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  • The Pseudo Patriot...

    One major difference between the typical progressive and the typical conservative is this: one is "pro" country the other is "pro" planet. Of course, not everyone thinks the same and there are certainly exceptions, but a vast number of conservatives deny climate change and support big oil/coal, often because they simply support the characteristics of the leaders of those industries who often feel the same way (Trump's appeal as well). Being patriotic without being pro earth is like rooting for your favorite sports team but not caring for the sport in general. A typical progressive would be pro sport, and would want to make sure that a few teams and their owners aren't littering in every stadium they visit or dumping their trash on other people's property, Of course, progressives are typically pro country but not at the expense of wiping out other ones, colonizing them, or violating their human rights in the process. It is possible to be pro planet and pro country when the two are in harmony, sure this is idealistic but shouldn't ideals be the guiding principal and help define policy goals and initiatives?

     

    Anyone denying climate change in this day and age is not fit to lead, or is bought and paid for by special interest, essentially just like Trump's ENTIRE new transition team and part of his likely cabinet. However, many people are simply not supportive of critical thinkers and the personality traits often embodied by the people who tend to do the critical thinking. They are not traditionally the alpha-males and many folks are simply just attracted to the alpha male so strongly that they will reject the intellectual man, and certainly the intellectual woman. The anti-intellectualism that threatens to fill our entire government is a call to patriots everywhere. Those who love the country (and planet) should be moved to protest if not to revolution; cataclysmic change is likely just around the corner otherwise. And the revolution will most likely be very televised, as it should be, since it is one of the truest forms of patriotism any citizen can display. So save your tired lapel pin and empty holiday bravado because this is exactly what veterans everywhere have fought for, yet return home to a government that NEVER supports its troops in any meaningful way, especially raising funds for them - then blame the Democrats and enact conspiracy theory when the real cause is all too obvious. But of course this line of thinking would take a little critical thought so conservative Republicans ultimately win the argument, and many important elections as well.

  • Professor Plourde Speaks/Performs at TEDx TALK event in Portsmouth

    Faculty member, Peter Plourde, performing at the TEDxPiscataquaRiver event. Photo by Clear Eye Photo.

    Foundation Year and Undergraduate programs faculty member Peter Plourde, also known as Professor Lyrical, spoke at the second annualTEDxPiscataquaRiverevent on Friday, May 9, in Portsmouth, NH. The event was part of the independently organized TEDx program, which aims to bring the larger TEDbrand to local community experiences. Plourde shared the stage with sixteen other guest speakers and performers, where he spoke, and rapped, about the transformative power of Hip Hop culture and its potential to be integrated into the academic experience, and the media's misrepresentation of Rap music and Hip Hop. 

    Plourde's battle rapper persona, Professor Lyrical, is described in his speaker biography as "an artist and educator known for using the positive aspects of Hip Hop culture to empower citizens to self-advocate for socioeconomic change." Plourde believes the TEDx experience will serve as an opportunity for him to build upon his vision, which he expressed as "to one day open a program or free standing college or university that uses Hip Hop culture as its theoretical lens and cultural backbone while preparing folks in STEM [Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics] or STEAM [Science, Technology, Engineering, the Arts, and Mathematics] based disciplines."

    In addition to promoting his vision of utilizing Hip Hop as a scholastic tool, Plourde's involvement with TEDx hits closer to home. "My work as a scholar-practitioner is informed by higher education's inability to recruit and retain a diverse student population," he said. Plourde further explains his goals within the College and, more specifically, Foundation Year, stating "my work here deals with helping an extremely diverse population navigate both mathematics and university life towards the end-goal of earning a college degree." 

    Plourde's latest album and book combo, which he refers to as an 'Albook,'Put Em All to Shame was released in August 2013, and is available through the Professor Lyrical website. The full Professor Lyrical TEDx performance can be viewed here.

  • Moving Up (an example of how the "albook" works and what it really is all about)

    Some of you who don't have my book or album, may not quite understand what the "albook" is or how it works. So here is Chapter VI and song 6 (Moving Up) together for your listening and reading pleasure. This allows you to see how I provide the bigger story of how I came to meet my wife (through music and education) which of course led to the creation of our Henry! 

