GFUNK In Yo Trunk: 2Pac Must Be Rolling Over In His Grave...

I am going to try and stay as calm as possible when writing this entry. “Try” being the operative word, and right now, I do not think I’m going to succeed for long. As everyone knows, I am a self-professed Tupac whore. His brilliance and impact on society, music, and culture has long been documented by countless people, including some of the most brilliant minds of our times. Nikki Giovanni, multiple award winner, poet, professor, and icon has “Thug Life” tattooed on her forearm paying homage to him, just to serve as a single example. I taught school for three years and had a poster of Tupac hanging on the wall of my classroom the entire time, much to the dismay of my principals. My thinking was simple,: fuck y’all, he’s a genius (so, again, fuck y'all).

Tupac is the man who had a barbecue in LA where he invited rival gang leaders to discuss the violence and issues present in that community. They showed up, met, talked, and above all came up with a list of rules that would be put in place to continue their enterprises while simultaneously making the community safer for civilians. In the end, there are pictures that surfaced showing where some of these bangers even traded colors to signify their agreements. Do most fans know this story? Not in my experience. Was this a major news story? No. Did Tupac do this for the attention? No. It was just something he realized needed to happen, so he did it.

Beyond the albums and videos, beyond the repeated acts of violence that were unfortunately the downfall to this brilliant man, Tupac was simply a force to be reckoned with. I don’t think there is a single hip hop head that doesn’t have love for him. I don’t think there is a single person who can say they love the music but hate him. I just don’t understand how that could be in the realm of possibility. Tupac was the physical manifestation of hip hop’s soul. Everyone might not see that, but I do, and I know what the fuck I’m talking about.

With all that being said, I am now going to approach a subject that literally has my blood boiling. There is a song that has been released within the past month or so entitled “Tupac Back” by one Meek Mill and his boss, Ross. Reading the title made me just shake my head and wonder what in the fuck these fools are thinking. So, I purposely didn’t listen. In light of some other news to be discussed at a later date, I decided today to give it a listen. Needless to say, I am so irate at the sheer balls of these two idiots that I cannot contain myself. Meek Mill is a fucking joke. I watched a UStream of Wale in the studio and turned the damn thing off because he was in the camera spitting his garbage lyrics that a fucking toddler could have written in one of those big ass crayons. I know that every single time he started spitting his shit, the comments on the board would go from shout outs and love at Wale to people telling this man to get off the fucking camera, quit rapping, because he sucks. And now he has the gumption to have a track with Rick Ross (who we’ll discuss in greater depth in an upcoming post), where these two proclaim that THEY have people saying “Tupac Back” makes me wonder if these two assholes even understand who Tupac was.

I listened to maybe a minute of the song, MAYBE, and I know that the lyrical content of that bullshit was just saying “Tupac Back” and then adding the obligatory references to violence, prison, and booze, which is all these two seem to think Tupac represented. Not only is this detestable and an abomination, it is highly disrespectful to the memory of a great man. Between the Langston Hughes inspired “Dear Mama” and the social commentary regarding teen pregnancy in “Brenda’s Got A Baby” along with many, many others, Tupac proved himself to be more than what the media portrayed him as representing. Those individuals like Delores Tucker who campaigned against hip hop and cited hip hop lyrics as representing everything that these two individuals seem to think Tupac stood for. Meek Mill and Rick Ross have no concept of who Tupac was if all they can do is say “Tupac Back” 20 times in the first minute of the fucking garbage song they have created. I typically don’t attack artists here and attempt to just give my opinion on various things; however, if anyone knows Rick Ross or Meek Mill, tell them this, they are NOT fit to hold Tupac’s used condoms. Not only is their music shoddy at best, but this latest stunt they’ve pulled referring to themselves Tupac is dog shit. Rick Ross, keep finding artists like Wale who have the lyrical capacity to make your MMG label actually decent. Meek Mill, sorry to shit on your dreams, but hip hop just ain’t for you. Everyone’s not meant to be a rapper, and this most definitely includes you. Know your limits, and keep Tupac’s name out of that pitiful mouth you spit from.

There is another insult to Tupac’s memory and body of work that has recently surfaced. When I told The Brain about it, this was called blasphemy. Besides being a hip hop legend and activist, Tupac was also a phenomenal actor. I have heard a few “movie guys” who know the craft and art of movie production and acting say that the talent Tupac displayed led them to believe that had his life not been prematurely taken from us; he could have very easily won an Academy Award. This statement was based on his appearance in the movie Juice where he played Bishop. Tupac became Bishop so fully that I believe that it was one of the contributing factors to his demise. (Think of how Heath Ledger became the Joker and it eventually killed him.) Tupac embodied this character and made us love him and hate him. Most hip hop stars don’t act very well, Tupac was the exception.

