Heeerrreee's Jimmy!

I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't feeling Jimmy...

I'd also be lying if I said I used to like him before...haha.

I didn't. He used to be the off-beat rapper that hyped up a Cam track with words...I called him Cam's hype man.

But ever since We Fly High came out and banged the charts last year, this man has been doing the thizzy- true stillz.

Through the Dip Set break up, Cam's disappearance and Max B (the terrible singer that seems to sound good when he sings...kinda like Nate Dogg) throwing shots at him he seems to have stayed strong and on top of water. Now he's releasing a new mixtape with all new bangers, inderludes, and the introduction of the S.P.L.A.S.H. life.

The beats are nasty, the swag is monkey food, and the interludes...

wow.

Like Shawty Lo, it's not the rhymes that gets sales...it's the swag. And big homie has it.

"I see ya'll out there waiting for the next move! Waiting to see what we're going to wear next! Some of you can't even get dressed without it! We wrap them scarves up, cuz we don't wanna see you funny niggas!"

hahaha...so true though. So sad, yet so true.

Get it before it's eaten up!

SPLASH!!! Follow the drip!

Download link below...

Jim Jones Street Religion: Love Me No More Edition

http://www.sendspace.com/file/4lv2wx

CHANGE

Check this out


What do you think about this?
Is change good?
Have we as a people come a long way, or are we just doing a circle dance in a yo-yo society?
Think about it...

Peace & Blessings
Lu

Outside

Lol...reality.

I mean, the Internet wasn't closed of course, but I didn't feel like doing work, or whatever I'd be doing INSIDE...

I decided to enjoy the beautiful day- once again.

Once again, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the

breeze and heat was balanced...Not too cold, not too hot...

just right, like the baby bear's porridge.

I left my 2 o'clock and walked to Firehouse Subs with a friend of mine. I'd never had a sub from there, and I heard good things about it, SO I decided to try it out myself.

YUM.

We then decided to enjoy more of the day, and we walked to checkers...

I had some fries.

YUM.

yeah...I'm a fat man at heart...and I know if I keep it up, I'll be a fat man at body!

((lame joke drum chime))

But anyway, later on I decided to fill out an application as I sat under the shade...

I'm just taking life as it comes...who knows when I enter the realest life (right now, we're in the real life...when we graduate we'll be in the realer life, and when we own our own place with kids and a full time- that's the REALEST life, you feel me?) if I'll ever be able to just chill and enjoy the breeze...with no worries or stresses?

So why not do it now...

So many of us run around and find so much to do that we forget about the small things in life...

Like Kanye said "the best things in life are free..."

I'm just starting to understand.

Sometimes you just need to take a deep breath- inhale that fresh air- get that natural high- relax...

Try it...it works.

Go outside, look at the beauty around you, think about your blessings, and take a DEEP breath...

-HOLD it...

...

then release slowly...

and smile.
BET you feel much better.

Peace & Blessings

Lu

Wow :-)

As I enter the library and walk by a few computers, one of them catches my eye...
the screen held a familiar picture...
the picture i used for my Stereotype story!
I nearly stopped in my tracks...
but I kept on my trot as a broad smile spread over my face.
the feeling of somebody reading your work...wow. lol
I mean i know people read it due to the wonderful feedback i get, but the fact that somebody is sitting there into the story...and YOU created it...
wow.
that feeling.
i can't do anything but smile...

it feels amazing...in the most modest tone i can give...
thank you, readers. I could never do it without you.
:-)

