Archive for June, 2008

Dinosaur Boom Bap Rap Music Comeback…

Monday, June 30th, 2008


The Damaja >>> 99.9% of crappers in the game

JERU killed Prospect Park like only one of Brooklyn’s favorite sons could. The Crooklyn Dodgers re-union in Prospect Park was a show for the ages. It reminded me that emcees >>> rappers. And every rapper is not an emcee. Being a good rapper or even a great rapper is Kool and the gang.

Being a great emcee…

Fucks with Buckshot Shorty if he is in your town.

Fucks with JERU the Damaja when his shows come around.

Even Chubb Rock murdered the microphone on his return home.

KRS-1 set the standard last year for Brooklyn emceeing when he did his show at the same bandshell in Prospect Park. Definitely go see him this summer at the Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festival. It is one of the times you will get to see exactly what Hip-Hop is borne of. The ceremony of communication within the community.

We still here.

They shut off our lights.

We still here.

They shut off the mics.

We still here.

They can’t take our rights.

You want to call this a culture? Then say that Hip-Hop is the culture of the celebration of life.

It’s unfortunate when the vehicle that so many can use to make a living is being driven by those who only wish to make a killing.
-Chuck D

Where do I start to talk about this show?

Oh yeah, emcees > rappers.

We’ve covered these topics previously. Nothing has changed. Buckshot Shorty is an iconoclastic emcee. Black Moon singlehandedly pioneered backpack rap. How could you NOT fucks with them? Smif-N-Wessun. Heltah Skeltah. OGC. The list continues for the Duck Down label, but at the foundation is Black Moon. Buckshot and Evil Dee ripped shit like it was the Red Zone in 1992. Buckshot ran the stage like a track while he made sure that he still kept time with his verses. I forget sometimes how pivotal ‘Enta Da Stage’ was as a piece of music. Hip-Hop lives through independent artists that are creative with their content and presentation.

Kidz In The Hall should do well as Duck Down artists.

Jeru the Damaja rrrrrrripped up his set as well. Sonn had a plan and he executed it flawlessly. Freestyles can be loosely jointed rhyme verses that you have the cadences for counted already in your domepiece. Jeru gave up several freestyles along with his classics and never settled on the audience’s lack of ability to chant along with him. Jeru was ahead of his time in 1994. Nothing’s changed in 2008. The people still need to cram to understand.

Chubb Rock did his thing too. Chubb is so Hip-Hop. The party didn’t get started until Chubb Rock came onstage and nobody let him leave without the seminal fanboy love anthem ‘Treat ‘Em Right’.

I was up in the trees during Masta Ace. For Special Ed too. Special Ed might have been up the trees too, I don’t know. My biggest complaint was the fact that the soundmen has the monitors tuned so low with almost no bass. Real live Hip-Hop needs bass like Flavor Flav needs base.

O.C. was there. Yes, he did ‘Time’s Up’. Please do the knowledge on this song.

Somebody count the polysyllabic words.



You lack the minerals and vitamins irons and the niacin
Fuck who that I offend rappers sit back I’m bout to begin
bout foul talk you sqwak never even walked the walk
More less destined to get tested never been arrested
My album will manifest many things that I saw did or heard about
or told first hand never word of mouth
What’s in the future for the fusion in the changer?
Rappers are in danger who will use wits to be a remainder
When the missile is aimed, to blow you out of the frame
Some will keep their limbs and, some will be maimed
The same suckers with the gab about, killer instincts
but turned bitch and knowin damn well they lack
In this division the conniseur, crackin your head with a 4 by 4
Realize sucka, I be the comin like Noah
Always sendin you down, perpetratin facadin what you consider
a image, to me this is, just a scrimmage
I’m feel I’m stone, not cause I bop or wear my cap cocked
The more emotion I put into it, the harder I rock
Those who pose lyrical but really ain’t true I feel,

“Their time’s limited, hard rocks too”




Speakin in tongues, about what you did but you never done it
Admit you bit it cause the next man gained platinum behind it
I find it ironic, so I researched and analyzed
Most write about stuff they fantasized
I’m fed up with the bull, on this focus of weed and clips
and glocks gettin cocked, and wax not bein flipped
It’s the same old same old just strain it from the anal
The contact, is not com-pexed or vexed
So why you puhsin it? Why you lyin for? I know where you live
I know your folks, you was a sucka as a kid
Your persona’s drama, that you acquired in high school in actin class
Your whole aura is plexi-glass
What’s-her-face told me you shot this kid last week in the park
That’s a lie, you was in church with your moms
See I know yo, slow your roll, give a good to go
Guys be lackin in this thing called rappin just for dough
Of course we gotta pay rent, so money connects, but uhh
I’d rather be broke and have a whole lot of respect
It’s the principal of it, I get a rush when I bust
some dope lines oral, that maybe somebody’ll quote
That’s what I consider real, in this field of music
Instead of puttin brain cells to work they abuse it
Non-conceptual, non-exceptional
Everybody’s either crime-related or sexual
I’m here to make a difference, besides all the riffin
The traps are not stickin, rappers stop flippin
For those who pose lyrical but really ain’t true I feel

“Their time’s limited, hard rocks too”

Oh No They Didn’t?!? Oh Yes They Did!

