Every Labor Day millions of people descend on my neighborhood to celebrate the Caribbean tradition of Carnival.
Between the music, the costumes, the food and the all-around good time, it’s easy to forget that Labor Day is a moment of reflection — one day out of 365 — in which we recognize how much we owe to those that came before us, those that stand beside us and those to whom the debt of our labors is passed on.
Of course there are official Labor Day parades in most cities and towns which celebrate the achievements and contributions of working people. But there are others — mothers, fathers, relatives, friends and neighbors — who bear the weight of carrying forward the social and cultural values that invisibly shape so much of our daily lives.
Creating and raising a family — no matter how you define it, whether it be inherited or selected — is work. There is no parents’ union to collect dues and make sure the love, care, attention, hope, faith and hard work that is put into the next generation pays off. There is also no question that someone, somewhere, cared enough about you and your future to invest in your wellbeing. If there were no such person, you would not be reading this blog right now, nor would I be writing it.
So I encourage everyone to make the time — today, or tomorrow, but don’t wait too long — to let the people who nurture, support, feed, and care for you know that you appreciate their presence in your life and value their labor.
It’s amazing how often we forget to say thank you, and how much it means when we do.
Editor’s note: [||] to this entire drop from GABEROCKKA.
Fellas… Have you ever seen a line of womens clothes, that were so dope, so fresh, so well designed that it almost made you wish you were a chick just so you could rock it and be the best dressed female around? No? Uhhh… Me neither.
Hellz Bellz always just seemed like a clothing line that had pictures of guns made out of bananas, and Minny Mouse wearing a bandanna. Recently I started seeing a new girl. She’s not into streetwear per se, but she loves the way I dress and seems really eager to go shopping with me and see what kind of womens wear can be found at the stores in which I shop. Liking the idea of having a girl I could both have sex with AND talk about clothes with, I started doing some research on womens streetwear lines. Married to the Mob didn’t really do much for me, and Hellz Bellz is the only other womens streetwear company I know, so I checked out the Hellz Bellz website, and their Fall collection is the truth (for females).
They’ve grown up out of the strictly tee’s phase of their development, and some of their new pieces show a real sophistication and maturing in terms of their designs. These are some clothes I would love to see on the floor next to my girls bed. Hell, I might even be weary of ripping them off and throwing them across the room like I normally do with her clothes. Picture me getting up out of bed in the heat of passion to hang my girls shirt up in the closet… That right there is some heat for them ass cheeks. And Jay-Z stays winning.
I don’t want to make any powerful enemies in the NYC sneakerhead scene, so I’d like to preface this drop by saying that I realize and acknowledge that DQM is one of the most respected sneaker boutiques in New York City, and the U.S. My experience was just one experience, of one person, on one day, and is in no way meant to me a thorough review of the store. Dave’s Quality Meat is referred to in sneaker collecting circles as DQM and they came to prominence after a collaboration with Nike on a pair of Air Max 90’s. These joints are affectionately known as the DQM Bacons. A pair of these will run you several hundred bucks so don’t even think about it. When Nike debuted the ‘One Time Only’ package I copped the Air Max 95/360’s that matched the Bacon’s colorways.
Thursday is payday, and for a fiend like me, that means Thursday is copp some new gear day. I made a plan to meet up with Dallas after work so we could hit up DQM, as neither of us had ever been there. I wanted to go in the store with a purpose, so I checked their website to browse their stock and pick the kicks I was going to cop. I narrowed it down to two that were both marked as in stock on their site; the Air Max 90/360 hybrid in the Black Lava/Midnight Fog/Chlorine Blue colorway, and the new P-Rod/Free 5.0 hybrid being referred to as the ‘Free-Rod’.