Peace & Blessings
Lu

Stereotype {Jack}

Jack

What the hell was I supposed to do?
Where could I turn?
My mother was dying from breast cancer, I was getting evicted from my apartment, my car broke down, I was out of a job and nobody would hire me. I had under a hundred dollars to my name, with no idea of where I could get more money. I couldn’t even buy a train pass. To keep from risking jail time by jumping over the railing to get a free ride home, I asked around for some change. It was late, and there weren’t much people around, so I was stuck with just asking the very few people that walked by.
My luck wasn’t looking too hot.
Everybody told me no, each excuse matching the one before it- they didn’t have change, cash, an extra token, blah, blah, blah. I remember being in their shoes before when people would ask me for some money and I would always deny them due to the fact that I was stingy, or I was just too damn lazy to reach into my pocket.
Karma is a bitch, aint it?
Just like life.
I really wished they were in my shoes so they could see how desperate I was.
Time was running, and it was getting colder. Nobody walked by me for some time.
I felt so pitiful, so low.
Begging?
I would have never thought I’d be a damn beggar.
How humiliating…
Finally I saw three black guys coming my way. They certainly didn’t look like they had any extra money, and I was about to just let them pass by, but I figured I should try my luck.
The worst I could get was a no, right?
“Hey my brothers,” I approached them reluctantly. They stopped and looked at me. “Do you have any change I can use to get on this train?”
They looked at each other, and immediately started to dig in their pockets. I was relieved that there was a chance, but I didn’t get my hopes up.
A second later, a dollar fifty was in my hand- the price of a train ride.
I thanked God, and then thanked them.
They started to walk to the gates, sliding their Breeze cards and easing through the railings when they opened. I guess these guys rode the train all the time. People that hardly rode the train used change, or tokens to ride. I inserted my money and slid through the railing. I went down some stairs, and saw the three boys running towards a train. I didn’t feel like running, but I didn’t know if another one would be coming soon after, so I started to run. One of the guys held the door open for me with his body as it started to close.
Two favors…that were much needed.
I thanked them again, and looked for a seat on the empty train.
The train as empty as my mind…
I needed a blunt.
I sat towards the back of the car alone, and rested my head on the back of the seat in front of me. I closed my eyes and started to think.
I wanted to think positively, but there was nothing positive going on in my life.
Nothing.
The only thing that held a chance of being positive was the fact that I was still breathing…
But was that positive?
To be honest, sometimes I felt that I’d rather die than live this life…
I pulled out my pocket knife and started to finger it.
Times like this make you want to rob somebody…kill somebody.
Take their happiness.
I just didn’t understand how some people could just have everything they ever wanted, and then some had to suffer. Why did I have to be one of the suffering? Did I deserve this?
I looked up to check out my surroundings.
There were the three guys I got the money from, and beyond them was a white guy on the other end of the train. I didn’t notice him when I first got on. I focused my vision on him.
He seemed to be a typical upper class male. The guy you saw when ‘white guy’ crossed your mind. The rich, the happy, the ‘how about those Yankees, Bill?’ type of guy. I wondered why he was on the train this late. Why was he even on the train? Where was his chauffer? He looked like he just walked out of a damn photo shoot.
He knew no pain.
He knew nothing about being without.
He probably had things brought to him on a silver platter by a butler named Farnsworth.
I looked at him with hatred in my eyes, and then I realized that he shared the same stare for the black boys sitting across from him.
I noticed how he would stare at them, and then as soon as one of them would look his way, he’d turn his gaze towards something else.
What a racist prick.