So imagine my outrage when I heard that none other than Soulja Boy will be playing Bishop in the remake of Juice. This one hit wonder is going to attempt to fill the shoes Tupac left. Fucking outrageous. I know that there is some movie producer who is saying “we need another gangster rapper for the part of Bishop like that TooPack Shakker. My daughter likes this guy Soldier Boy, what about him.” Blasphemous. I don’t know what else I can say, I’m dumbfounded. There’s been a lot of head scratching and shrugging in my attempt to figure out how the fuck this happened. Truth is, I don’t have a clue. All I know is, that type of ignorance cannot be bliss.

To me, Tupac ranks up there with Martin, Malcom, Gandhi, and Jesus. Not everyone feels this way, I realize. However, everyone needs to at the very least respect him. Meek Mill, Rick Ross, and whatever dumbass put Soulja Boy as Bishop clearly do not respect the man because if they did there is no way they would completely piss all over his name by committing the aforementioned atrocities. Someone needs to get slapped for this shit.

Gahbage.

GFUNK

GFUNK In Yo Trunk: GFUNK Is A Hater

I hate Lebron James. I hate Dewayne Wade. I hate the Velociraptor commonly referred to as Chris Bosh. I hate the Miami Heat. Lemme put it this way, if the Miami Heat played a game against the Taliban, I’d rock a shirt that said “The Taliban is my favorite!” and wear a fucking turban. Call me a hater, cause I am one.

As a passionate individual, it is impossible for me to be hate free. I love things like hip hop and art and great red wine and James Baldwin books so deeply that there is no way I can’t hate something. The goal of any creature, consciously or subconsciously, is balance. So, to love deeply, we must also hate deeply. My hate is geared at the Miami Heat, Republicans, the people who listen to country music yet quote hip hop as being misogynistic (how can you quote hip hop lyrics and claim to understand something you don’t listen too, dumbass), amongst others. If you claim to not hate something, then I’m going to punch your mother in the face and see if you don’t hate me. We’re all haters, I’m just big enough to admit it.

It seems like in hip hop these days the worst things that anyone can call you is a hater, a snitch, or gay. It may be taboo to admit this but, I can honestly say that unless I call you my fam, I’m singing like a canary if I know something. I’m not going to jail for some bitchass individual who was dumb enough to get caught. My ass is too pretty to be going to jail. I’m snitching. And you will too if it comes down to it or you’re just as dumb as the idiot that got caught. Protecting someone I barely know or protecting myself? Bitch please.

Now, let’s talk about what has become the biggest insult in America today, homosexuality. The phrase “no homo” has been around for years. People feel the need to qualify some of their remarks as being non-gay. Lil B however has shocked the hip hop community by announcing recently that his new album will be entitled “I’m Gay”. In the rest of the world, being gay isn’t as big of a deal and is often embraced. Lady Gaga has made a fortune appealing to the gay consumers in this country. As a business move, it’s brilliant. Gay people are less likely to have children, therefore they have more disposable income. Targeting a segment of the population with more money to spend is a good business move no matter who you are. Lady Gaga though is the first, in my recent memory, to actually openly target and appeal to this segment. Ok, enough about the meat wearing pop star, and back to Lil B.

I personally cannot think of a single track I’ve heard featuring or by Lil B. Maybe the Brain will inform me that I have in fact, as so frequently happens since I’m terrible with names, but as it stands, I can’t tell you a single song he’s made. However, because of just saying that he is naming his album something as shocking as “I’m Gay”, he is now on my radar, along with most of the hip hop community. While there might be plenty of people that hate on him for naming his album this, I guarantee he gets plenty of love. Eminem got publicity many years ago just for being a legitimate white rapper. Lil B names an album something that apparently has no reference to his actual sexuality and the social media implodes with the news.

I know that on recent trip to NOLA, the Brain and I had many conversations, some of which we actually remember. One that I do recall was in reference to sampling. Artists have to be careful who they sample, because in sampling a hugely popular and/or classic song, the lyrical content of the work must be fantastic. If not, while the song plays, we as hip hop lovers are going to think about the song that was sampled instead of the one that is playing. Pick a beat from a great old school song, you’ve got my attention. The question then becomes what you do with my attention that is important. If you mess around and lose my interest you will have to fight even harder to get it back.

Lil B’s marketing ploy has worked, he has my attention. I knew a guy in high school who ran for some class office and one of his posters said “SEX” in as big of letters as he could fit on the poster board. Underneath it said, now that I have your attention, will you please vote for (insert name here). Lil B wanted attention for his upcoming album, and he’s got it. I’ll listen, as will most people simply because the title is so shocking. It better be good though, because if it’s not, the title will officially be used as an insult to his album.

