Last Friday night, Kim Jong-Illmatic and I found ourselves sat South Brooklyn Pizza (…meh) with our friends L and M. Maybe it was all the Manhattans, Kettle One martinis and beers that we’d downed earlier in the evening – Kim Jong Illmatic, M and I were drinking for five that evening, as L is five months pregnant and both she and the baby have been medically advised to abstain from alcohol for a while. Maybe it was the giddy mood borne from actually doing something on a Friday night rather than collapsing on our couch in an exhausted, dull heap. Maybe it’s that we were all children of the 1990s, and the song is part of our adolescent soundtrack. Whatever it was, the minute Biggie Smalls’ Juicy started blasting from the bartender’s ipod, the evening turned into an impromptu karaoke night.
Minutes before we’d been discussing our upcoming long weekend in upstate New York and the mechanics of buying a life insurance policy – boring adult stuff – and the next we were singing* about all the teachers that told us we’d I'd never amount to nothin', about all the people that lived above the buildings that we were hustlin' in front of that called the police on us when we was just tryin' to make some money to feed our daughters. Remember?
It was all a dream
I used to read Word Up magainze
Salt n' Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine
Hangin' pictures on my wall
Every Saturday Rap Attack, Mr. Magic Marley Marl
I let my tape rock 'til my tape popped
Smokin' weed and bamboo, sippin' on Private Stock
Way back, when I had the red and black lumberjack
With the hat to match
Remember Rappin' Duke, duh-har duh-har
You never thought hip hop would take it this far
Now I'm in the limelight cuz I rhyme tight
Time to get paid blow up like the World Trade
Born sinner, the opposite of a winner
Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner
Peace to Ron G, Brucey B, Kid Capri
Funkmaster Flex, Lovebug Starsky
I'm blowin' up like you thought I would
Call the crib, same number same hood
Ten dollars, babies! And reedonkulously comfortable.
Now all I need is a hat to match.
And to remember to sip champagne when I’m thirst-ay and to spread love because it's the Brooklyn way. Damn right I like the life I live, 'cause I went from negative to positive. And it's all good.
*Screeching? Wailing? My memory’s a bit compromised, you see. Also, I know for a fact that I can’t sing for isht.
© Chommo, 2009