Dallas was chilling at a free concert at City Hall Park so I got to the store before him and did my rounds. The first thing I noticed was that the Free-Rod was not up on the shelves, so I asked the guy behind the cash register if they had them. “We don’t have em” was his curt response. Now these shoes were added to their website two days ago, and if you go to their site, on the first page is a picture of these sneakers marked ‘Recently Added’, so I felt that it was a valid question for me to ask whether they had just not received their shipment yet, or if they were sold out. He looked at me like I had just asked him the stupidest question he had ever heard, and half mumbled “sold out”. Okay, so they didn’t have my first choice, but now let me look for the AM 90/360’s. These were also not on the shelves, so I went back to the cash register counter and I said, “there was also a pair of Air Max 90/360 Hybrids up on your site…” He rudely interrupted me, “Look, if it’s not on the shelves that means we don’t have it, okay?”
He was a dick, plain and simple. Reading about DQM in the past, one of the aspects of the store that their loyal supporters gushed about was how friendly the staff were, and how there was none of that elitist ‘we’re too cool to need your business’ attitude you experience at sneaker and streetwear boutiques, record shops, and other places where the staff act like they’re better than you because they earn minimum wage at a really “cool” store. I did not find this to be true at all. On the contrary, the guy that I dealt with there was acting like such a rude elitist prick, that it almost seemed like he was trying to scare away potential customers who were n00b-ish enough to dare to ask if they had something in stock.
What did they have in stock? Well they did NOT have the Free-Rod’s or AM 90/360’s their site claimed were in stock. They also did not have the AM 90 ‘Wheat Skulls’, AM 90 ‘Elmers Glue’, The ‘Nikebook’ dunk hi’s, or the ‘Navy/Neon/Silver’ AM 90’s – all of which are listed as in stock on their website. They had a shit load of Vans, a ton of Nike SB Blazers, some of the less appealing/less desirable colorways of dunk hi’s. As far as Air Max’s go, they had all of the recent crop of ugly colorway Air Max 1’s, the Major Taylor 90’s, and those busted white 90’s with the square polka dots. Not all that much else.
I left empty-handed, and feeling like unless they release another Tier 0 joint like the Bacon, I can’t imagine that I would have a reason to go there again. I guess it’s a good place to get Quickstrike Nike’s, but I would never go off information on their website again, and I hope that the staff is not usually as rude as the guy I encountered.
DQM Store Review
Pros(+): Quickstrike account with Nike, eclectic selection
Cons(-): Unreliable website info, rude staff, couldn’t find a single pair of kicks in the whole store that I would wear.
I need to get my ass out to L.A. to get with the crew from COSTA’S WORLD. heir internets radio show is wild fun. They discuss everything from love, politics and why R. KELLY might be the Black Messiah.
Next weekend will be the second year anniversary party for the radio revolutionaries. I’m asking anyone in L.A. to definitely fall through this event and everyone else should take a listen to the COSTAS’ WORLD programming. Hopefully one day we can see some of the COSTA’S WORLD gang on Black Entertainment Television, or something even bigger.
Editor’s note: With the help of the Oh Word designed OHHLA database, 40 Dawg submits the lyrics from what is arguably the greatest rap song in the history of microphone recordings.
Rock The Bells (1986)
Rumor has it that you’re tired of my scratchin’ and drums
And of couse I wanna expand to the maximum
So I inject in one more element to that of L.L.
Came up with something’ funky called Rock the Bells
During this episode vocally I explode
My title is the king of the FM mode
See, my volume expands to consume
And my structures emote a lyrical heirloom
Vocally pulsating, I initiate gyrating
Ya must respond to my bells, there’s no waiting
For the duration, there’s no articulation
Receiving ovation for the bell association
The vocalization techniques I employ
The voice of my shadow could take a toy boy
The injection of bells into this beat
The result-enough evergy to amputate your feet
Greater insulator microphone dominator
My name is Cool J, manipulator innovator
Connoisseur, I’m sure my percussion will excite
These bells are gonna rock all night
Rock the bells
The bells make your energy escalate
A sort of musical fury L.L. might detonate
Subject matter entitled “The Bells”
The lyrical arrangement is by L.L.