There will be some people who are going to give this dude some backlash for the title. They’ll hate on him and say that he must really be gay. Blah blah blah, see it for what it is people. Quit hating on a marketing scheme. Save your hate for where it is actually deserved. Specifically the Miami Heat. May the fleas of a thousand dogs infest their crotches and may this fate cause them to lose the remainder of their games.

Put that in yo trunk and thump it,
GFUNK

GFUNK In Yo Trunk: Dear Dumbasses

Hi you, you fucking dumbass. Yes you, you reading this blog right now. You are an unintelligent person who can’t possibly find any value or worth in intelligent pursuits. Go ahead, hunt me down, and come find me, if you can. I’m not going to tell you who I am, but I will tell you what I do for you, since you can’t make any intelligent decisions for yourself.

Who the fuck is the muthafucker you say? Well, you can call me “the Man” and yes I am trying to keep you down. It has been mentioned and rumored for years that my goal has been to keep you unintelligent and ignorant, and I have succeeded. I would like to take this opportunity to thank you though for making it rather easy. In fact I haven’t even had to break a sweat getting over on you so many times that I am becoming bored. However, your dumbass makes me so rich I’m going to keep fucking you as long as you let me.

Now, do me a favor, go sell some drugs or shoot each other or something else that I can be blamed for so that you constantly give me free advertising and promotions by you quoting your favorite “rapper” when you get on Twitter or Facebook or Youtube. If I’m really lucky, you’ll go to jail and do a little something in there or when you get out that will somehow lead you to my door. I get excited when I see you coming because I know that you won’t be thinking about how I’m going to fuck you because you are so hungry and desperate to “shine”.

See, I can get it from both ends. I’m the equivalent of a business bisexual. Of course, I’m on the giving end no matter whom it is that I’m fucking. Let me break my game down for you, in the simplest terms of course because we both know you are dumb. I run a record company. Let me explain how my hustle works.

First, I fuck artists. I appreciate a guy who comes to me with a talent to rhyme words and make catchy beats. I make these fellas sign contracts with me where what they produce, I own. This is the only “art form” where the artists actually willingly give away the rights to their product. I give them a few dollars here and there for their songs or albums and keep the majority of it for myself. Of course I say that the cost of production, promotion, distribution and advertising is such that I am actually coming close to breaking even. Now the good thing about this is that most of these artists believe the numbers I show them as to what my cost is, they don’t double check anything. And, what’s a joke is that they are producing the albums themselves, but I charge them for it. It’s such a great game. They put in the work, I use cheap labor to cut the records, but jack the charges up. Basic economics is a concept that isn’t lost on most of the artists who I deal with. You buy a product in bulk, chop it up, raise the cost and turn a profit. I really don’t even have to do any work to it because the artists are responsible for all the steps except the running, which in any other world gets a cut of the profit but not a huge cut. My hustle however….well, I’m rich bitch.

I know that most artists would like to believe that this is something happening unbeknownst to them, but it is in the contract and therefore right in their faces. So, that’s the first dumbass I deal with. The second, is where I actually collect my winnings for getting over. I know that the general public is too dumb to understand anything complicated or deep when they listen to music. It’s better to stick with bitches and money and cars, that’s what sold well once upon a time, so all deep thinkers need not apply. They can go produce their shit on their own, they’ll come knocking one day, best believe. So I fuck the consumers too. I take away your choices because I know that the majority of you are ghetto living boys and girls who don’t need anything that can make you understand your circumstances or push you to realize that the majority of you have a better grasp on economics and the art of the hustle which is something white people admit those black people just seem to understand so much better. If the consumers who I gear my products to would realize that I am actively keeping them from being inspired, well they’d probably be pissed.

But here’s the great thing, from the artists who make the music to the people who buy it, well, they are just too stupid to ask for what they deserve. And let’s all be honest; when pimping people, the goal is to make sure people never ask for what they deserve. You feed them shit and make them think not only did they order it but they are lucky to even be getting it. Keep making me rich fools. One of these days something will come along to wake some of you up, but you’ll be too old and not buying my shit anymore so I don’t care.

Thanks for everything rockheads,
The Man
___________________________________________________________________________________

What if this came as an insert to the albums we buy? How many people would be rushing the buildings and refusing to participate in this bullshit?

Put that in your trunk and thump it,

GFUNK

GFUNK In Yo Trunk: Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

I’m sure at some point in your life you have heard this quote:

Watch your thoughts, for they become words.
Watch your words, for they become actions.
Watch your actions, for they become habits.
Watch your habits, for they become your character.
Watch your character, for it becomes you destiny.