Monday, June 30th, 2008


What hath been wrought by wretched niggerdom?

Peep how some high school kids conspired to prank on their classmates by crediting their yearbook pictures with names that you typically find in the domain of people that typically don’t even graduate from high school.

Blacks Given ‘Ghetto’ Names In SoCal Yearbook

I laugh to myself sometimes because these same kids will need every drop of whatever being white is still worth in order for them to survive. Most white goes through this thing coasting on the coattails of the gun-toting supremacists. When shit gets thick like Hurricane Starrkeysha they fall back and refocus on simpler shit like taking care of dogs and recycling. Blacks rioted for KENNEDY, white, not so much. Blacks also rioted for RODNEY KING so I should retract that argument. My point it these kids are no different than their parents because their parents are prA’li coasting too.

My badd for trowing shit on white. Damn near half the school population is Mexican. It would serve Blak kids right to catch some latent supremacy from the Mexicans. This way when the Latin vote shits on OBAAMA in November no one should be one bit surprised.

The school board will prA’li try to single one kid out as if the yearbook was run off on the copier in the S.O. office. I don’t think you can recall the yearbooks now though. Why should trees continue to suffer for the indiscretions of humans? The guilty and negligent parties should be ass raped. That’s how the barbarians settled accountability errors.

You have to have love for the people that name their kids some redonkulous, hard to pronounce shit. They are the folks putting their middle finger up to supremacy.

I blame NaS.

This is just promotion for his album that was to be titled ‘Nigger’.

He made y’all look.

Everybody was so sick over the ‘N’ word that you forgot about the ‘S’ word.

SHANIQUA, bitches!

Just as an aside, I have 312 Facebooks contacts and 31 of them have names that begin in ‘SHANI’ and I have 13 contacts with a variation of the name ‘SHANIQUA’. Get your ‘SHANI’ Facebook weight up bitches.

On the real, watch how much this yearbook gets on eBay.

I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends…

Sunday, June 29th, 2008


DP Dot Com Family and Friends,

If I haven’t said “Thank You” to you personally over the past thirty some odd years, then please forgive my reticence.

To Chocolate Snowflake,
You are the most beautiful woman in the world.

Your beauty would surely set 1000 ships asail for the shores of Troy [ll].

The glow from your smile is my favorite toy.

You are compassionate past words to the sounds that a deaf man hears.

You are intelligent to a level that most humans can’t attain even if they lived light years…

I’m gonna have to send that joint on the IM because you fools wanna get bloggy. I gotta def give C.S. a shout though because I recognize who butters my buns. I’m not even gonna follow that use with a [ll] sign. If any of you homos ever get a broad and you go to St. Maarten with her on some str8 holiday ish then you might could possibly feel as good as I do. They doing it nice and smooth down there too, but if you make the jump take my advice, rent an apartment with a full kitchen. C.S. and I hit up the supermarket and made better meals by our damn selves than we paid good U.S. cash for in some of St. Maarten’s so-called restaurants (no SoCalled).

The beaches were dope though. Nah’Mean?!?


C.S. was on her co-pilot grizzly too. We circumnavigated the island and found a few spots to max and relax in our Kangol hats while the sun set.





Peace to my brother GUDTYME. That is my negro. He is the cat that gave me my taste of the limelight in the entertainment production game. Mainly he taught me the Record Industry Rule #5,673.

“There shall be no smiling. Evar.”

no smiles

I be fucking up sometimes though.

Like when I’m winning, I’m always grinning.

Shout to Haitian Miguel too, and Haitian Greggs.

Even though that shit was just mad what is called non-sequitur I had to go there.

Fuck it though since I’m high and I got a nice little mixtape on the stereo.

More shout outs…

GrandMaster, I rocked those AF-1s this Sunday when I hung out with momdukes. Rain came down a bunch of times but they never got wet. Went to visit dad. The Mets won.

Combat Jack

Thank you all individually and personally.

What the fuck has been going on here in the states? I heard the NBA had a draft. Do Knickerbocker fans even give a fuck? Did I miss the annual B.E.T. awards too?

Damn, all this ninja shit is poppin’ off like Shinobi.

Let’s see what else is good with the world…

Throw That Shit Out!

Saturday, June 28th, 2008

self storage

This is gonna hurt some of y’all feelings, but this is the ‘Tough Love MONTEL WILLIAMS’ part of the DP Dot Com show. This shit is written only to describe a part of my life that I have decided to alter. If you can relate to the knowledge I drop then get in where you fit in.

