If someone asked me about one of my favorite childhood memories, I would tell them about me and Lil' Greg riding in a hoopty when we were kids, probably somewhere in PG County.
During this car ride, I was interrogating Lil' Greg about how many action figures his dad had and about movies our moms would let us go see in theaters. Regular hood stuff. Through the banter about our prepubescent garble, a man who sounded like someone stapled 85% of teeth together with peanut butter had been reciting lines with some old lady by momma' used to listen too. After 2 minutes of listening to this song, I realized I didn't want to listen to Lil' Bow Wow anymore.
In the mid 2000s, the man who was doing "pretty hood in his pink polo" had lodged himself in my brain; ordered cable, internet, phone, and started a tomato garden. This was right around the time MF DOOM, Outkast, Jay-Z, N.E.R.D., and most old school hip-hop had infiltrated my airwaves. Even with all of these artists, it seemed I was more emphatic about this college dropout's everyday life.
In 2008, I knew everything about pledging 'Broke Phi Broke', diamonds from Sierra Leone, Jesus walking, coming home, wanting to get on a spaceship after being a token black, having Deray Davis impersonate Bernie Mac as an alarm clock, listening to Marvin Gaye, Luther Vandross, with just a hint of Anita. Songs that I believed to sound like poems (which a lot of them were) climbed up through my earphones and car stereo speakers, filling me with stories from a ghetto pop-up book. It became my fuel for the day and safe haven at night. It became the #1 topic starter and my #1 topic stopper. Still never understood the bear thing though.
Then there was the introduction to heartbreak. There were the ghost writers, the erratic and completely unexcused behavior, the tragedy that soon followed. There were some things The World Famous Tony Williams couldn't fix. I had seen him perform months after his mother died, on Mother's Day performing "Hey Mama". The inconsistency as an artist and as a black man in America came to fruition. It broke my heart, and it still does. I remember watching him do interviews with David Letterman; it was gut wrenching. To this day it makes me cringe when mayonnaise people go to his concerts and talk about how great his music is and they don't even know the man I grew up with. I wanted to help him and let him know that it is okay to seek treatment for mental illness. But I was just a teenager from the south, from the outside looking in.
Most recently I did go through and block any image or news article of him from popping up. It hurts to see and talk about it unless you know where I am coming from. Part of me knew that this is the same person who sat down on "Life and Rhymes of..." and blared Souls of Mischief on MTV. Could you imagined I used to get hilariously huge headphones and would put my head down, bopping until head bopped off my neck? I wanted to go to college even if I had registered late, dropped out, but I knew if I could do anything if Magic made it and graduate.
I know everyone can't be saved and everyone isn't who you once thought they were. But this is family business; never in my life have I gotten angry at a cousin then never talk to them again. When I get mad at family, it is more intense and lethal because I love you there's an expectation expected out of you. Never in my life would I have a family member struggling and not help them. So if you know what I am talking about, understand it's that same energy to some of these celebrities I grew up with.
Just to serve as a reminder that it's okay to hate something but I feel as though you have to had at least loved it first.
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