Urban Stories
“This was part of a conversation I had with a Brother a while back. His name was Willie. I don’t know his last name. Willie was something of a street philosopher. Not educated, but smart. I’ve recounted it, as best I can remember.” - Shaka Zulu
Willie - Niggas was going crazy, shootin’ guns and shit! They was so much violence going on in them streets, yo mama couldn’t go to the store and get bread. I mean, kids was gettin’ shot, too, being killed in they beds. It was welfare city, man! Living off Uncle Sam’s dime, plus some food stamps, plus drug sales, and whatever else poor people with a few bucks buy; nice car, slick clothes, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Rap music’s about niggas shootin niggas. That’s the message. Women with big asses. Ho’s and bitches.
Then some educated nigga start talkin’ about Africa.
Nigga ain’t never been to Africa! What he know? Mutha fukka get eaten by a lion first night there. Shit! Niggas be talkin’ out they ass. That’s what they doin’!
Shit, man! These ain’t no John Coltrane niggas. These some broke-ass, macaroni and cheese eatin’ niggas.
(A white man walking by could be heard over the din of the beats and rhymes on the streets, in the streets, around the streets.)
Shaka Zulu - “Who’s that?”
He dressed rich, not a cop, a business man, with some money, maybe. You could see, niggas was lookin’ him up and down.
They was thinkin,’ is this man a fool—carrying a fat wallet—loaded with cash? That’s what they was thinkin’.
Maybe this fool wasn’t a fool, though? Maybe he was connected?
Shaka Zulu - “To who?”
Somebody, that maybe, people shouldn’t be fucking with. Niggas may be crazy, but they ain’t stupid. Any white man dressed like that—lookin’ like he money—and ain’t afraid? That’s the white man you better watch out for. Shoot a white man like that? And some dumb-ass nigga find himself swingin’ in the breeze. You know what I mean?
Shaka Zulu - “What about education?”
Niggas didn’t always talk like they talk now. Niggas could speak and write, just like white-folk, and we talkin,’ way back, too. Fifty years ago. Sixty years ago. Wasn’t no Ebonics. Wasn’t no made up, fake-ass African names, like Laquisha, and Lashaonda, Shonteasha. Man! I can’t even pronounce some of them names.
Nowadays, every nigga from here to East Louis carryin’ guns, shootin’ mutha fuckas, cause somebody step on they shoes.
Momma got babies, but ain’t got no daddies. Grandma’s 34, and she got 5 kids, none of them got daddies, all of em on welfare. They can’t spell, can’t talk, can’t write, can’t read, but they know how to squeeze the government for money. That’s they only skill. That and having more babies. So they can get mo money.
Now, you understand, I ain’t talkin’ bout Black people. I’m talking about niggas. Niggas ain’t Black people. White people can be niggas! White trash, hillbilly-ass, interbreeding mutha fuckas! You see, niggas can be niggas, and white people can be niggas, just like everybody else can be niggas. That’s what you got to separate, the niggas, from everybody else.
Niggas useful, though. Politicians love niggas, cause niggas always have needs. Niggas can’t take care of they self. At least, that’s what politicians think. That mean that the politician who offer niggas the most money, they the ones niggas vote for.
Like I said, niggas ain’t stupid. Plus, it feel good for them white people to be needed by niggas. That way they feel like they doing God’s work, when they really using niggas, to do they dirty work. These mutha fuckas could care less about niggas.
That’s how you hold down a nigga, by pretending to lift him up. The minute a nigga get outta line and try and lift they own self up, the man, uncle Charlie, whitey, blackie, political niggas of all kinds, they knock the brother back down. Sayin’ “Don’t get uppity nigga! You gonna cost me my job! So, sit down, and shut-the-fuck-up!”
That’s the message. That’s why we got niggas, niggas and mo’ niggas. Because niggas good for politics.
Problem is, that kind’a politics, ain’t good for niggas.
Shaka Zulu
Willie - Niggas was going crazy, shootin’ guns and shit! They was so much violence going on in them streets, yo mama couldn’t go to the store and get bread. I mean, kids was gettin’ shot, too, being killed in they beds. It was welfare city, man! Living off Uncle Sam’s dime, plus some food stamps, plus drug sales, and whatever else poor people with a few bucks buy; nice car, slick clothes, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Rap music’s about niggas shootin niggas. That’s the message. Women with big asses. Ho’s and bitches.
Then some educated nigga start talkin’ about Africa.
Nigga ain’t never been to Africa! What he know? Mutha fukka get eaten by a lion first night there. Shit! Niggas be talkin’ out they ass. That’s what they doin’!
Shit, man! These ain’t no John Coltrane niggas. These some broke-ass, macaroni and cheese eatin’ niggas.
(A white man walking by could be heard over the din of the beats and rhymes on the streets, in the streets, around the streets.)
Shaka Zulu - “Who’s that?”
He dressed rich, not a cop, a business man, with some money, maybe. You could see, niggas was lookin’ him up and down.
They was thinkin,’ is this man a fool—carrying a fat wallet—loaded with cash? That’s what they was thinkin’.
Maybe this fool wasn’t a fool, though? Maybe he was connected?
Shaka Zulu - “To who?”
Somebody, that maybe, people shouldn’t be fucking with. Niggas may be crazy, but they ain’t stupid. Any white man dressed like that—lookin’ like he money—and ain’t afraid? That’s the white man you better watch out for. Shoot a white man like that? And some dumb-ass nigga find himself swingin’ in the breeze. You know what I mean?
Shaka Zulu - “What about education?”
Niggas didn’t always talk like they talk now. Niggas could speak and write, just like white-folk, and we talkin,’ way back, too. Fifty years ago. Sixty years ago. Wasn’t no Ebonics. Wasn’t no made up, fake-ass African names, like Laquisha, and Lashaonda, Shonteasha. Man! I can’t even pronounce some of them names.
Nowadays, every nigga from here to East Louis carryin’ guns, shootin’ mutha fuckas, cause somebody step on they shoes.
Momma got babies, but ain’t got no daddies. Grandma’s 34, and she got 5 kids, none of them got daddies, all of em on welfare. They can’t spell, can’t talk, can’t write, can’t read, but they know how to squeeze the government for money. That’s they only skill. That and having more babies. So they can get mo money.
Now, you understand, I ain’t talkin’ bout Black people. I’m talking about niggas. Niggas ain’t Black people. White people can be niggas! White trash, hillbilly-ass, interbreeding mutha fuckas! You see, niggas can be niggas, and white people can be niggas, just like everybody else can be niggas. That’s what you got to separate, the niggas, from everybody else.
Niggas useful, though. Politicians love niggas, cause niggas always have needs. Niggas can’t take care of they self. At least, that’s what politicians think. That mean that the politician who offer niggas the most money, they the ones niggas vote for.
Like I said, niggas ain’t stupid. Plus, it feel good for them white people to be needed by niggas. That way they feel like they doing God’s work, when they really using niggas, to do they dirty work. These mutha fuckas could care less about niggas.
That’s how you hold down a nigga, by pretending to lift him up. The minute a nigga get outta line and try and lift they own self up, the man, uncle Charlie, whitey, blackie, political niggas of all kinds, they knock the brother back down. Sayin’ “Don’t get uppity nigga! You gonna cost me my job! So, sit down, and shut-the-fuck-up!”
That’s the message. That’s why we got niggas, niggas and mo’ niggas. Because niggas good for politics.
Problem is, that kind’a politics, ain’t good for niggas.
Shaka Zulu