    First thing to do is to play the song (and oh yeah Love Jones is my wife and sings on the track)

     

    PUT EM ALL TO SHAME

    Chapter VI- Moving Up

    Crack of dawn-you’ll find me up in the back of the lawn/It’s calisthenics every morning stretching out on the yard/Practicing hard, don’t even need a show to perform/Just put me on any stage-and I’ll be working on form/Running the drills, how I stay sharp with the skills/In the coast of Cambridge Mass, but I come from the Mills/So run for the hills, still, no I’m not run of the—mill/But Lyrical might make a run for your Governor/Political still, we making the mills off of prisoners/I ain’t for the penalty, to many little Hilters/And I ain’t hailing nothing but a cab in the rain/No Chief, plus these Cabinets are hard to arrange/And hard to explain, most are just slogans for change/I be my own role model, in the Rover I Range/Drove through the plains, Logan—even flown on the planes/Or Fung Wah, find me flowing over the tracks on the train—with Shame

     

    I live to record, that’s why they call me Lyrical Lord/Literature that I’ve written, keep em open for sure/Cause over the shores, at first I hadn’t flown before/Scared to fly, now find me on a word wide tour/Shame on the cut, in fact even Shame on the track/ Half the reason of half of Mass got their name on the map/Engraved in wax, Invasion and X-Cal go back/We owe are legacy to Shame, since he came to UMass/Inspired my rhymes, ta write like my life’s on the line/There’s no squares in my circle, keep my cipher divine/My geometry, diameter, circumference divides/That’s why Shame’s on the slice like he serving up Pi/Another tangent, my plan's never to be cosined/Just do the math and draw parallels like equal signs/Speak your mind, please before I throw down/Cause I ain’t trying mess around with you Bozo Clowns/Won’t slow down, ain’t about dumbing it down/I’m Novocain for the brain how I’m numbing the crowd/They loving the sound, cause they ain’t seen nothing around/A little substance could bring the club tumbling down/A little substance in their system and they stumble around/Once I hit em with the wisdom that be so profound/So for now, ain’t tryna place blame on you/Just sing the chorus before I have to sick Shame on you!

     

    This is that highly ceremonial, flow so matrimonial/Imagery, that’s so vivid, the lyrics more like pictorials/Much fame from the rhyming, with substance—no ice shining/Success is…“my wife crying, when I upgraded her diamond”/Never been one trying to ball out to the maximum/Upgraded the iNFiNiTi, dropped the new Maxima/“Sky’s the limit”, Wanted to “push the 45 infinit”/Till I seen the Benz kitted, and pictured it all tinted/Always been the exception, bent rules to adjust them/Addictive personality, verses sent to perfect them/Classics I resurrect em and futuristically twist em/If I Ruled the World, then Nas and Lauren had children/Skilled and Vintage, from the Mill City bodegas/Typically any given, now find me sittin’ at Strega/Tippin’ the waiter major, for making it vegetarian/And pullin’ out the chair for the woman I wound up marrying

    I LIVE TO RECORD

    When I picked up the beautiful, electric-acoustic, Guild guitar my Aunt Terry gave me, I knew there was something magical about the power of music. I practiced the guitar and learned the basics, but I was never that good. I think in fourth and fifth grade I was even in the “guitar club.” The problem was our instructor was somewhat stuck on songs from the sixties, which none of us kids really knew or had much of an interest in learning.

    My father saw my excitement for music and next bought me a very small keyboard at Sears; it came with preprogrammed disco, rock, funk, and swing drum patterns. The next year I got a better one. My father also found an old microphone he had tucked away in a drawer that I would hook up through the Sanyo stereo my parents gave me for Christmas when I was about ten years old. I really couldn’t sing that well, but I tried.

    Later, some neighborhood kids and I decided to form a group called “Chemical Reaction.” Suffice to say, we had no real talent at that point. The group’s days were numbered. Hip-hop was getting more popular and I started imitating songs on the radio, while also creating original reggae songs with my friend Warren. We would listen to reggae and hip-hop on WERS 88.9FM, or occasionally some “classic rock” on cassette (like Chuck Berry) when not shooting baskets. The older I got, and the more basketball I continued to play, the more I seemed to come across others who rapped or lived Hiphop culture.

    I seriously first built with Fee on a bus to an NCAA basketball game I think. He was tapping his seat like a drummer. He did, in fact, play drums, and I told him I messed around with a guitar, keyboard,   and microphone, and that I occasionally sang, or even rapped. He told me his brother, Mike, was also a drummer and his other brother, Mark, played keys. We decided we should meet up after school one day and practice together. My mother drove me to his house on the Lowell/North Chelmsford border. Once I saw where he lived, and who some of his friends were, I figured out how I recognized his face. He was the same guy from down the street, who hung around with the same kids I did when I lived in Lowell on the other side of the North Chelmsford border!

    We started recording some rough “music” at his crib. Fee played drums and I would rap and bring my guitar and amplifier. I wasn’t good enough to play the guitar and sing (or rap) at the same time, so I put down the guitar and rapped over his and his brother’s drum playing. Mark was much older than Fee and actually wasn’t living at the Feehan family home by this time, so we would have our other mutual friend in high school, Gary “Go Go G” Mulkigian, come by and rock out on his keyboard.

    Gary really wasn’t that much of a keyboard player or a musician of any kind, but he liked hip-hop and had a car with a dope system and the best CD collection around. The same was true for our first DJ, George “Kamikaze G” Ali (minus the dope system). George was older than us, had a car, liked hip-hop, and even had a turntable he would occasionally scratch on to make cassette mixes. We would head to the beach in his convertible red Chrysler; even when it was freezing on the highway we would still be pimpin’ with the top down and the heat on high. That was enough for George to qualify to be our first official DJ.