My program strains the tympanic membrane
I’ve been ordained the best believe I’ll flame
Paragraphs I concoct, Cut Creator’s like an organist
Cool J exists as a journalist
I illuminate over any number on the Richter
My throat contracts like a boa constrictor
You’re totally engulfed by the structure and the format
It’s not dormant, it goes to the core, man
As you repain, you’ll say I went
To torture individuals for excitement
Ambassador, the Thane of Cawdor
Dialect so def, it’ll rip up the floor
Ignite and excite with verbal extensions
What I’ll mention will put you on pension
Makin’ you tremble, nothin’ resemble
The bells and if it don’t
I disassemble
hit if you bit
I go have a fit
The master impresario of lyrical wit
A hip-hop creature, concert feature
Amateur teacher, my rhymes reach ya
When I commence with excellence
It eradicates levels of pestilence
Upon a plateau
No mortal can go
Mythological characters stand below
Rock the bells
A B-boy symphony complete with bells
No classical fanatic is parallel
From the design of my lyrics many people call me
An immortalized B-boy prodigy
Eeee a misdemeanor, cleaner women I subpoena
No conjecture in my lecture, name and adversary Gina
Promoter, my tune revolves like rotor
Wild style decoder, the cranium of Yoda
Rehearsing steadily, growing I sing tweeter, mid-range
And woofers need guarding
The bells rip your auditory canal
Plagiarism is suicide for then I shall
Be forced to assault
Our position will halt
Upset you with words
Drink your blood like it’s a malt
Opposite of illusions
Evidently it’s true
The beat metabolism supposed to accelerate you
Hallucinating severe convulsion
Your equilibrium is took from my propolsion
I came here tonight to rock
These bells will never stop
Rock the Bells
Ya livin’ off my lines
Autographs I sign
Inferior fan-recorder of my rhyme
Perfect spectator, well I’m the dominator
You rely and refine, it and you save it for later
Swipe it as you type it
You recite it as you bite it
Then you claim it as your own to get them excited
About it as you shout it
You don’t tell them how go it
And you repeat it and rock it
Multiply it, divide it, ya even sit inside it
It’s L.L.’s rhyme, I know ya wanna bite it
You announce, I pounce, destroy, annihilate
If you break, you’ll be straight when I eliminate
You study lke scholars and you write ’em on your collars
You’ll bomb and you’ll try before a million dollars
I get like a leopard, attack, ransack, disturb, cold crush
Use a line, I make ’em hush
The lovers in the taker, faker, lovers of the Lakers, simulator
Rap traitor,l perfect perpetrator
To see ya as you bit the words
You’d think you never heard
The mike sings like a hummin’ bird
Rock the Bells
Jack the Ripper
King Hercules
Professor of Death in the Seven Seas
Grim reaper of rhyme
Holder of the rock
Eradicating suckers all around the clock
The supreme machine
A microphone dream
My revenge is brutal when you start to scheme
I mean, you’re my adversary, I enjoy the feud
No Peruvian rock, cocaine or quaalude
The story, the beginning of your death is heard
But your cries are ignored by the kind of word
I’m the super insane murderer in the rain
Like a vampire goin’ for your jugular vein
Exterminating crews with my manuscript
And the best thing you wrote was a bunch of bullshit
The night of the nights
You’re my victim tonight
You ain’t nothin’ nobody so get outta any sight
Bein’ crushed by the source
It’s reinforced (thoughts)
Now ya feel remorse ’cause ya know who’s boss
L.L. Cool J is your undertaker
Def hit-maker plus a bone-breaker
Treble terminator, bass mutilator
You can drop your drawers, I’m a rapper castrator
On the microphone you will never recoup
When I’m finished with you, boy, you’ll be suckin’ on soup
Music virtuoso, melodical employer
I knew you was a sucker, first time I saw ya
Roll the red carpet, royalty’s arrived
Don’t try to fight back ’cause you won’t survive
So don’t never ever in any kind of weather
Try to mess with the tall young legend in leather
L.L. servin’ ’em well
The beat elevates and the scratch excels
Rock the Bells