While there are multiple lessons to learn from these lines, I will focus on one. Specifically, the one that makes me think about hip hop (in my life, everything comes back to hip hop…everything.) This is where the idea of the self-fulfilling Prophecy comes into play (which is also quite philosophical).

Hip hop artists are by far some of the best examples of people who voice what they desire and what they want into existence. Case in point, most novice rappers do not have million dollar chains or the fastest cars on the road. Most of them are just hustling trying to get those things by whatever means possible. However, if you listen to the majority of their songs, they make you believe that they already have them. Truth is, neither you nor I would like to listen to an album whose subject matter is the ten year old car they’re driving, the one bedroom apartment they live in with a kitchen that is too small to cook anything in, how they are working a dead end job to pay the bills until they can get out and do what they want (the exception is Kanye’s Spaceship…I love that joint), or any multitude of subjects that reflect their real life situation instead of the one that they are perpetuating to the public. However, that does not stop them from speaking in the present tense on their albums, where they say they’ve got all the things that in truth are on still their wish lists of things to come when they finally blow (I’m sick o’yall niggas with ya now or later raps/Rap about it now, hope you get it later).

XXL had an article many years ago about how TI claimed he was the King of the South pretty much immediately coming on the national scene. However, he was not the King of the South. Fact is, until his national debut, I (a Southerner) had never heard of the dude. If you asked me to name 10 Southern rappers, he would not have even been mentioned. However, he proclaimed himself as such, and his words became his destiny (well, until now that is). He wanted to be the biggest rapper in the south, so he just said he was. Eventually, people believed him and it seemed that he actually did became what he claimed. This is the beautiful part of the quote above. Your words have the potential to become your destiny. So if you say what you want, you have the potential of eventually realizing the dreams.

But like everything in the world, there is a dark side waiting. Sometimes, the words that you say do not have anything to do with being great, loved, or rich. Sometimes the words are a bit darker, a bit more menacing, and unfortunately they too can become your destiny. There are two examples that stick out to me in this regard. One from damn near 15 years ago, and one from last week.

The first is of course, Tupac. Not many people who are casual observers or fans of the man realize the depth and irony of his story. Lucky for you though, I am not the casual observer. His story is multi-faceted with plenty of examples of how he spoke his destiny into existence. Take into account that his troubles with the authorities started after his rap career began, not before. The facts of that situation are fascinating (but too long to discuss here, maybe I’ll talk about this in another blog).

I think most notably Tupac’s words becoming real is his predictions of his demise. Through multiple songs and poems, Tupac talks about his death. For some people, those who didn’t want to believe he was actually dead, these words were used as evidence to him faking his own death because of how closely his words mirrored what actually occurred. He spoke of dying in quiet and not with screams around him although he frequently spoke of being shot. The truth ended up exactly this. He was shot, on my 16th birthday in fact, and died quietly in a hospital bed nearly a week later. Some people, myself included, have called him a prophet. In Greek, the word prophecy means “to speak forth” where the prophet is the person who actually “speaks forth”. Tupac spoke of his leaving this earth after a rain of bullets, and it was fulfilled. Here again, his words became his destiny.

The more recent example of this is Mr. Wyclef Jean, former member of the Fugees and current Haitian presidential candidate. What is interesting to me here, and something that I have not heard mentioned in the wake of his recent shooting, is his performance on The Chappell Show. On this show, Wyclef performed his song If I Were President which gives his account of what would happen should he be elected. While the title may give you the impression that the track will give us his personal plan for solving a country’s woes, in actuality, the song lists how he would be elected one day, assassinated the next, and buried shortly their after. He says that should he ever become the man in power, his power would last about a week. This concept of great men ascending to power only to have the power taken away by someone is not only the plot of fictions. It has been played out many times in the history of this world.

Wyclef spoke of what would happen should he become president. While he was simply on the campaign trail someone attempted to make this prophecy a reality. While it has been reported that Wyclef was not actually shot and the wounds that he sustained were not the result of a bullet but rather a cut sustained in the attack, I must point out here that whether or not the assassination attempt was successful, there was still an attempt on his life. The person wasn’t trying to scare Wyclef into cutting his hand, this person was trying to kill him. Wyclef predicted this would happen, and it did.

The point of this is the following, we think and put these thoughts out into the world now more than ever. Social media networks like Facebook and Twitter allow us to interact with a far greater audience. Be careful what you say and think, because what if you were given everything you ever said. While some of us would have money, cars and hoes, we might also have those millions of haters and problems we claim to already have.

Put that in your trunk and thump it,
GFUNK.