    We soon added more friends to the group. Mark “The Heat” Altenweg was a high energy type of guy who also wrote some dope rhymes now and then—so he was in. Our other friend, Joey B., had a cool voice and was bigger-than-life and everybody loved his personality. We now were a four man rap group and even had the services of a DJ (even though George never spun live for us at a show). We all played basketball together, but at this point, rapping was just something we did to amuse ourselves while hanging out. Still, we all knew that we were just a bit better than we probably should have been, and I truly believed I was creatively blessed and destined to be out on wax in no time.

    These were the beginnings of our first rap crew, which we dubbed “Cruz Control.” This made a lot of sense since Fee called himself “Cruz Master Fee.” We later changed our name to X-Caliber after we heard a group with the same name (spelled Cruise Control) had come out with a song about AIDS awareness. At this point, we started getting a bit more serious about our music. We never really “officially” added Go Go G to X-Caliber because we had so many rappers and he really couldn’t play keys live. He was like our honorary 6th member though, and we would usually rock out at house-parties, especially the ones in his large yard in Chelmsford. Go Go would later make records of his own with help from Joey B while they both were in college.

    We all still play basketball, and a of couple years ago we played on a team together in the Lion’s Men’s League in Chelmsford and took home the title. [i] Most of the teams were far younger and not far removed from high school, or maybe a few years out of college at the most. Knowing each other for so long did not hurt, plus all rappers think they can ball—and vice-versa!

    Back when we were in high school, as a result of hitting up more parties, we met Matt Greene at his own house-party. He had a dope home studio (Project 7) and could play multiple instruments and program drum patterns. We recorded with him for only ten dollars an hour and found ourselves there whenever we had free time and enough money. People started hearing our demos, and soon there were rumblings that we were now an “official” rap group. George was barely in school at this point so we would mostly use tapes of him scratching and add them to the backgrounds of some of our songs to make it like he was more involved than he really was.

    ON THE SLICE LIKE HE SERVING UP PI

    I started getting better at rapping and practiced more and more, plus I also started cutting and scratching on a cheap turntable and mixer I bought from the “Want Ads.” I would buy all kinds of records (normally at flea markets) to spin and sample and scratch. I soon had a decent collection. It was really my homey Def Rock who inspired me to actually scratch better. He was a rapper I looked up to, and as I mentioned before, he could also scratch better than most any DJ. He is also a talented producer and entrepreneur in his own right.

    George fell off from the whole scratching thing soon after this. He moved away into a shadowy world of selling balloons at mall kiosks and reading fortunes. That by itself wasn’t all that shadowy, but his family who indoctrinated him into “the business” was not-quite on the up-and-up with some of their business ventures. He never quite fit in, and disappeared from school altogether—even though Fee and I had tried to track him down several times.

    We added an additional part-time DJ, “Styles” from New York. Joey B had met Styles early on in college while I was still in high school. Styles only really cut it up for us at one show (the high school talent show my senior year), but it was an important show for us and we were glad he came. Style’s qualification to be our DJ was roughly equivalent to George’s. He had two turntables. Plus, he was from New York—which we all were sure meant he had to be good. We somehow thought Styles was our connection to the big city as well. Later, I remember finding out he was from Albany, but may have lived in (or near) New York City as a kid or something—that was close enough.

    My grandparents had taken me to NYC by this time to see all kinds of stuff, including musicals, concerts, and sporting events. I saw people break-dancing and rapping in the streets. I always thought it was the coolest thing to be under the big lights performing creatively and having people pay you to do it. My grandma loved music and had a pretty hefty interest in what I was doing and encouraged me to keep it up. She would watch me write rhymes at her kitchen table and knew I had been infected with the performing bug by that point. I always would tell her when I became famous I would take her for a limo ride. She would also tell me, no matter what I did for work, to keep in mind this gem: “You might be doing it for the rest of your life, so don’t rush, find what you love to do and do it.” I have attempted to do just that. 

    Meanwhile, Fee and I were watching our bedrooms transform into cheap studios and rehearsal space. After making a record in high school and performing it as X-Caliber at the talent show (and at other parties and small events), we started getting popular as a serious group. Fee and I went to UMass-Lowell and started doing shows at the college. I even did a college radio show based on my small record collection and modest turntable skills. Luckily, Fee met DJ Zulu (Bekizulu Mhlanga) while they were both working part-time at the same Dominos Pizza. We quickly invited him to be our full-time DJ. We now had a talented audio guy who actually spun regularly at local events, many of which were large African house parties. Zulu was from South Africa and lived with several room-mates from Zimbabwe in Lowell. Plus, two of them were brothers who could also play basketball. Zulu didn’t play hoop, but lots of times we found ourselves at their house just to play ball at the same nearby park that used to be right next to my old school where I had my “Hulk” escapades. They all were our extended family and rolled with us to many shows and parties.

