nikka,..
I am a realer bboy than you, and there is nuffin you can do to surpass that.
now, what chu bytch nikka...
you ain't never in ya life culturally or skillwise been on my level and you never will.
now what,.....
now stfu, bytch.....
till, you become actualized for real on my level,..
stfu,..till that day and even after that day, that will never come, too.
always some bytch nikka, who never did shyt in the culture.
who not apart of the culture talembout some science and know not one cultural more the first about hiphop.
art barr
art barr
thats right....you are a B-b-b-BOY
ole benjamin button, 2nd childhood, still on the outside lookin' in, wanna
be-boy ass nikka with no proof.
the day i "accomplish" and accumulate over 3 decades of skills, yet am reduced to being a hip hop
forum OG ,that nobody really even takes seriously is the day you can burn my body and throw my ashes over the brooklyn bridge.
i have actualized, manifested and I AM the architect and observer....except you won't catch me past my prime keysaving cacs and c00ns that don't even know or remember my existence. who can you call? what can you show besides more worthless keystrokes filled with aged pixels and font.....soul reeking of an imagined what was, but never became?
that's why you're here and NOT THERE.
who the fukk is booking you? who's seeking the prolific counsel of art barr to navigate these murky industry waters?
when's the last time, outside of your silver memories that any of the cultural ambassadors you claim to be peers with, wanted your opinion?
my mother and father were apart of the seeds and birth of the culture. my godparents and their high school/block FRIENDS
are the legends these nikkas keep on their ultimate GOAT list. they were at my backyard birthday parties and my parent's brownstone basement parties.
i was in my PJ's at 6 years old like
rockin' to kraftwerk's trans europe express, with the oldheads.....back when they were the future.
You ever took trips down to SC to MacDougal Correctional facility with your mom as a youngin to visit the gawd Spoonie Gee in prison to hold him down and show him love...kick simple verses back and forth to lift his spirits? Ever peeked in on your pops perfecting and practicing his mix on his Tech 1200's to rock the whole Bed Stuy at Tompkins Park later that night? Your aunt ever broke out love notes and pictures from Grandmaster Flash and hear the stories from her and your mom about how he used to sweat her all the time....but she had a man.
I could go on and on and name drop from the late 80's all through the 90's and 2000's but this is just light shyt....memories from my youth that i cherish. it's all stats to nikkas like you. you ain't a b-boy...you ain't influence and were never apart of shyt. you just a self appointed, unofficial cyber statistician and a fact checker with imaginary ties and connections. you were the prototype for these dikkriding blog fakkits we got today. i ain't gotta leverage my makings and experiences just so you can have it in your memory banks....i already gave you too much with my last few lines. but it is the holidays, so i feel compelled to spread realness and share these personal, candid gifts in hopes of reversing your ho nikka status.
i came from the loins of a true turntableist and was cooked in the womb of a true NY fly girl. my father's father ran with, played and got stoned with Miles all over New York City, 4 decades before I got here.
since incarnated i been initiated....you a fan that wanted to take it further but never made it.
(i ain't even try to rhyme that brehs
)
i surpassed your level the moment i took my first breath, meanwhile, somewhere you were some simp ass jherri curl rocking, high school senior, dark skin jermaine, suede in the rain type nikka with a knockoff members only jacket...
but a nikka was practicing those moves tho
....with a fierce determination to become somebody....rewinding Beatstreet everyday faithfully huh
in your mind thinkin' nikkas gon' be like
and the hunnies gon' be like
and you gon' be lookin' like
but you came back lookin' like
thinkin' you was lookin' like
everybody on the block lookin' at you like
you my 6th grade math teacher mr. stein who thought we wanted to hear him play guitar before thanksgiving ,Christmas break and every other half day or spare chance he got because his garage band ALMOST got signed 20 years ago.
bet he still in school....yapping about the same shyt he paid to
master....
teaching the same stagnant formulas of yesteryear to another generation who gives zero fukks and won't even need it in
actual real life. deep down he knows this....but it's all he's got now. thing is, though his degrees/levels and accreditations keep him believing his life actually added up to something....no matter how long his tenure,or great his knowledge of numbers, he ain't got and will never
create the formulas or the
authority to mathematically increase his paycheck or make his retirement come any faster.
b-b-b-but he's the teacher.....he got the answers
.....meanwhile the "students" left school and forgot those formulas long ago and been making new rules and better moves ever since.
you ain't got the answers art barr.
and there is no official diagnoses ever done. A crackhead will try to sell their baby for crack....so in all actuality, to a crackhead, putting meds in their kids food ain't really even all that bad to them....it's wasting good drugs they could be using
his
He sure mentions Elvis....alot
but nobody but a few will ever know how many tracks he