I just touched down from my vacay in St. Maarten. Ma Dukes is in town now too. She is a little bent out of shape because he flight from the ‘A’ was diverted into Pittsburgh for an undisclosed three hour layover. WTF gives? Airlines are madd bootlegg right now. C.S. and I had a mini 60 minute delay inside the customs area waiting for our check-in luggage. I normally don’t have any heck-in items but I can blame my vanity this time. I did bring the jumbo size bottle of SPF -30 cooking, er, tanning oil for the trip. Checking in items on any airline except British Airways = fugazi.

So Dukes is sick with me because I put her up in a hotel instead of in my apartment on Long Island. First off, I am considering the maneuvers she is making in the fam’s former stomping grounds – Queens stand up. So it’s not like I haven’t taken thought to her ease of movement. My kid brother’s baby mamas (3×3) all come from the literally the same neighborhood (Jackson Heights – East Elmhurst). My dad is interred in Queens close by. My mom’s sisters are all within earshot as well.

My mom is only focused on cleaning out the hotdamned storage unit in Hempstead. Finally she is ready to throw this shit out. It’s been time to do that shit. I said that shit years ago. When my dad convinced me to throw out the stuff I kept in the garage he did so by saying that I kept too much bullshit. He was right too. I had ridiculous dumb shit in the garage from all my years alone. I threw away my entire cassette collection. I only kept three tapes. Wu-Tang’s ‘Enter the 36’, the Purple Tape and O.D.B.’s first joint. Funny story, true story is that someone put the CNN album in the case because when I found these tapes in a box a little while ago that was the deal. Shit like that always happened at my bachelor pad. It was the quintessential jumpoff spot where you were always welcomed if you had an elle or a 40 oz. Niggas thought that allowed them to leave with something. A Tribe Called Quest debut album was stolen from me so many times I never bought another ATCQ album until ‘The Love Movement’. I just stole other people’s ATCQ cassettes.

So boom, my dad’s point was anything you have in storage is pwning you more than you are owning it. Shit is occupying space that you could otherwise put some shit you use or has a greater value. I shouldn’t have let my dad make me believe the shit I was hoarding had no value. If you look at the classic (photoshopped?) picture of Biggie and 2Pac hanging out together it was taken at the Bad Boy label launch party. The poster in the background is Puffy’s kid Justin in a diaper. The party was at the Tunnel and I remember it well because it was a top-shelf obama and I took about 30 of those posters.

big and pac

I didn’t have a thing for kids in diapers like ROBERT SYLVESTER, but I thought it would be a slick idea to have one wall of my bachelor pad plastered in placards. I had some sick shit hanging around my crib that I mostly came up on from my garbage digging tendencies. I went through the garbage onetime at Tower Records and came up on a 72″ mylar promo poster for LL Cool J’s ‘Mama Said Knock You Out’ single. Posters were also cool because then I didn’t have to paint. When I moved back into my parent’s house all this stuff was transferred into my parent’s garage and my dad saw it as a load of shit. The main reason I got on eBay eight years ago was so that I at least made a few bucks from all the shit I accumulated instead of just putting them in a dumpster.

I put my mom in a hotel for another reason. My apartment looks like a storage warehouse. You’ve seen the pictures. Shoeboxes fill the wallspaces that don’t have framed art hanging on them (read: everywhere). Shit is in various stages of coming or going. Neatly ordered, but still everywhere.

Sometimes I feel like my apartment is a curious experiment in the exercise of having too much of nothing.

-D motherfuckin’ P

So this is my challenge to myself for the remainder of the summer. I intend to complete over 101 eBay transactions up until Columbus Day weekend. Shit is on like a motherfucker. Maybe after Columbus Day I can let my mom stay at my crib. This storage shit is bullshit and vain. Anyhoo, I’m tired as fuck and rambling and cursing incoherently. Get rid of your storage rooms party people. If you really need to store some shit then do it, but don’t keep a storage locker filled with bullshit magazines, CD’s(fuck around, VHS tapes) and old clothes unless you plan on opening up a newsstand, that reruns old movies inside of a vintage clothing store.

And who cares about that old bullshit anyhoo?

the addict


Saturday, June 28th, 2008


There isn’t much for me to say to glorify this man that more notable statesmen haven’t already proffered.

GEORGE CARLIN was a genius.

Period. Point blank.

He was committed to discussing the truth and also needed to be committed to an asylum. I loved CARLIN’s examination of language and how it is used to confuse our better sensibilities. There is SOOOOOO much in my life that I have cribbed from his rants. My lifelong ambition to be a class clown was fueled from listening to CARLIN cassettes. The name on my eBay account comes from a CARLIN skit. He taught me to love the word ‘cunt’. I’ll assume he taught JOHN McCAIN as well.

Here are a few rants of his that describe his genius perfectly. Thank you GOD for sending us this humble servant. I shudder to think what GEORGE CARLIN would say to that.

‘Why Kids Love Farts’

‘Baseball vs. Football’

‘The List Of People Who Ought To Be Killed’