    It was around this time when I first saw DJ Shame perform at UMass-Lowell in a rap battle. Friends of ours from Lowell were in the battle with us, including our ally Def Rock. Both Shame and Def Rock were very talented, and of course both went on to eventually produce some of my best records. The second song I started on with Shame (“Do You Remember”) features Nicole (AKA Love Jones) singing on the hook. We first performed a rough draft of it at a festival in Worcester. Shame came out to that show and was able to see and hear the draft of what would become the final song on the album.

    The festival crowd actually rushed the stage as we were finishing our set. Jimmy Kang of Str8up Entertainment and Wu-Tang Management was also in the crowd. A few years earlier, he had seen me win consecutive weeks of “Onslaught Battles” at Clark University in Worcester before I got tired of heading out there for only a couple hundred dollars and the same microphone medallion for my chain which I had already won.

    Jimmy was there with his artist, L Da Head Toucha, who was performing a guest set. Shame had years earlier produced L. In my opinion, L is one of the best rappers in Mass history—he is still slept on. This was one of the last artists Shame would produce before getting upset with the direction rappers and the rap industry was going. In fact, I believe one of the beats I picked to work on for this album was originally a beat Shame was producing for L which was never completed.

    Shame felt by doing our project he would breathe life into beats he left unfinished back in the middle-to-late 1990s. He explained how I was one of the first emcees he worked with, since L, who really made him want to produce again. Jimmy and I remain allies in the business, supporting one another’s ventures. We discussed this album before it came out—he loved it. If it weren’t for the timing, (and if Shame had not moved) we likely would have had Jimmy put out Put Em All To Shame on his label and made it a “Worcester thang.”

    HOW I STAY SHARP WITH THE SKILLS

    I later entered many battles when nobody knew I was coming. But to get to the point where I seriously started entering and winning battles like the Worcester ones on the sneak, I had to go through a long process of preparation. It started back when I was in high school sitting in my room with all my equipment and my little DJ set-up, thinking how I could make a name for myself. This led to my acceptance in some local battles and competitions, but later I eventually got so much better at rapping that I decided to enter a monumental battle (The New Music Seminar’s “Battle for World Supremacy”—see Chapter II) which every year took only the best 16 submissions from all over the world.

    I recorded the accapella demo submission in my bedroom and it was accepted; however, the battle didn’t pay for transportation or hotel stay. Fortunately, since I was also the Urban Music Director, the college radio station paid for me to stay in New York the night before the battle. All the Directors at the station were able to go stay in New York City and were put up in a hotel for free (our station went only for two days, but I went out earlier). I went to NYC and didn’t win the battle, but I met many people as a result. I distinctly remember seeing DJ Shame at the New Music Seminar, and this was where I learned he was actually in the battle just a couple of years before. I was impressed, but honestly I figured as much after what I saw him do in Massachusetts.

    I made such an “impact” I was hard to forget and easy to spot at many post-battle after-parties. One person I met was a dope freestyle emcee Derek “Dred” Goodman. He was there supporting his DJ, Ninja, who was chosen to be one of the sixteen DJs in the battle. Dred and Ninja had a nice little local buzz in Boston, but due to Dred’s Gemini personality he had a tough time sticking to any one of the many directions he was pulled in at the time. As a result, he flew a bit under the radar. He heard me say I was from Boston. He then came up to me when I was rapping outside of a club where WU-Tang Clan was going to be performing. Dred and I were both the dominant rappers in the cipher. We exchanged numbers, and eventually I would go see him and get my haircut from him in Cambridge; he became my permanent barber and soon after, one of my best friends. 

    Meanwhile, Fee and I moved in as roommates. After attending college at UMass-Lowell, we wanted a spot where we could record and practice our music as well. By this time, Fee was now doing another radio show at the college. We also had a roommate I spoke of earlier, Dale “Syntax” Chase, whom I mentioned I convinced to move out of his UMass-Lowell dorm. Soon after we made several well-received records—produced in the way Ski had taught us. These records started getting play on many stations (college and commercial) in the Boston area, as well as the rest of the country. 

    We would go see Jimizz at WMBR anytime we came into the city on a Saturday night. He would always give us the honest feedback we needed to assess where we were in comparison to other established acts. This was important because the temptation was always to compare one’s self to local or regional talent. Now, (especially after meeting Ski) we were more concerned with how we sounded compared to the best artists in the business.

    EXODUS TO CAMBRIDGE

    After the buzz from our records died down, Fee and Syntax moved out, and I stayed in Lowell for a short time and started teaching at Lowell High School. I eventually moved out of Lowell and headed to Cambridge after a relationship of mine came to an end. Dred and I were hanging out more and more, and I eventually moved into his family’s multi-unit home. He had introduced me to his niece, Shelley, who was back in her native Cambridge (also living in one of the other units in the house). She had recently become single after splitting up with her husband who was living in North Carolina. She lived in her own apartment in the house as well. We hit it off immediately after we both went on a group trip to an amusement park which Derek had organized.