GFUNK In Yo Trunk: The Art Of Storytelling

I recently heard someone say that there are only so many ways for hip hop artists to talk about money, cars, and women and, consequently, isn’t it time for artists to pick another topic to talk about? I could not agree more. Don’t get me wrong - I still love my money, cars and bitches music (I think if a hip-hop head denied this then he/she would be a liar). However, while listening to Excuse Me Miss by Jay Z and Pharrell the other day, I could not help but get sucked in to the music and think about this a little more.

Jay-Z is one of the greats at storytelling, and does not just rhyme for the sake of making money and/or selling records without attention to the detail of his wordplay. Compare him to someone like Lil Wayne. Now before you put a hit out on my unborn children for hating on Wayne, let me clarify, I am not. I love Wayne, I do. I own the majority of his catalog. Mixtapes and albums alike. The only person I know who does in fact own more is, of course, The Brain who, as a native of New Orleans, was able to get his locally released music before digital music took over.
With that little confirmation of my appreciation of Wayne being said, let me say this. Yes, sometimes he says crazy, off-the-wall shit that does not make any sense. Lines like:

Swagger tighter than a yeast infection/
Fly, go hard like geese erection...
Or this one:
I leave her pussy Microsoft/
Like Windows Vista.

Or even better yet:

When I was 5 my favorite movie was The Gremlins/
Ain't got shit to do with this but just thought I'd mention.

I don’t know about you but I can tell when he is deep in his Styrofoam cup and fucked up to the point that he has a stream of consciousness rap comprised of nonsense (yeast infection swag….really???) along with his classic in your face, tongue in cheek lines. It takes intelligence to put it all together, and I am not taking that away from him. I also understand that all hip hop artists are not alike and that the artist has to create a product they feel comfortable with, at the same time producing something that the public at large wants to hear.

Hov said it best on Moment of Clarity:

If skills sold, truth be told/
I’d probably be, lyrically, Talib Kweli/
Truthfully, I wanna rhyme like Common Sense (But I did five mil)/
I ain’t been rhyming like Common since.

The entire second verse describes what the music business is and how it affected him as an artist. In the end, he had to say fuck perception and go with what made sense to him as the artist. As the first interviewed on Oprah’s (how did she end up here?) Master Class, he attributed his success in the music business and in the business world as a whole to staying true to who he is as a person, amongst other things. Rather than following what everyone else was doing, he forged his own path and opted to approach things in his own way, based on what was right for him.
Jay did not pattern himself after anyone. He did not make himself a cookie cutter rapper that went through the warehouse and picked one fast car, one chain, one video hoe, one catchy beat, and one drug reference to build his career on. While there are of course money references, car references, and hoe references, Hov never sacrificed the art that hip hop was built on (specifically storytelling) to make his way.

There are countless artists who have able to take the now popular references of money, cars, or women and incorporate them not just into the bars of the song but the plot of a story found in those bars. Excuse Me Miss is evidence to this fact. Jay must have been inspired by Slick Rick, the master storyteller himself, and somehow along the way the inspiration the greats like Jay or Slick Rick gave to the young heads coming up must have died.

How did hip-hop evolve into primarily one-liners? I miss the days of the story and more importantly, I miss the days of the storyteller.
Put that in your trunk and thump it,

GFUNK

GFUNK In Yo Trunk: Dear Lauryn

Dear Lauryn,

I’m sorry for not calling you Ms. Hill like everyone else. The thing is, though, I kinda grew up with you so I’m one of those people who feels like I know you. You were there with me through some of the strangest parts of my life, some of the most violent, some of the most frightening, and your voice got me through them. I felt comforted and my emotions (whatever they may have been) were assuaged just by hearing your voice. I can distinctly remember putting The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill on repeat and listening to it for hours. Something about that song is so honest and raw that I felt as if whatever pain I was feeling, whatever stress my soul was under, somehow things would get better. I know that each and every one of your fans has a place in their heart for you that will always remain sacred, regardless if you ever put out another album. True love doesn’t go away in times of absence. Rather, it has been said that absence makes the heart grow fonder.
I heard today that Pink Friday surpassed your Miseducation album for consecutive weeks in the Top 10. I was immediately angry. I do not know why hearing this caused me to feel this way, but I was immediately pissed at Nicki, and I don’t even know her. In fact, I own her album so I can’t call myself a hater. I just know that Pink Friday, for as good of a debut showing as it has become, is quite obviously not anywhere close to Miseducation. I know this (I’m sure Nicki would agree) and true hip hop heads do too. I think it hurts for several reasons, but primarily because I am saddened and I realize you could say it better than I am able to.

I look at my environment/ And wonder where the fire went/What happened to everything we used to be.

You see, hip hop, when you were an active player and game changer it was something to behold. Now though, occasionally an album comes out and fans can say, yeah, it’s pretty good. Yet it is rarely great, and never so in comparison to the music that you managed to create. There was something special about the sound back then. That unfortunately is not the case anymore. Not when I think about it and not when I think about you.

