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Wednesday, May 5, 2010


The streets always been my daddy
And mommy is the county jail
I'm a soldier and I'm about my mail
If I get busted I'm not about to tell
Because I'm a gangster
The streets always been my daddy
And mommy is the county jail
I'm a solider and I'm about my mail
I ain't trying to do right because I'm already living in hell
Because I'm a gangster

-"Soldier Story", Artist: Scarface feat. Z-Ro and The Product, ALBUM: Emeritus (2008)

Words are beautiful...

Beautiful because they are open to many interpretations.

The song that was quoted is one of my favorites. Well put together song with lyrics that seemed to come from a place close to each rapper's heart and a slow contemplative melody. What really stands out to me in this song is the chorus, sung by Texas rapper Z-Ro (Trae's cousin). I first interpreted as a statement of the things that were standard of the place where they grew up. Recently I've heard it and it sounds like a cry of someone who feel stuck in what is status quo in that particular area. This put me in mind of a piece I had written called "Harlequin Be Harlot" which a young woman ends up trapped in a role her mother had been known for and how it shapes her. Hope you enjoy this one.

(Big booty Betty
Givin’ out all her spaghetti)

At the feet of aging whore
Learning ways to weaken boys and men
Pure young woman birthed
Off a random encounter
Of the third kind
Third time together, those two
When customers bail out from duty
So little lady grew in moaning shadows
Hiding by doors hearing squeaky mattresses
Worn in constant use, again and again
Dollars add as the numbers do same ways
When their flow is constant
After twenty-fours and sevens
Never there dear mama
Back arching labor easing the apparent pain
Doing nothing for girl child lonely
Resentment thrived in solo soul
Hating the very essence of maternal exist
Vowing to be better, to transcend reputation of
That slut of a mother, people say
Yet trying the words hold down dreams
The surrounding crabs pulling down dearest
Only good on backs, like momma
Until it engrained like harsh reality
And sweet girl looked to follow in footsteps
On the same stroll worked by birth giver
Until age of innocence died earlier than hoped
There at twelve when harlequin be harlot

(Big booty Betty
Givin’ out all her spaghetti)

Grew into a body of Godiva
Smooth and tasty perfect except for
The habit inherited
Perfect sways at hips, ass
Stole many in the teeming halls
Of high school without any musical
Modern Helen
Bringing the destructions of Troy
And Marcus, even Michael
A whispering eye
Ruining city-states often
As with goddess protectorate
In a repetitive process
Surpassing mommy’s numbers
Preserving the legacy
Of best laid plans
Temple defiled by those
Allowed usurpers
Called Babylon by many Nebuchadnezzar
Until modern day when eyes glanced
The last decent sort remaining
Hoping to steal virtue as many before
And add man to the body count
Letting another enter deep for the murder
But differently not for pleasure or even to just see
Surely boy piques interest to point of liking
Ye this is meant to kill aurora, sweet Aurora
Cold planned spite, plainly simple

(Big booty Betty
Givin’ out all her spaghetti)