    Shelley was only two years younger than me with young children of her own (I hadn’t met them all yet, since all but one of them (Deavoni) stayed for the summer with their father). Chance and Demetri are twin boys and were not quite six when I met their mother, while Amari was not quite five. Shelley and I started dating, and eventually I moved in with her, and we lived together for many years. I helped raise her amazing children, who I grew extremely close with. This really helped to change me into a mature adult and I became a much better person (and now a father) as a result of having them all in my life. As they started to grow-up, eventually so did I.[ii] Moving to Cambridge was one of the best decisions I had made up to this point in my life. As emotionally connected as I became with the kids, I knew that if I had children of my own someday that I would be a good dad.

    When I first started working with Dred we formed a company “Invasion Entertainment.” He had always wanted to promote me as a solo act and help to put out some of my records. Most of the shows we would attend in Cambridge were within a mile of the multi-family house where we all lived. These nightclub venues included The Western Front and The Middle East in Cambridge’s Central Square, and later on The Red Line in Harvard Square. I functioned as a promoter of random profitable shows at these spots, and would add “Lyrical” to the bill of many of the shows. 

    Dred and I recorded songs together. We eventually formed “Invasion” with his cousin Jason “J. Scott (AKA Presence)” Scott. Our records “Salt” and “Why,” did very well locally and on the national college radio charts. As a result, we performed at many shows in the Greater Boston area. DJ Jimizz regularly played several of my records and spun for me at shows, but he wondered why I wasn’t also pursuing a solo career like I’d come to Cambridge to do. He was particularly instrumental in pushing me to make my own album. I included him on my debut album iNFiNiTi, and of course he spun at the release parties.

    Fee, meanwhile, had formed a duo with Ruby called “One Love.” We would often do shows together and promote each other (as we still do). Fee had told me about a man named Frank Ingari who had an all-star type of group called “The Tempting Fate Revue.” Frank was looking to have him (or maybe even us) write and perform some songs (with rap in them) for the group to perform at live gigs. I was a bit too busy making my album to be able to help at that point. I had promised many people, like DJ Jimizz, I would soon be finishing my album, but I was behind schedule. Fee and Ruby started to practice with Frank. I would eventually go check out their performances; that decision would prove to be a great one.

    I was now extremely busy working to promote my album. Additionally, I was beginning to do more promotions of my own and with the Mass Industry Committee (The M.I.C). The M.I.C., as I touched on before, is essentially a united coalition of Hiphop artists and entrepreneurs from Massachusetts. We decided to throw an awards show the following year, and this left us doing loads of planning (more than we fully realized we would be doing). 

    My relationship with Derek’s niece was starting to strain. Her ex-husband had moved back into the area looking to be more involved in his kid’s lives. It was nearly impossible to balance my school and music stuff—let alone my family and relationship. On top of all of this, I was still driving to Lowell to teach at the high school. It seemed inevitable something would have to give.

    THE EMERGENCE OF LOVE JONES

    When I was planning release parties, I figured it would be perfect to include Tempting Fate in some shows. I looked on the website of Tempting Fate and noticed a lady with a wonderful smile named Nicole Jones. I read her impressive biography and figured she must be excellent, since it mentioned she went to Berklee as a vocalist, and even performed internationally. I went to see the band play at a show soon after. I quickly would say “hello” to Nicole, or see her in passing—but I always wondered why she was not more heavily featured in the group than she was.

    Tempting Fate was looking to do more and more shows. At the time, I was also promoting a large number of shows and was getting ready to start promoting my new album as well.  I did a release party at Bill’s Bar and then a release party at The Milky Way since I was promoting both clubs. Fee had worked with Tempting Fate to have them learn a few songs, including the title track on my album iNFiNiTi that he was featured on. Tempting Fate played many of my songs live at the Milky Way release party show. I also hired DJ Jimizz that night as well.

    Nicole had to learn many of my songs, including “i” which had a double meaning and some very graphic lyrics I wrote to role play a situation of what happens when artists get too caught up in their own hype. Nicole heard the lyrics quickly and figured I was just another typical rapper. She paid little attention to me, but after our Milky Way performance I invited her to come with DJ Jimizz and me to IHOP for our late night after-show ritual.

    Nicole came and learned about the friendship Jimizz and I had, and she also learned that Jimizz was about to be married! We all learned each other’s philosophy on life, family, kids, relationships, and all sorts of things since Jimmiz’s marriage was the main topic of discussion. I tucked all of that away in the back of my mind. I booked Tempting Fate a few more times at other shows I was promoting, including a couple at the nearby Western Front. Nicole and I always stayed in touch by text or saw each other at show.