I was about to put my head down until I heard one of the guys say something to him.
I tried to listen, but I couldn’t really hear- due to the fact that they were on the other side of the car. I rested my head back on the seat.
The negative thoughts returned.
I needed money.
What would I do about getting money?
What could I do?
Nobody would hire me due to the priors on my records, and I had no transportation to even get anywhere.
What could I do?
The train stopped.
I looked up in time to see the three boys exit the train. They looked bothered. I looked at the white guy, and he gave me a smirk. The smirk told me that he probably said something smart to set the three guys off. He popped earphones from an Ipod into his ear.
I didn’t like that guy.
I didn’t like the way he was looking at the black dudes as if they were the scum of the Earth. I didn’t like how he seemed to think he was better than them; better than me.
I didn’t like that he seemed to have what I wanted.
I needed money- what could I do?
I finally knew.
I contemplated as we neared the last stop.
Was it worth it? Do I need to do this? Would I get much?
Every answer seemed to lean towards a yes.
I didn’t need to think about it…I just needed to do it.
He had money, so he would just get a scare. Then he’d bounce back.
Finally, the last stop. My heart started pounding.
This world wasn’t for me. Why was it for him?
He got up and left the train. I also exited.
Why did he deserve to have what I wanted?
He probably had a grand on him, if not- a credit card with no limit.
I followed him to the parking deck where you could park your cars, and then ride the bus or train. He had a relaxed stroll as if he had no worries in the world. That’s usually how rich people were. They didn’t have a care.
I saw his hands strumming an imaginary guitar as I got closer.
I sped up behind him, and it wasn’t until I almost stepped on him that he realized I was there. He looked behind him, saw me there, and jumped as if he were startled.
“Oh my God, it’s you!” He exclaimed. He pulled out an earpiece. “Wow. For a second I thought you were one of those three black guys on the train. I was scared for a little bit, but I knew they wouldn’t do anything to me with you on the train. What’s up, bro?”
The ignorance that poured out of his mouth sealed the deal.
“Give me your money.” I demanded. “Bro.” I added.
“Huh?” He looked confused as if he didn't understand- as if this could never happen to him. Oh, the naïve.
“Give me your fucking money!” I raised my voice, and pulled my knife out of my pocket and showed it to him. “I’m not playing. I don’t have time for this. Give me the iPod, and your money. Now!”
His expression changed from flabbergasted to petrified.
I stayed my place, and demanded what I wanted once again.
He took his time taking off the other iPod earplug.
“Hurry the fuck up! I have no time to waste!” I looked around to make sure there was nobody else around. The parking lot was clear.
“Empty your pockets, man. Empty them! I want the iPod too, man.”
He gave me the iPod, and I stuffed it into my pocket. He took out his wallet, and it dropped from his hands. As I kneeled down to get it, he took off running.
I snatched up the wallet, and started to chase him, and then changed my mind.
Why chase him down? I got what I wanted.
I got what I needed.
I frantically looked around to see if there were any witnesses.
I saw no one.
I started to run.
I ran until I got out of the Marta station, and I ran some more.
I ran until I was blocks away, and the deed was behind me- yet the evidence in my hands.
I leaned against a sign to catch my breath.
Opening the wallet, my chest heaving, I was excited to see what I retrieved. I knew I had to have enough to get me off my feet- at least give me a little push towards helping myself.
I peered inside the brown wallet, and didn’t see much. An ID, some coupons, some cards, and a hundred dollar bill.
A hundred dollars?
What the hell?
Was the guy not rich? He looked like he modeled for Prada!
A disappointment.
A waste of time.
I needed to get home before the cops started to look for me. I’d be damned if I went to prison for a hundred dollars.
I backed away from the sign so I could see where I was.
Northside Drive is what the sign read.

