur sized brain?

 

N.W.A.

 

“Always Into Something”

 

Yup, in the car riding down the street, listening to “Always Into

Something,” and Sha-Pow! Right there in my mind’s eye, I saw what I had

to do.

 

Wait, let me be a little more clear.

 

Riding down the street in a f***ing SmartCar in Barcelona, Spain

listening to “Always Into Something.”

 

On the radio.

 

With cussing and everything.

 

Two questions popped into my head, “Why the f**k are they playing N.W.A

on commercial radio, and what the f**k am I doing in Spain?”

 

Two questions, same answer.

 

Hip-Hop.

 

And it’s not like that N.W.A. cut was some Super Hip-Hop joint like

“T.R.O.Y” by Pete Rock and CL Smooth or something.

 

It’s not even my favorite N.W.A record.

 

S**t, Cube wasn’t even on the joint.

 

Cube wasn’t even in the group anymore.

 

It was just the fact that a group like N.W.A., which had it’s own

critics on our side of the water, made music powerful enough to be

played over 17 years later, in another non-English speaking country.

 

Hip-Hop.

 

Hip-Hop had me all the way on the other side of the world, and Hip-Hop

had a 17-year old record on the radio enabling MC Ren and Dr.Dre to talk

s**t to Spaniards.

 

I couldn’t ignore it.

 

Some people call that type of thing, “A SIGN.”

 

I call it, “F**k, now I gotta re-write my AllHipHop News column.”

 

How in the f**k was I going to write a column for “AllHipHop.com” and

not shout out Hip-Hop?

 

AND it just had a BIRFDAY?

 

F**k, what a quandary.

 

I don’t like getting into all this Real Hip-Hop/ Hip-Hop purist/Hip-Hop

elitist bulls**t. (I’m an elitist because I like my rappers to be able

to actually rap?)

 

So this ain’t that.

 

This is about respecting the music, culture and lifestyle that means so

much to so many.

 

I don’t give a damn if you’re a fan of Rakim or Gucci Mane. I’m not

drawing a line in the sand today.

 

This is for everybody.

 

If you ever heard a Hip-Hop record that gave you goosebumps that you

played until either the tape popped or the words faded off the cassette,

say “Thank You.”

 

If you ever tagged something, ANYTHING with a can of Kryleon or with a

Sharpie, say “Thank You.”

 

If you ever almost broke your damn neck trying to do a “windmill/

helicopter,” say “Thank You.”

 

If you ever made a muthaf***ing dollar due to Hip-Hop,(even if it was

from selling bootlegs) you should bow your f***ing head and say “Thank

You.”

 

If you ever got up on a stage in front of either two or two million

people on some Hip-Hop s**t, say “Thank You.”

 

Be grateful, because this s**t aint owed or promised to us. Hip-Hop has

made a few dudes wealthy, a lot of cats rich, and has given a whole

generation an identity. It gave us our own CNN in AllHipHop, our own

journalists, our own heroes, our own villains.

 

Our own voice.

 

It gave us something to call OUR OWN.

 

It was ours.

 

We claimed it, we coveted it.

 

We became very familiar with Hip-Hop. And that’s where we f***ed up.

 

Familiarity breeds contempt.

 

So we began to neglect it.

 

And disrespect it.

 

And abuse it.

 

We started f***ing Hip-Hop up. (Well, I didn’t. You know, ’cause I’m an

elitist and all.)

 

You know what I mean, and you know who you are.

The quest for personal gain overrode the quest to make the dopest

record.

 

Hip-Hop stopped being “F**k the police”,”s**k my d**k”, “f**k yo’ mama”

music, and it turned into fucking elevator music.

 

That’s un-f***ing-acceptable.

 

I dig Samuel L.Jackson, but I’ll be damned if I want to see him “Crank

Dat.”

 

I don’t wanna see Tom Cruise doing Young Joc’s “Motorcycle” dance any more than I would

wanna see Ellen Degeneres Crip Walking or doin’ the Earl Flynn.

 

That s**t isn’t for THEM.

 

They’re supposed to turn up their noses and cross the street when they

see a n***a rocking his headphones rhyming along outloud, not walk up to

him like, “Ooohhh, can I listen?”

 

We’ve allowed Hip-Hop to become commercialized and marginalized.

 

I can remember when n****s used to bang on the table or beatbox to

supply the rhythms for an MC. When niggas rhymed in ciphers for free

because they loved it, and because they were NICE.

 

Now everydamnbody got an MPC, Protools, Reason, Logic, or Fruity Loops,

and a f***ing two-page business plan.

 

And almost everydamnbody sucks.

 

And almost NOBODY is “nice.”

 

I understand, trust me.

 

This is Big Business. There’s a lot of money at stake. Everybody wants

their piece of the proverbial pie.

 

Man, f**k that pie.

 

If you’re trying to do this music s**t in hopes of getting rich then

you’re in the wrong business for the wrong reasons.

 

This is MUSIC.

 

The soundtrack to our lives.

 

It should mean more than a check.

 

Hip-Hop supposedly had a birfday, so I guess we should get on our

grown-up s**t.

 

You know, throw out the sports jerseys and white tees, put your Ryan

Kenny button up on, pull up those britches (yup, I said “britches”,

n***as) and get a glass of Ciroc & lemonade (cause Puff said so.) I

don’t know when niggas switched from being Hip-Hop renegades to becoming

Hip-Hop conformists.

 

F**k that, too.

 

Take the music back.

 

Don’t let me or anybody else tell you what the fuck Hip-Hop is. If you

wanna wear gators and listen to Suga Free, that’s up to you, pimp. If

you’re a “dirty boot n***a” who listens to M.O.P. or Sean Price, do that

shit. If you’re a rap nerd who wants to sit at home all day and try to

dissect how Dilla chopped drums, knock yourself out. F**k it, I’m on my

solidarity s**t today-if you wanna wear jeans so tight that they lower

your sperm count, go raid your little sister’s closet, and do your

thing. F**k it.

 

If that’s your Hip-Hop, hold it down. But be warned, there’s a new

history being written.

 

A history filled with robot-voices, corny late night commercials with

rapping car salesmen and rappers who flat-out CAN’T RAP. It’s inevitable

that will be part of Hip-Hop’s legacy, but we can’t allow it to be THEE

LEGACY.

 

This music/culture has provided a means for a lot of n***as to survive

and make a decent living. I feel both honored and blessed to be a part

of it.

 

So do what you gotta do, but don’t take Hip-Hop for granted.

 

Respect it.

 

Protect it.

 

F**k it, I’ll say it, “Love it.”

 

So HappyF***ing Birfday, Hip-Hop.

 

I hope somebody gives you a faded cassette tape.

 

“Always Into Something” – N.W.A.

 

 

“Happy Birthday” – Hip-Hop Harry

 

 

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