    Nicole would always tell Jimizz and me we should eat some real breakfast someday, and that she would make it for us so we didn’t have to go eat at IHOP—which she despised. She was getting ready to move to a new condo and told us she would love to have us over for breakfast some Saturday after his show—once she got settled. As good as that sounded, I was never able to say yes, since my own relationship was deteriorating. By the time

    Nicole finally moved into her new spot I was already out of my previous relationship and had just started a new one that would last a couple of years. A few months after that relationship ended, Nicole had contacted me to invite me to her Birthday party and told me that she would be performing. I always told Nicole I would love to come to one of her shows to hear her sing solo.

    I ran into Nicole at a department store while exchanging gifts I had bought my father for Christmas. This was about a month or so before her Somerville nightclub birthday party event. The store was right near her condo, but before she left to drive home Nicole casually mentioned that we should go check out a movie some time. Soon after, I figured I should just invite her out. We started dating for a short time before her party; it had to be moved (due to her work schedule) to the weekend of Valentine’s Day, even though her birth date is December 22nd.

    I went to the party and met her family and many of her friends for the first time. I also got to really hear Nicole’s beautiful voice in-full for the first time that evening. Of course, I also got to see Nicole looking gorgeous in her vibrant red dress all night too!  Her family’s love for her was on display all through the room on handmade posters with pictures of her and her family. They were covered with notes to her, stating how wonderful and loving a person she was. I saw for the first time that I was not alone in sharing this same feeling.

    We continued dating for a few months. Work was beginning to get stressful for Nicole. I always remembered how crazy it was that she had to delay her own birthday by over a month. Her birthday was just days before Christmas, and her job was super busy that time of year. I didn’t think this was very fair.

    I decided I wanted to let her know how special I thought she was by planning a “half birthday” party for her—exactly a half year after the date of her birthday. She was blown away with surprise, and was actually in tears by the time her half birthday cake was brought out at THE ART BAR in Cambridge. Always playing with words, I chose this swanky restaurant as the letters in the words “t-h-e-a-r-t-b-a-r” contain half of the letters in the phrase “Happy Birthday.” Rather than state it, I tend to go through great elaborate planning or actions to show my love (including the half dozen of roses I got her as well). It was at this moment Nicole knew how much I loved her. It was the first time I told her as well.

    Nicole called her mom that night and told her she had perhaps found her future husband. She would be correct—four months later I officially proposed to her in Miami while attending her co-worker Ellen’s wedding. She was totally surprised because I snuck the ring through airport security.

    I proceeded to get the ring to hotel management and had it presented under a room service tray in the Jacuzzi. It needed to be in the specific room I had reserved so that room-service would know where to go. But our air-conditioner was leaking, and Nicole immediately caught this and wanted to switch rooms. I played it down. She asked me to call and have it checked on. I told her I would walk down to the front desk to get some personal assistance. This was of course to let everyone know plans might change if the unit couldn’t be fixed. I also had to run up to the kitchen to re-coordinate the ring and room service situation. The guy fixing the air condition beat me back to the room, and Nicole was of course wondering where I was. I returned a few minutes later and all was finally back-on-track.

    Nicole was now so tired that she wasn’t hungry and didn’t really want to go in the Jacuzzi on the balcony. I had been talking about it the whole trip to make sure she knew the Jacuzzi was essential. Always a good sport, she got in. But soon after, she wanted to get out. I had moved the rest of the room service food platter (which we had barely eaten) near the Jacuzzi and told her one of the desserts was a special surprise I got just for her. She still had no idea the ring was coming that night, and she was just holding on before wanting to fall out after a long trip. However, she did have an idea the official question would be coming eventually, but not till around Christmas or New Year’s Eve.

    She thought the surprise on this particular night was going to be Florida’s native Key Lime Pie—of course it wasn’t. Instead, it was a beautiful antique-style platinum and diamond ring I bought for her. She loved it so much that she immediately broke out in nervous uncontrollable itching. She leapt up, scratching all over, and then scurried off to the bathroom to go rinse off in the shower! Nicole calmed down a bit in a few minutes and then called all of her family and friends.

    Nicole’s own passion for music led her years earlier to Boston. As an undergrad, she had attended the University of Virginia where she earned her Bachelor of Arts in Music. She became a refined classically-trained vocalist who would go on to perform in many shows. While in college, a teacher inspired her to sing jazz. She graduated from UVA and decided to come to Berklee College of Music to study jazz vocal performance. Luckily, her childhood friend, Chris Crocco, was a guitar virtuoso who first gave her the 4-1-1 on Berklee.  He decided to go there to study guitar. I got to meet him at one of his shows in NYC when Nicole and I were in town. I thanked him for being an amazing guitarist and for getting into Berklee. My thinking was: if he wouldn't have been such a great guitarist, he may never have mentioned Berklee in the first place, and Nicole and I may never have met.

    Something made Nicole stay in Boston, and coincidentally something made me come down to Boston where I would soon feel drawn to Berklee to speak, perform, and attend shows. Later on, I was invited to interview at Berklee regarding teaching a Hiphop culture and rap songwriting class they knew I had developed.