Those of us that have loved hip hop now for so long that it seems like we are somehow related to the music know that while the music now is alright, it isn’t anything great. When I told The Brain that Pink Friday somehow surpassed Miseducation in any way I said that it proves that people today do not know good hip hop. The Brain believes that it proves that those who do know the music have given up. This is why I am sad. I’m not mad at Nicki Minaj because she isn’t to blame. I’m mad at hip hop heads who have given up and I’m mad at the industry for encouraging the highly creative individuals to somehow dumb down their craft so that it can make them more money.

For my birthday this year, I took a trip to Rock the Bells in Los Angeles so that I could experience a tribute to classic hip hop, and, because I wanted to see you in person performing. You were beautiful and your performance was incredible. You told your musicians what you wanted when you wanted it. You cared about your performance and the direction of it was something you actively participated in. I turned into a bitch when you came on stage. I’m not typically someone who gets starstruck or someone who is highly impressed with the famous, because they are just like me, breathing, thinking, eating, sleeping, loving, and alive. You though, you are different. You evoke emotions in the faithful that somehow cause us to relive moments and be relieved in others.

I thought that I should take this opportunity today to share with you, not that I think you’ll actually read it, but through the energy that will be created from merely writing these words in this universe, that regardless of what the current state of the music is, regardless of where it is going, there are those of us who haven’t given up. The Brain is right that there are many who have, and some more will join them, however, even those who have given up have only done so because they know, without you and artists of your caliber, the music is lacking like the body mass of a severe anorexic.

I am crossing my fingers in hopes that your recent concert circuit signifies good things to come from you in the future. Regardless of if the poppy loving music lovers out there, this hip hop head will joyfully celebrate that day. Maybe then you can take your place back on top of the music charts where you belong.
You, Ms. Hill, are still loved.

GFUNK

Be sure to follow @gfunkinyotrunk

GFUNK In Yo Trunk: Love Of The Green

For those who do not know, I am an avid sports fan, amongst other things. I appreciate how during the course of a game, sport is an example of a perfect society. It doesn’t matter who you are - a professional or a kid playing in a summer league, a starter or reserve so far down on the depth chart you only see the field during warm-ups - the rules are the rules. They do not change from day to day, but remain the same. The rules are a constant.

The perfect society analogy comes in when you include the participants, the rules, and the refs. Everyone involved understands not just what the rules are, but also the punishment for being caught breaking those rules. Take a couple of steps without dribbling the basketball, that’s traveling. Your punishment for breaking this rule is immediately forfeiting the possession thereby turning the ball over to the other team. Sports are not like the “real world” where someone can say you did something that no one else saw and you have to defend your name. The punishments aren’t ever something that can be negotiated. The rules and the punishments for infractions are understood before the game ever begins. In my opinion, the equality and fairness of sports dictates something that the rest of the world can learn from.

With that said, I recently watched an ESPN program entitled 30 for 30. This particular episode was a one hour documentary of sorts on Ricky Williams, the infamous running back, pothead, and escape artist. I thought that I knew everything worth knowing about this man. I thought I understood that he loved the foliage and smoked it when he wanted to. Stubbornly, he continued to smoke even though he repeatedly failed drug test after drug test and received suspensions from the NFL on more than one occasion. He has retired, returned, left, come back, quit, come back, gone to Canada and played there, and came back again. I thought he was someone who loved herb more than football, and that he was probably one of the most self-sabotaging individuals in recent football memory. However, after watching the 30 for 30 segment, I realized that like everything else the media touches, I did not really know the truth.

This man is highly enlightened (no pun intended). He seems to have an understanding of life better than just about any athlete I have ever heard speak. Everyone thought he was a fool when (straight out of college) he solicited Master P, the infamous ice cream man, to represent him during his contract negotiations with the New Orleans Saints. The deal, which some found laughable, was primarily incentive based. In other words, in order for him to be paid the majority of the money he could earn he had to produce specific things for the team. The contract contained clauses that dictated how many yards he would need to rush (not a small number at all) and in turn, how much he would be paid for rushing those yards. He would have to put up big numbers in order to get paid big bucks. The media laughs at him for being so arrogant and simultaneously ignorant as to think he could produce numbers as a rookie that would rival the numbers of other great athletes in the prime of their careers. His response to why he did that (discussed during the segment) was that he did not want to be a man who did not earn his living. He did not want to be a man who had money handed to him if he did not perform. The media never mentions that part. For that, I found Ricky Williams the opposite of arrogant. In fact, I think his attitude about his trade is admirable.

