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blogloserstidbits-blog · 6 years

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If you’re feeling down...remember there is a still someone in your hometown trying to be a rapper

“He rode up with her riding bitch while blasting "Dear Mama" in a suburban neighborhood at 1 in the morning“

As the title the suggests, the topic of discussion will be one mans dream of becoming the next Eminem. Is that racist by the way? Like the only similarities he shares with Eminem is that he’s white and raps. To my knowledge I don’t believe he even liked Eminem. It’s like when a black guy sings country music and iTunes labels it “Country Hip-hop” even though he has never rapped in his entire life. Got to love the blatant racism from super “open minded” people in a Northern California. Sorry got a bit side tracked there. Back to the man in question, let’s call him MC Squiggles. MC Squiggles developed a love for rap, as many of us did, in the late 90s. He started “spittin rhymes” by middle school and selling his mixtapes (giving away to be more accurate) in High School. Say what you will, Squiggles never gave up. To this day Squiggles is still trying to make a name for himself in the “Underground Rap Game” of the grimy streets of Tucson. By grimy I mean in the literal sense, roads conditions are subpar at best. Anyway, he usually performs in places like hipster coffee cafes that turn into hookah/vaping lounges after 8PM. Which by the way, if you use a vape and you have said something in the realm of “I want cotton candy dank juice with no nicotine” kill yourself. I’ll touch on that later, back to Squiggles. Squiggles has done everything he could to find his niche in hip hop society. He started wearing flashy jewelry and wife beaters. Unfortunately, his Bolex watch (I wish that was a typo) didn’t gain the street cred he expected. He started hitting on chicks on myspace from poor neighborhoods in Tucson to be able to adapt into their culture. It was like if Avatar was set in the Barrio. Though he was successful with his endeavors at least once. Turned out that the girl he was fucking was also fucking with several members of the local neighborhood crips. For those who don’t know, it’s a club for refined gentlemen who enjoy the finer things in life. Just kidding, turned out the girl he was fucking was referred to as a “strawberry”. For those who didn’t take Urban linguistics classes in college, “strawberry” refers to a woman who is “passed around’ and is usually compensated accordingly. In this case compensation was, if I had to guess, was paid in crack-cocaine. She was a fun character to be around. She had a lot of fun hobbies that the two would take part in. She collected silverware from the various white families she was introduced to through Squiggles. She then would proceed to the shadiest pawn shop one could find and trade the silverware for legal tender. That profit usually funded her favorite and most expensive hobby, horseback riding. By horseback I mean crack and by riding, I mean smoking. That said she did participate in a form of barebacking, because after all she was a “strawberry” (see aren’t you glad I explained that meaning?). Squiggles did not become aware of the other guys until later down the road. Which was interesting because she did not hide the fact she was a crack whore. I heard her reference other guys right in front of Squiggles, but he didn’t seem to catch on. In fact, one day they came by my place on his moped he was illegally driving. Just to be clear, he wasn’t knowingly driving it illegally, his justification was in the State of Arizona you only need a license for a car. Which is not the case, never was and quite frankly I still have no idea who told him this. So back to the time they came over unannounced. He rode up with her riding bitch while blasting "Dear Mama" in a suburban neighborhood at 1 in the morning. Instead of calling my cell phone, or at least knocking, the two decided to sneak in through my bedroom. As I awoke to crack barrio bunny and white Tupac breaking and entering through my bedroom window. I figured that they were going to either kill me or ask to hide out for a while. I found out that they needed to talk to me about a possible pregnancy scare. As to why they came to me still confuses me to this day. It wasn’t like I had the slightest idea of how to proceed. They were older than I was, and I was never the voice of reason before. You will find that waking me up in the middle of the night to discuss something that was none of my business was a trend. But for the first time I thought “Okay I’ll bite”. So, Squiggles says “ay dawg, I thought I pulled out or some shit but she pregnant”. So, at this point I figured they took a few tests and they were positive. “Well does anyone know? You didn’t take the pregnancy test at your mom’s house did you?” I asked. “Nah” said the teenage crack baby “we didn’t take the test, I just know I’m pregnant. It don’t feel right”. I asked “oh so you have been pregnant before?” after about a two second pause she replies “Nah”. At this point I’m waiting for them to connect the dots, and have a “wait that makes no fucking sense” moment. Alas that never happened, which at this point it started to make me feel stupid by association. “Okay, let’s say you are actually pregnant. What would you intend to do with it?” I asked. She didn’t want to go to a clinic, but she didn’t want to keep this imaginary baby. So, I look at Squiggles and asked for his opinion on whether he would want to father