    I think the feeling I have always had inside me to want to teach others what I know is a blessing. It has given me far more than I think I have ever been able to give to others. I knew as soon as I started teaching I was inspiring people—and I liked that feeling. I always have had no filter in the classroom and will discuss any subject if it gets back to my main points. I wasn’t just teaching my students about math or music—I was teaching them about life.

    Something about moving to a location between Harvard and MIT helped me realize I was on the right path by continuing to keep pursuing my own education while performing and recording regularly. I think when Nicole met me and found out I was a rapper and a college professor it was intriguing to her. Maybe she was familiar with having teachers who also did music and was comfortable with that kind of person and respected my same ambitions. I earned my master’s in math a week before I proposed to Nicole. Music and education helped bring us together.

    Nicole and I got married on September 5, 2010. I rapped and Nicole (Love Jones) sang right after DJ Jimizz introduced us as a couple as we walked out onto the dance floor. Frank came to the wedding too. He was like a proud papa helping to have brought us together (we also attended his fabulous wedding on June 8, 2013). Our wedding was the Sunday before Labor Day. I began my first fall semester teaching at Northeastern a few days later. We honeymooned in the Dominican Republic during Christmas and brought in New Year’s there as well. 

    Along with Fee and Dred, Jimizz was also one of my three best men—all of them have been instrumental in my life and career as an emcee—and to some extent as an educator. Today, I am the proud godfather of Jimizz’s handsome boy, Corey Junior (CJ). Nicole and I are now of course the proud parents of our own son, Henry, whom we adore beyond words.

    This story highlights what led me to the culmination of both of my careers—and to Nicole (and the creation of Henry J.J.). The magic I always felt from music was the same feeling I felt for her—so I knew it was meant to be. Together, we look forward to continue raising our own family, and we thank the fates for how it all occurred. I am sure by always following this same instinct I will continue to get exactly where I need to go—even if at first I don’t see it. This will work for you too; try it.

     

    [i] My 3-ball to send it to overtime (in the championship game we eventually won) with seconds on the clock was eerily similar to Ray’s three in “Game 6” to send the series to a seventh game, which of course Miami won. Alright, it wasn’t really similar at all; I just like my name in sentences with Ray and felt like telling you I knocked it down when it mattered—Bam!

    [ii] The kids have all now done very well and made it to college (most of them with very strong math skills).

  • Why can't we all just be "one race, the human one?" Oh my goodness, not that ignorant Boston favorite quote again!

    Disclaimer - this was originally just a run-of-the-mill FB rant I was going to post, so excuse the 20 minutes I blasted through it and quickly decided to post - but it’s late. You all get the point I hope!

    That being said...

    I believe people should challenge voraciously the folks who promote "the world should just be race-blind" and "we are all just one race" to stay true to that ideology. Obviously we all get that ideal utopia, unfortunately, however, those words usually come from the mouths of those who are comfortable with their lives and don't like the real challenge to make those words become a reality. They actually have not chosen to look for, or ironically to see, race based bias, typically because they either benefit from it, or it makes them too uncomfortable due to how they have been systematically programmed. It is effectively "lazy talk" from those who like to imagine that racism is a dead issue - or those who like to think, "Oh why does he have to talk about that again? Can't he just be happy and act like the lighter pigmented person he clearly can't see he is?"

    This kind of thinking can only come from those who reinforce race based bias, intentionally or subliminally. These are likely the same folks who believe if you pretend it isn't an issue then it will go away - sort of like how climate change deniers like to believe global warming will just become a non-issue if we pretend it doesn't exist - that's going real well right? News Flash: the systemic white supremacist foundations of our great nation have not entirely eroded their way out of the books and documents that established law and policy, school systems, norms, and fairy tales. Though the blatancy of racism and intollerance has somewhat retrenched deep into the wells of many a heartland resident's backyards, it is anything but gone. Donald Sterling has been a great reminder of this for some of us not in denial. It is great to see all out on Front Street to at least keep the dialogue alive and relevant, despite many folks' wishes that it would entirely just disappear like many of the old racists themselves (ahhem, Cliven Bundy - former champion of Fox News pundits). 

    Let's just look at Boston, one of the most racially segregated cities on the planet for an urban area with such a highly educated demographic among its constituents. Over 50% of Boston is black (hard to believe if you actually are from Massachusetts and not from Dorchester, Mattapan, Roxbury, or the South End) but if you go to a Red Sox game the eyeball test shows that percent is closer to 2%, or if you go to a Celtics game that percent is about 5%, or if you are a teacher in Boston Public Schools where white students make up only 13% (and that is after thousands of kids of color are shipped out of BPS via METCO or attending private schools) you will see over 60% white faculty - and that is even after a dramatic PR campaign officially and unofficially to try to rectify that problem. Granted there are other systematic biases that hurt society, but none more in your face obvious than 95% of people of color in cities such as Boston all living within a 2 to 3 mile radius. 