Lucius McCall

Stereotype {Omari}

Omari

I was dead tired from the basketball game me and my brothers just played.
Winning wore me out…haha.
I couldn’t wait to get home to take a shower.
My brothers and I found seats on the train, and placed our bags down. We remained standing.
“Man, we finna be the champions, shawty!” my brother Jamal yelled out. “You saw how I dunked on his ass?”
He started to do the motions.
He screamed out “Youuullll!” as he dunked on the imaginary man in front of him.
I laughed. “Man, whatever. I was the one making them threes!” I did a fade-away motion as I stepped backwards. “I was on point today, bruh.”
It felt good to win a game, and playing basketball was the only time I really ever got to see my old friends anymore. We were a winning team on the South side.
I took a look around the train and saw the guy we gave change to sitting on the other end of the train. His head was down, and it rocked with the motions of the train.
He seemed down and out, as if he felt he had no purpose.
I hoped things got better for him…there was no reason for a guy to seem so upset.
I know he wasn’t living the life we were used to…
I looked over at the white guy sitting alone across from us.
His expression looked as if he were startled because he saw black people on the train.
He probably doesn’t think I noticed him turn off his iPod as soon as he saw us.
What, did he think we were going to steal it?
He probably doesn’t think I see him staring at us out of the corner of his eyes…
I’m not stupid.
I’m used to it.
Everywhere I go with my brothers on the North side of Atlanta, we get stared at. My mother recently moved us to that area for a better life, but it seemed that no matter where we went, trouble followed us. It didn’t matter if we moved out of the hood, the darkness of the ghetto still left us in the shade.
I hated the way people looked at us on the North side- as if we didn’t belong there. As if we were scum. As if we had to ask permission before every move. Going to a new school with all those white people…it just made me feel so uncomfortable. Then the black kids who were there acted just like the white kids…
They acted like we were going to hurt them!
This makes you want to cause harm to them since they already have it fixed in their minds that you will!
Just because we couldn’t afford a polo short, dress shoes, and hundred dollar khakis, I guess we were lower than the others, huh?
What’s on the outside determines a man, right?
A skin color, right?
I was so sick of it.
He continued to stare indirectly.
I came to the conclusion that this stupid rich guy is either racist, or gay
-or both.
I tried to ignore him, but I got tired of him trying to watch us on the sly- but obviously not sly enough. It was time to dead this.
“Can I help you?” I asked him.
“Excuse me?” He seemed surprised as he looked at me, then my brothers.
“Can I help you?” I repeated myself. “You keep looking over at me and my brothers as if there may be a problem that we don’t know about. Maybe you can share it with us.”
“It’s a free country, man.” He responded. “I’ve just been looking around. Why are you being so paranoid? I just want to get home. Just like you.”
“Don't be stupid! Looking around is fine man, but you keep looking at us as if you’ve never seen black people before!” I was getting angry, and his nonchalant attitude was adding fuel to the fire. I hated being treated like the inferior.
“Leave that faggot alone, bruh.” My brother Tee-Jay grabbed my arm. “It’s not that serious. This our stop. Fuck his gay ass.”
We grabbed our bags, and as we exited I looked back at the gay guy. He was staring back. I shook my head.
“Haha, that man in there thought you were cute, boy!” Jamal cried out. I pushed him away from me. “With his ol tight shirt wearing ass looking like his fat just wanna be set free got damn!"
I laughed. My brothers knew how to cool me down. "Where mama said she was gonna meet us at?”

Stereotype {Tyler}

Tyler

I didn’t know what to do as I stood at the rail side waiting for the train to arrive.
I was alone.
I tapped my feet impatiently, wishing it would hurry up. It was late, about one o’clock in the morning, and my date was on another train headed home- headed west. Her train was on time.
I couldn’t say the same for mine.
I was impatiently waiting for the train going north.
I was standing at the connector, the middle stop; the train station that connected all ways- the North, East, South, and West sides of Atlanta.
The stop of diversity…Five Points.
You would come to this station to go downtown, to go to a Braves game, the airport, to work etc. It separated the venues, along with the races, the incomes, and the attitudes of Metro Atlanta.
The rich went north and west, the poor went east and south.
The college students went north and west, the thugs and drug addicts went south and east.
I was just a young, middle class, struggling college male trying to get home- northbound.
Marta is smarter is what I always heard.
It’s smart until you’re alone at night trying to get a ride home without driving (do you see the gas prices?), or taking a taxi (1.50 a mile? Screw that!). That, my friend, is when riding the Marta was just plain stupid.
The advertisements for riding the train were nice and attracting, polite and persuading. But the news stories about Marta were the opposite.

‘Young teen robbed and killed at Five Points station.’

‘Three friends were brutally beaten at the Six Flags Train Station after leaving the Six Flags Amusement Park.’

‘Girl raped in the bathroom at College Park Train Station.’

‘College student pushed onto the train tracks when the train arrives as a gang initiation.’

