Today we honor the only three things a Black man can hope to find success in growing up in the hood… Basketball, Record Deals, and Crack sells. Who in the hell do we think we are fooling? Let’s be real, when was the last time you saw a 12-year-old Black kid say when he grows up he wants to be a CPA… NEVER! Balla, Rappa, Hustla… IN THAT ORDER! The only things celebrated on BET.
Hey you gotta get paid somehow, until there is a government program giving out free Nike’s a brotha has to figure out how to make that gwop (that is ‘street’ for money to all my Republican friends and anyone that is over the age 25 and does not work with kids all damn day). In the words of the Notorious B.I.G. ‘either you slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot’. Because the dream is the life, you don’t care how you get the money to afford the life as long as you get to live it.
Ball players, rappers, and drug dealers tend to run in the same circles even if on different levels. The NBA player’s money is guaranteed, when the 6’7” guy that averaged 18.3 points, 5.5 assists, and 4.5 rebounds over the last 3 years signs a 4-year $38 million dollar contract, he will see all 38 of them milli’s! The rapper may get a half a million advance but if you don’t like his songs he doesn’t go on tour. The rapper gets paid from performing; only a few guys in hip-hop are really making money when a rapper gets a show he is guaranteed to make money that night. For the crack dealer, ain’t a damn thing guaranteed.
So the ball players throw the party and hire the rappers to perform at the party so they get to hang out. The crack dealer can afford to buy tickets and a VIP table to the ball players party… if they don’t get pulled over by the Feds on their way to the party, ain’t a nothing guaranteed for him not even a 15 minute drive downtown. The crack dealer can usually crack the inner circle of the balla and the rapper by, getting weed to the ball player (dude’s in the L smoke a lot of weed, trust me on this one), bringing X-pills for the trifling broads hanging out so they now have something to blame the freaky things they were going to do anyway on. A gram or two of coke for the rapper… yep coke, when you see a rapper smoking a joint it is because he has an interview on TV or morning radio in ten minutes and needs to come down from the coke he was tootin’ that boy all night long.
Hood stars, the guys in the hood that get all the attention. The basketball player gets the girls he got grown women in the 10th grade, the dope man has a FINE girl the only thing he is guaranteed, and the rapper… well they get a girl once they get a contract. The life is about the women, you need the clothes, cars, and jewelry to attract the women. You need the money to get the clothes, cars, jewelry and to keep the women. So when you see basketball player that does not get drafted and has no other options because he never learned to read, when you see a guy with an incredible flow but unfortunately he turned 30 before he could sign his name to a record deal, and when you see a drug dealer’s laid out in the middle of street unrecognizable from the 39 bullets to his upper body… blame women.
So on this the 26th day in February, the day the NBA is having their All Star game (you thought it was a coincidence the NBA had this event in February? Oh no, this is event on the Black Calendar… I once heard someone say “it’s more nigga’s at NBA All-Star weekend than in college”) we salute the 3 things that you see most during All-Star weekend, basketball players, rappers, and dope dealers. Unfortunately you also saw a lot of boring dunks this year, but that is NOT the fault of women. Happy Black History Month to hopes and dreams as limited as they may be.