Hip hop: I love you.
For what seemed like years I sat alone in a bedroom writing lyrics over hollow beats, expressing my anger. Putting words together that had to rhyme. Syncopated rhymes over syncopated beats. The flow. The release of all my anger, and balled up rage. It needed to go somewhere, so nothing else got hurt.
I was getting hurt. Hip hop, you took that anger from me, and gave my hurt release. You gave my feelings life, by freeing up those feelings I choked on, putting them into words.
Before you, I had loved. My parents pop records from the 70's. Oh yeah, and the occasional "Annie, The Musical" addiction. That touched my heart. But nothing made me feel the emotions you did.
I was hurt, and you were there to save me. You went deep for me hip hop. You were the ointment for my wounds. The salve. It wasn't about party anthems in my house. Oh there were party rockers in our house all right. Doing coke, getting drunk, and beating their kids. So where did we go when we needed a fix? To the room to be alone with you, to listen to the hollow beat.
Hollow beat I long to fill you. With all "this trouble on my mind." You were my dream, my escape clause. In you I was reborn. In you I wasn't a wigger. I triumphed. I wasn't a baby. I was a vigilante. I wasn't a mama's boy. I had control over my world.
It was Public Enemy's "Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos," Eric B and Rakim's "Paid In Full." Ice-T's "Colors," and NWA's "Fuck The Police."
That anger had me relating to you on another level most couldn't understand. You know what? You said it best hip hop, fuck the police, fuck the neighbors, and fuck the people around me who allowed this shit to go down. Fuck the authorities who saw these wrongs being perpetrated on children, and turned a blind eye.
Thank you for being there when nobody else was.
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