He could have made $30 million dollars over the course of his career had he not run into so much self-created adversity. However, he does not apologize for not doing so. His outlook on life is not one of chasing after the money; he’s more interested in living up to his potential. He was quoted once as saying that he’d come back and play for free. For this too, the media has laughed at and mocked him, but his response is that his motivation should not be the almighty dollar but, rather, to be the best running back he could possibly be. His motivation was doing the best he could regardless of what anyone else thought of him or how much he was being paid. He was doing it for himself. This is why I find him so enlightened. He does not follow the path that society has said he must follow in order to be successful.

The popular ideal in America is to somehow live the “American Dream.” Capitalism has created a society in which we are raised and conditioned to believe that getting rich is the ultimate goal. Forget who you are as a person. Forget the necessary sacrifices to attain this dream. Your goal in life is to somehow chase the paper and catch it. We have bought into this ideal (myself included) so wholeheartedly that we never stop to ask ourselves what are we really putting in to something. How much are you actually sacrificing for the hope that one day you’ll make it big? Now, I know that this is a hip hop blog, so what does all this have to do with hip hop?

Recently Curren$y inked a deal with Warner Records. He stated on Twitter that in order to “look the monsters in the eye and subsequently cut off their heads” he needed to “leave is lair”, which is of course reference to the fact that he needed to leave the “underground” hip hop scene. I can respect someone doing his/her best to climb up through the ranks. However, my worry and fear comes from the fact that before this signing was confirmed by Curren$y, The Brain and I had a conversation. Warner was called “where artists go to die” because of their reputation of signing hip hop musicians yet never releasing any of their albums. Since the artist is under contract with the label they are not allowed to self release any music. If their work is to ever see the light of day and grace our waiting ears, the label has to be the one to give it the green light. I am a huge Curren$y fan and would seriously hate to lose what I consider to be a valued member of the culture. If he falls victim to the fates of other Warner hip hop artists it will truly be a loss. Regardless, he acted in a way that he feels is best for him, so I will continue to support him.

I still think of Ricky Williams, though. The man found demons when he started running for the money instead of just running for the end zone. The man caught hate in the media when he refused to join the ranks of the capitalists in the NFL. I sometimes think that if you are to be successful in this world, whether in hip-hop, sports or any other industry, there is no choice but to turn your back on the money and the greed that makes a few chosen white men rich and instead work for yourself. The reasoning for this belief is exemplified in a T shirt I saw once that said “hip-hop is the new cotton.” At first I was like WTF, then I realized how true it actually is. White men (slave masters) control the company (plantation) where black men break their backs (the artists) to only end up with pennies of what they produced is worth. The people truly getting rich are never the ones actually creating the product just like the ones getting exceptionally wealthy aren’t the ones running the football.

Ricky Williams was chastised by the media for refusing to play their game. He ended up an outcast when he voiced his distaste for the new rules imposed on an old game and turned his back. The same ones that love you when you’re on top will inevitably attempt to fuck you in the ass with a sandpaper condom when you somehow do not do what they desire (do the thing that makes them rich). It’s a dirty world we live in. I wish Curren$y the very best of luck and wish nothing but prosperous times in his future. He likely will not necessarily run into the same problems as Ricky Williams, seeing as how there is no drug testing policy in hip-hop. Curren$y’s well publicized love of the green is up there with my love of breathing. However, when money comes into the picture, especially big money, I must defer to Biggie on this one with his assertion of “Mo Money, Mo Problems”.

Just a little food for thought.

Put that in your trunk and thump it,

GFUNK.

Be sure to follow @gfunkinyotrunk

GFUNK In Yo Trunk: Forgot About Dre

We have solicited the opinion of our close friend and fellow head, GFUNK, in an effort to kick the hornets nest that is hip-hop. Presented on Wednesdays, keep an eye out for future editions. Until then, scroll down to read the first installment Forgot About Dre.

Be sure to follow @gfunkinyotrunk

Hip hop is by far one of the most beautiful, gut wrenching, ugly, wonderful, real, fake, majestic things I’ve ever had the honor of encountering. When’s the last time you actually and realistically thought about what the music means to you instead of talking about what the newest music means to hip hop? It’s easy to take something that you’ve become so accustomed to having around and discuss and dissect it, think about it, talk about it, read about it or just listen to it. It’s hip hop. It’s music. It’s wonderful.

For those hip hop heads out there who have been around for some time, tell me where you were when you heard Big Pun died. Tell me where you were when you heard that Biggie died. Tell me where you were when Tupac was shot…when he too died. Tell me when you fell in love with the music. I can remember listening to Tupac’s Life Goes On while drinking Red Kool-Aid and just feeling something more than I had ever felt from music. It hit me in my chest and my gut and my head. I loved it. Now this wasn’t the first hip hop song I had ever heard, wasn’t even close. I had been listening to the music for some time. But that is a distinctive memory I have about this art form that I reminisce on from time to time.