this imaginary baby. At this point I came to the realization that this wasn’t some fucked up dream I can wake up from, it was really happening. So, I figured to divert the conversation to something that could perhaps get them the fuck out of my bedroom. I asked him “are you sure it’s yours?” with that he looked at me with a look of full sincerity and said “Are you saying dudes be foundlin my girls pussy?” “yes….yes I am” I said, “nah its mine” he concluded. It’s 2:15 AM, after spending a considerable amount of time in my restroom, Latina Whitney Houston came back saying “Just curb stomp my stomach! Just curb stomp my stomach! You disconnect it and I’ll piss it out.” Squiggles says “that aint how that shit works, you need a vacuum or something”. It is now 2:30AM, Squiggles and Cokey McCrackhead are now discussing a possible at home remedy that could replicate what most go to medical school to learn. Instead of medical equipment they thought a hoover duster and a pair of Jordans would suffice. Instead of correcting anyone, at this point I knew she was definitely not pregnant and the idea of Squiggles curb stomping her stomach was looking more and more appealing. I went into my closet, I had a college anatomy book I was given from my parents. I pretended to find the “abortion” chapter, which didn’t exist. I said “hey guys I have this and it can tell you whether or not “stomping” would work. I knew they wouldn’t check, books to them is like bacon to Muslims. I read and said “in theory that is all an abortion is” and how that same practice has been used for centuries. Squiggles turns to his self-proclaimed “shawty” and she looks at me and asked “is it a bad idea?”. It’s now 3:15 AM, I had to wake up in 2 hours, any moral code does not exist in the name of slumber to me. I looked at her and said “Yes, it both solves the issue of not keeping the baby while also not visiting a clinic”. That was it, DJ Trust-fund and pookie rode off into the sunrise on an illegally driven moped and I never asked about what happened next. You may notice I started writing what the various characters say, these are based (if not verbatim) on what I documented from the time it happened. Yes, that conversation took place. No I didn’t add a convenient Segway with claiming to have a anatomy book, I still have that book and the memories of that night with it. So Squiggles was hard at work trying to become the next big rap star. He categorized himself a KC-Motown rapper, that signifies he is a Kansas City based hip hop artist. So you may be asking yourself “wait, didn’t this guy say that this is in Arizona?” To that I’d say “yes” and if you ask why I will say “no fucking idea”. The stupidity aside, he wasn’t that terrible. In fact I found that his technique was good. His tempo was the same as any other hip hop artist I’ve heard, then again I’m no Dr. Dre. The key issue with his stylings was the lyrics, and that was what kept him from his goal of fame. Then again being from Tucson is another great way to remain out of the spotlight. I swear if I’d ever attempt to publish this I wouldn’t get a chance the second they saw I was from Arizona. If I was from New York or Los Angeles all I would have to do is shit on printer paper and I’d get a book deal. Anyway, his lyrics were mashed up life experiences of famous rappers combined into one. It would be like if someone had the same life experience of Eminem, 50 cent, snoop dogg, and Tupac all in one. We are talking of course of someone who was shot 9 times, while being a member of the crips, whose mom was addicted to pills and got killed sitting next to Suge Knight. None of these were what Squiggles experienced in his life. So, it got to the point where no body understood what he was talking about, mostly because he didn’t either. He didn’t base his lyrics on any of his life experiences. No one really cared right up to when he felt it was socially acceptable to say the word “nigger” or “nigga” which there IS NO DIFFERENCE. While his lyrics were stolen from other popular artist of the time, his own life stories were probably best to be unheard. That, however, was not the case when he introduced (or “dropped” as he put it) his new mixtape. As you may remember, strawberry was also sleeping with the local crip chapter (is that how you refer to them?). Throughout her endeavors she picked up a few things other than crack along the way. Chlymidia, among others, were coursing through her veins and she passed them down to squiggles. Squiggles now experienced multiple different STDs that he ignored. While the details become disgustingly graphic, I will let his lyrics explain. “When I asked, she put up a fuss. Asking why my dick be squirting puss.” -MC Squiggles 2010. Thankfully he tested that lyric with a small audience of friends before going to a show……..no he didn’t. Opening for tech n9ne he discovered the only thing worse than saying the n-word, discussing dick puss. The room, who was filled with the “who’s who” of the Tucson Hip-hop crowd (few fat Mexicans drunk on cough syrup), in a state of confusion. “Dat mutha fucker say dick puss?” one crowd member said. The awkwardness the equivalent of someone shitting their pants came over the crowd. Rather than taking a hint, he continues with the STD riddled rhymes, then continued to confess his love for some girl named Kathleen that none of us even heard of. After the chorus fades out and his song ends the room was silent. Then a loud male voice screams from the bar, “Kathleen gave me crabs!”.

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