Have you ever watched a television show or movie with a kid?  I urge you to try it sometimes because they do this really magical thing where they point at the screen and replace their real lives with that of the character they are watching.   Its fascinating to watch them excitedly exclaim, "I'm him/her", or "you him/her", and even more fascinating how easily it is to forget that once upon a time we did that too.

     I think that is why Hip Hop will never die, no matter how ignorant, murderous, and materialistic it gets.  The execs that write the checks know that for three minutes, teenagers and adults of all ages will crank the volume and replace their own lives with the much better ones riding the bass lines.  Which brings me to the reason for this blog....a song I heard called, U.O.E.N.O., or  you don't even know it.    The jest of the song is that there are four badasses riding around with blank checks, bad bitches, big bad boys, and committed crimes that will never get prosecuted.  They are invincible, essentially.  

     So, being the socially conscious smart ass that I am, I begin to ponder a response to this song.  My song would be called, I.D.O.E.M.  The Real World Remix, Bitch.  And yes, you have to say the whole title.  It go something like this:
"Its hungry folk on the street, It don't even matter.
Soma dem even got kids , and It don't even matter
College grads wanna save the world, It don't even matter
Mosta dem wont even get a job, and it don't even matter."

Picture it. I'm on the treadmill, with a full mug on my face, totally absorbed in my fantasy.  I can see myself in the studio, red bottoms on, the longest, flyest, Remi hair tightly sewn to my skull, make up flawless, telling these rapper folks what really goin' down in des here streetz.  Then I thought,  "nobody'll listen to that".  That's what the news is for.

     These artists are really doing nothing wrong, (except for bragging about the crimes because I can't get down with that).  They are musical magicians because for three minutes, my used car becomes a tricked out candy red Range Rover with caramel seats, Id call her Candy Apple.  For three minutes, my bills are paid,  and my ride home from work becomes a ride down Times Square, and my 9-5 behind becomes an invincible Hip Hop god. 

     I wiped the sweat off of my brow, and my vision out of my head....I just lost a rap battle, and the other artists didn't even know it. 

In Love

-Chasitie