Kendrick Lamar ft. Jay Rock “Money Trees” from the 2012 album Good Kid, m.A.A.d. City
Yo. First of all, I have been sleeping heavily on Jay Rock. I’m talmbout heavy dosage of that Nyquil, Ra-tat-tatted with a tranquilizer gun, straight sleeping with no dreaming. I know understand why Jay Rock was the first to gain a bit of notoriety for the Black Hippy crew.
Upon my first interaction of the GKMC album, I realized on the tracklisting that Kendrick did not have much features and only one that displayed the presence of a Black Hippy crew member. I guessed he didn’t want anything of such a conceptual album that would impede on the conceptualness (yea, I’m making up words muhhfucka). After listening to Jay Rock’s verse, there is no way that K.dot could have left this of the album. Shit, in my opinion, it’s the best verse in the album.
Jay Rock hit us up with a super dupa floetic, well-measured 16 bars of that good shit. Lyrics, on point. Flow, on point. Charisma, on point. References, on point. What else do you need?
Imagine Rock up in the projects where them niggas pick your pockets
Santa Claus don’t miss them stockings, liquor spilling pistols popping
Baking soda YOLA whipping, ain’t no turkey on Thanksgiving
My homeboy just domed a nigga, I just hope the Lord forgive him
Pots with cocaine residue, everyday I’m hustling
What else is a thug to do when you eatin’ cheese from the government
Gotta provide for my daughter n’em, get the fuck up out my way, bitch
Got that drum and got them bands just like a parade, bitch
Drop that work up in the bushes, hope them boys don’t see my stash
If they do tell the truth, this the last time you might see my ass
From the gardens where the grass ain’t cut, them serpents lurking blood
Bitches selling pussy, niggas selling drugs but it’s all good
Broken promises, steal yo watch and tell you what time it is
Take your J’s and tell you to kick it where a footlocker is
In the streets with a heater under my dungarees
Dreams of me getting shaded under a money tree
It’s 5:50 a.m. Christmas morning and sleep as yet to rub me down.
It’s not like I went out. Or stayed up late with my family, they went to sleep at midnight.
And it wasn’t like I was up waiting for Santa’s punk ass to come through and drop some gifts. I just was unable to sleep. (And I am grown ass man now)
I remember when I was 7 or 8 years old and I actually waited for that motherfucka, Santa to come through our sliding door (since we had no chimney).
I had milk and Oreos plus my set of puppy eyes ready for him and that fool never came. I initially assumed that he was scared to come through to the ‘hood. The late-night crooks would have probably mugged him for his sleigh ride joint and sell it to a chop shop and pawn all the toys.
I’m embarrassed that I ever believed in Santa. My parents never did, they even told me that he was not and never will be coming, I wished I believed them then. I was a frustrated child of irrational hope tho.
Understand, during that time, I was attending an elementary school that had predominately suburban middle-class white population. The school was a hour drive away from my ‘hood and the immediate world that my 7 or 8 years old self knew. The only reason I went was because of the ESOL program for immigrant students. Anyways, envy would revel up after the Christmas break, the kids would rave about all the cool shit that the motherfucka Santa got them. I didn’t get any of cool gifts that you would see on tv, I just inherited generic gifts from the toy drive (Outdoor Basketball, UNO cards, Connect Four). For that reason, I thought Santa was racist. A chump ass racist that didn’t look out for the kids like me.
Let it be known, I did enjoy my gifts tho. I just didn’t appreciate the preferential treatment.
Aight. It’s Christmas. I’m tired as hell. And I do look forward to seeing the smiling faces on all the children I come across today. Santa or no Santa, every kid deserves joy.
Speaking of Eve, the rapper, she was dope. Trendsetter fo’ real. I know she wasn’t the first with pawprint tats but she did popularize the flavor of it. And she was sexy. Her and Toni Braxton made me appreciate woman with short hair.
It’s 2:00am, Christmas Eve and it doesn’t really feel like Christmas at all. Or maybe I’m just not a jolly as fellow. Lately, I have become anti-social, how awkward is it that I am composing a blog on a “social” media site? Anyways, I received bad news and bad news always makes me keep to myself. Reason being, I don’t want to be that guy that lashes out at someone for some random reason, so I utilize preventative measures to keep myself in check. Check yourself, before you wreck someone else’s self type thang. Fun fact, I actually can’t recall the last time I typed “thing” instead of “thang”, I’m proud of myself for that.
Amongst the bad news, I got good news too; My pops is coming up today, so that will be great to see him and spend some time with him. I wish I had a show, I would take him so that he could see me perform again.
I competed in a poetry slam at Drake Underground Hotel this past Saturday. And for the first time in a long ass time, I didn’t get 2nd place….I got 3rd. Damn. It’s not the 1st place that I was chasing but it’s all good. My teammate Cathy Petch won, so I was proud of her. My performance made me want to be a soul singer badly.
I have been listening to Womack & Womack lately. The husband-and-wife duo of Cecil Womack (Bobby’s Lil Bro and Linda Womack (Sam Cooke’s daughter… geez, she’s fine). There’s one joint in particular called “Love’s Calling”, which really hit me deep. Funny thing is, I don’t know what the hell the song is about because I don’t want the hell Bobby is saying… but it hits me…and I just want to sing. Sing outside of my shower, outside of my room, outside of the 15 sec snippets that I insert into my poems… I just want to sing proudly. One step at a time tho.
Shout out to Calvin Johnson. He broke Jerry Rice record for receiving yards in a season. Growing up as a 49ers fan and idolizing Jerry Rice, I must say that Calvin Johnson deserves the respect of all NFL fans. I want to be more like Calvin, he doesnt talk shit, he just works hard. Get shit done. He reminds me of my Pops. I want to be more like my Pops. I will learn more from him when I see him later.
i used to be scared of light
i didn’t want my insecurities to be visible
my beauty became a casualty
and buried deep
beneath the fertile soil of non-acknowledgement
there you rose
and your rays of light
and digged, and digged, and digged
the complete essence of me
and burned, and burned
and burned away my shame
and you called me
you say that i don’t need you
but now, i’m scared of dark days
and the grey clouds are expanding
and the hours of the night are getting longer
and i want to run
i want to run to the safest thing that i know
i want to bask
it’s the safest feeling that i know
i need to sweat
it’s the safest release that i know
that can be dangerous
but i can live dangerously
as long as i know
you will be there to heal me again
there you go
as you set in again
the settings of my love
have been adjusted to you
i just, i just
want to see you smile across the sky
and the oceans of my blood dance beneath you
the mountains of doubt have bowed into non-existence
i doubt that i could ever get tired of this
you treat me like i’m heaven
that’s why i feel so close to you
there you go
as you set in again
the settings of my being says