I remember when Ain’t Nuthin But A G Thang dropped. I remember the video with that cute little boy boppin. I remember how Dr. Dre represented everything that was right about this thing I had come to love. I remember when he performed Forgot About Dre on SNL with Eminem several years later and he seemed to be spitting in the face of everyone, as if to say, “Yeah fools, I’m not done.” I remember the chills that I got watching, then realizing that Dre was a fucking genius and that Eminem had better breath control on stage than just about everyone performing. I loved it.
Now, tell me this: how much would you pay to buy a Tupac album from the man he would be now if he had not been taken away? Think about it. Tupac lived. He grew past 25 years old. The genius that he was…it developed. Tell me how much you would pay today to buy a current album from Biggie. He didn’t pass that day in March of 1997, but instead he lived. Fast forward almost 14 years to today. If an album came out, how excited would you be? Ask yourself the same, but substitute Big Pun. I do not know anyone who would nonchalantly say, “Oh, it’s been too long.” “Who’s waiting on that? Is anyone still waiting on that?” If you can honestly say that you would not stand in line all day and night for a fucking month just to hear what an older, wiser, and more experienced Tupac, Biggie or Pun would say, then I say you are not a true fan of this art.

With that being said, Dr. Dre has been making promises to release Detox for a while now. Drop dates have been scheduled and rescheduled like the date on a wedding invitation that never happened. It has been said that he would release an album, and some of us got excited. Now, here we are again. This time, though, is different. There has been two singles released. One of those singles, “Kush”, has a video. The other one was released yesterday entitled “I Need a Doctor”. A version of this song was leaked a few months ago, albeit an unmastered version to which Dre said not to listen. I did not listen to it until he officially released it because I didn’t want to hear a version of a song not bearing his stamp of approval. Now it has been released some 4 months later, showing that he takes his time with his songs.

Back to Detox. This time, there is progress. But, there are people out there saying, who cares?!?!? How fucking dare you? This man was the contemporary of giants, consider his resume if you disagree. He was there when Snoop released his best music to date, specifically Doggystyle. He was there when Tupac was Tupac. He was a member of NWA for crying out loud. NWA started west coast “gangsta rap” which has altered the course of hip hop as we know it. Dr. Dre just wasn’t a contemporary of giants, he was a giant himself. Who cares if it’s been 10 years? This man was a trendsetter when hip hop was a toddler. What makes anyone think that simply because he has not proven to us over recent years that he hasn’t somehow lost it, that he is still Dre, that he might not be able to meet the level of the hip hop we have become accustomed to recently? We have a genius still in our midst. He wasn’t taken away from us prematurely and permanently by violence or fate. He simply went back behind the board and decided to do something else for us, like bring us the Aftermath Record Label. He doesn’t owe hip hop fans an album to prove that he’s still got it. He’s Dre. We owe him a little bit more respect and (to treat him like the genius he is) respect his timeframe instead of being pissed off or disappointed that he hasn’t given us what we wanted in a timely manner like petulant fucking children.

Artists work on their own timetables. I don’t mean musicians, I mean those artists like Monet, Warhol, and Basquiat. They are not in control of their creativity, their creativity is in control of them. They are forced to pick up a brush or a pen and paint or draw or sketch. They have to feel that something is finished. We, as art lovers, would not dare tell Michelangelo that “The David” was fine the way it is before he finished it, demand to see it so we can dissect it and critique it, and then judge him on it before he said it was done.

Have any of you naysayers even stopped to consider that when we judge albums, and we definitely judge albums privately and publicly (XXL has a rating system of S, M, L, XL, and XXL and Vibe has their mics instead of stars rating), we are judging the artist on the content of their work. Some guys are rappers because they decided to hustle rhymes instead of other things; and, they couldn’t care less about the content of their work because they are only out for the money that comes with this territory. Dr. Dre is not that guy. He is an artist who values his body of work as any true “artist” would, again, not like poppy ass musicians but true artists. “I Need a Doctor” just proves I’m right.

We as fans bitch about the lack of quality music, yet spit in the face of a giant and genius who doesn’t want to add to the problem but wants to give us fans an album that is brilliant and well put together, an album that he himself as the artist and genius can sign off on. Sure, maybe the release dates have come and gone. Sure, maybe we’ve gotten excited only to be let down giving us hip hop blue balls. Still, this time, it’s obviously different.

So, for those of you asking is anyone still waiting on Detox, my answer is you’re fucking right I am. My question is, as a true hip hop head, why the fuck aren’t you?

Put that in your trunk and thump it,

GFUNK.