I didn’t want to seem terrified, but I was.
I stood there and prayed, asking Him to allow me to get onto this train, ride to my stop, get into my car and drive home without getting raped and killed by hoodlums who didn’t care about anything. I had a lot to lose, unlike the people who lived in the ghetto.
What made me feel even worse about this situation were the clothes I was wearing. I had on an outfit my sister picked out for me before she left for the Navy, and it’s been my ‘first date outfit’ ever since. Before she helped me out, I had no fashion sense whatsoever, and after she left, I could only see it getting worse. So I stuck to what I knew looked good. My white Polo shirt, Express Producer Khakis, white Aldo square toed shoes, and white rimmed D&G glasses were begging robbers to come strip me from my forged wealth. Little did they know, I only had a hundred dollars to call my own.
I heard a rumbling and felt the ground shaking.
I blew a kiss to God as the screeching of the brakes started.
The train was here.
I got on the train relieved- happy that I didn’t have to deal with the bull others had to deal with. Maybe they were busy robbing somebody else.
Smart choice on their part. I had nothing to give.
I closed my eyes as the train pulled from the stop and headed North.
I was relieved to be leaving behind the filth; the malevolent; the grime; the soil.
The opportunity…let them try to catch me now!
The blacks…
Don’t get me wrong, I’m in no way racist. I have black friends! I talk to black people! I tutor them at school! Blacks are cool.
The ones who lived east and south weren’t though. Who do you think were doing the robbing, stealing, and killing on the Marta lines? White popes? People doing things with their lives like college students?
Every time you turn on the TV, you see a black man killing somebody. You hear about it on the news- them killing each other. You see the rap videos. They praise selling drugs, having sex, and murder. They don’t mind going to jail. And white people, we’re supposed to be the crackers. We’re supposedly the ones after them. According to them, they don’t do anything! We arrest them for no reason. We want them all in jail…we want to enslave them. We’re the reason they have drugs in their community. They need to get over the events that happened hundreds of years ago, and look at the present and try to better themselves instead of taking the easy way out any blaming everyone else for their problems!
Nigga.
They call each other that, and it’s every other word out of their mouth. But as soon as someone a little lighter says it, tension arises. Tension too thick to cut with a steak knife.
If you walk around downtown, you see the crack heads, the homeless, and the dealers. They are all black. They have nothing to lose. Why wouldn’t they rob somebody? A life in jail would be better than the one they have now!
The African Americans who live where I live have a head on their shoulders. I would call them more white than black. That guy running for president right now who is a little darker than everyone else is not black. I’m actually voting for him.
Racist?
My ass.
I took a seat, popped in my earphones and turned on my iPod. I relaxed a little. I could trust that I would get home safe. I was headed North.
I closed my eyes again, and listened to the sweet sounds of Pink Floyd.
Stop after stop I felt the train stopping and going; stopping and going. I had a long way to go, and I decided it would be nice to nap through it.
I could trust it.
Nothing happened on the north side of Atlanta.

***

I opened my eyes to see how many stops I had left, and was staggered at the sight.
The people I saw were obviously headed the wrong way. I sat up straight and shut off my iPod. I thought I was alone on the train, but I guess the hooligans snuck on as I napped. They were probably plotting to do something right now. I pretended to be looking at my iPod, but I glanced at them a couple times.
There were three of them.
All in the same attire…the usual apparel. A long white tee that looked like a dress, baggy jeans that were sagged to their knees, and Air Force One sneakers. Each of them held a sports bag, which I doubted had anything ‘sporty’ in it. It was probably filled with drugs or money- or stolen items. Isn’t that what the song Duffle Bag Boy is about?
What were they doing?
Why were they headed to the North?
There was nothing up there for them!
Was I on the wrong train?
I sat up straight and pulled my earphones out. If I was going down, they were going to have to work hard. There would be no sneaking up on me tonight. I noticed one was looking my way. I looked back. I wasn’t going to look away and let them know I was scared
- because I was.
He looked away, and started talking to his friends. They laughed and carried on. I hated the way blacks were so loud and obnoxious. Yes, the train was public transportation, but it didn’t matter. You had to have an inside voice at times. I guess their parents were too busy in and out of jail to raise their children. I looked at the window beside me so I could see their reflections without them knowing I was watching their every move.
As I turned my head I noticed a man on the far side of the train in front of me.
A white guy, facing me.
He had his head down on the chair in front of him as if he were resting it, or taking a nap.
I relaxed a little bit, because I doubted they would do anything with a witness present.
I just hoped that he wouldn’t get off before they did.