I lied.
Looks like the enthusiasm of hustler genes revisited conglomerated in my being will have me talk about something a little bit more, meaning I’m finna (i'm country) talk about loot again, and its accumulation there of, in ways that impose upon thinking and personal communal responsibility.
And communal responsibility being that which shows no harm, that which elevates and drop that hammer of
beneficence on a (I wont say).
And as I said before, me and mine, folk that is, is a tight set. I mean especially the Memphis Cats, Morehouse Alum, or fellow pay your own self folk. Whether they be white black, Jew, Christian or what have you. See we are protective, and basically know that we are few in number as the knights of Templar or the Dogon Priest that protected the temples (libraries) of Timbuktu.
We extend our selves in life to extend the olive branch first as opposed to extending a weapon of calamity such as the Axe (my preference followed by hammers). As such we are protective of one another as bonded by our personal obligation to our community, family being first.
With that said, my folk from the crib and who attended Morehouse with me stopped by my shop. Heard from him recently when he left a comment on my post GIVING WINGS TO ANGELS. We greeted, drank, chiefed and talked.
First I never realized how many folks watched the WIRE, and how one video clip that he described to me of a cat executing jones in his store, could get folks so upset. Me never seen the show. Second, never new how much love so many folk had for folk here. He said I was like “Malcolm X King Jr.” and that I was a rare breed and that kats from the crib and especially Morehouse wasn’t gone be with Petsmart no more but that they were “T-smart” now. He peeped the spot and said I was like the dope man and had the corner on lock and that cat’s aint on thinking like this. He also dropped 200 plus on food and clothes and in particular an 85$ hand-made studded collar.
As we talked, before he left the convo went something like this.
Folk: “Jones, you hit it mane, this the lick. You got the perfect place and you got the corner on lock, you like the Omar of the dog world.”
Me: “Straight, good look folk – Bald fist dap.”
Folk: Jones, you the Omar of the dog world, except you got no comp.”
Me: Laughing.
Folk: Jones, we got your back, let the haters hate; they don’t know how we get down. You got me to hit them books. I’ve been in business for myself for 9 yrs now.”
Me: “I see like that Black range Rover.”
Folk: For real though Jones, cause I live in Marietta, I’m coming back, and you serving free wine, don’t need no Liquor License for that. A head of the game folk.
Me: Brain cells jones.”
Folk: I’m coming back, hold it down, Omar – can you dig it?”
Me: Stood up, put gat in back of my pants, Bald fist dap. “Alright Love, good look folk.”
Folk: “high post bruh, higher than most”
Me: “Think about it, Special Ed.”
He made me smiled. So fellows, represent. If I succeed u succeed. If I fail, you fail. Let’s hold hands, talk to each other and put it on the table. Let’s hold down the fort and make certain that we all eat, that we all provide and that we all give. Let’s handle ours first, in our homes in our schools, PTA’s and take control of what is really real – and aint talking reality TV, lottery tickets or the NBA finals (but ‘m down with that too).
And I aint just talking to the African American men, You white men (in the case of buelah man a self professed redneck-lol), Asians, Africans, Caribbean’s or what have you. Let us represent as men folk. Let us show government and big business America is not one spelled with three Ks in substitution of the C, but a stalwart for family, family rule, and that neighborhoods rock – dude.