    Clearly Boston is not alone amongst these types of problems, but a city with a history like Boston, which only 40 years ago dealt with the bussing fiasco in the Boston Public Schools, is still only a couple generations removed from such obvious racial intolerance. Were scores of white folks trying to support black students back then? Sure, but THEY in that case were the "others" - they (white folks down to get on and ride the bus so to speak) were the minority. Can it really be that now we are so far passed it, that here too in beloved Boston that racism is even close to a thing of the past?

    Take another route. Go look in the financial district and find for me any of these 50+% from Boston working in positions of power, you may find a few here and there, but melanin is grossly underrepresented. So if the world is so color-blind, we need to ask ourselves, "How is that policy working out?" Great if you’re less pigmented, not so great otherwise. This is systemic and is well maintained or "conserved" as a policy. This is in our entire society's interest to eliminate. This is the point I think many miss. Well, some don't miss it, they just KNOW they are mentally, physically, spiritually, or some other "ly" ending word, lacking - and want to CONSERVE their advantage.

    Here is another way to look at it -who would want to win against the Miami Heat when Lebron doesn't play most of the fourth quarter? Let everyone have an equal shot to get in the game. Everyone should want to play fair, and be pushed by our nation's collective best. This is what makes a society truly great and enables such a society to benefit from it's greatest natural resource - diversity! However to get to this point, where everyone is allowed to get into the game, it is NOT a time to eliminate policies that would call for equal opportunity. These are not free-lunches or hand-outs, rather they are much needed policies mandating that historically racist institutions such as higher education and the public school system in general do something to rectify the atrocities they conspired to create. When I see more than 5% faculty of color at many higher education institutions maybe we can talk.  Of the 26 high-ranking universities that responded to a recent survey, black professors made up more than 5 percent of the total full-time faculty at only 5 schools! Emory University in the Dirty Dirty has the highest listed percentage of black faculty at 6.8 percent. However, many of these are not in tenure track positions either.

    The opposition to the ideas I have put forth loves to babble about how "all this race talk pits all the people in this great country against one another, and reinforces bigotry and stereotyping based on race." But if all the, We are the World singing is worth its lyrics and "we are all just equal brothers and sisters" (code: shut up and be grateful its no longer 1953 - or 1853 for that matter) then you would think it is in our best interest to attempt to remove all the legislation and age old status-quo ways of doing things that continuously reinforce the same ole tired and predicable slight on those in the various minority segments living among the greater populous. Burying heads in the ground will not make the problem go away, it will just leave you with sand in your ears.

    When it comes to slices of society (or institutions) where minority populations are accurately, or even overly, represented by numbers relative of this respective slice of the population, it is unfortunate that one need simply look no further than the prisons to see just how "race-blind" the world truly is. Also, the other arena where overrepresentation of people of color comes into play (three times the normal rate) is among cities in Massachusetts where toxic landfills are located. But back to the prisons. Of course it is in communities of color where police presence is most heavy and where people are looking for crime the hardest. Drug crimes clearly occur everywhere, especially on college campuses as I am all too aware, yet they are hardly enforced at the rate which they are in the inner cities. Is it a coincidence that in the institution of higher education we mostly see severe under-representation of people of color and over-representation of the melanin deficient? We also see policy that is clearly slanted towards nepotism, where "legacy" students are given admission advantages simply because their parents attended the schools. So much for the oh-so-loved "merrit based" policies that those against equal opportunistic admissions often cite as their ritualistic creed to reinforce privilege.

    If we want to rightly claim that "we are all one race - the human race", then our BS systematic processes, which grant certain segments of the population less of a right to the pursuit of happiness, should be deemed totally inexcusable by these same folks signing the good song. This utopia is for the select few and is a non-reality by the vast majority of our nation’s minority citizens. The bottom line is we need to engage in more dialogue regarding what we all can do as citizens to ensure the white supremacy (loaded within lovely documents such as the Magna Carta which birthed the racist and murderous idea of "manifest destiny") that founded this nation no longer acts as a barrier to the American Dream. The gatekeeper of the status-quo, for those unfortunately born into high levels of eumelanin, is the "Why can't we all just be one race -the human race?" mantra.

     

     

  • Tell someone if they are wack, instead of telling them to pay for sample clearance and copyrights.

    I am a bit tired of everyone, especially the academic types who like to speak on panels, needing to hear themselves say technically correct things in front of their department heads and other esteemed guests. Stop telling all these young artists trying to come up the same thing like, "You need to get your business plans set, and have your house in order." No they don't, not yet anyway. Find out who they are first, and if they have skills. Trust me- you can't assume they do. That's like telling someone in elementary school, who is thinking about going to law school someday that you really need to work on your suit game now because lawyers have to look officially ready for business. Stop lying; tell them to first be a good student. This is the swag era where everyone believes they are the next big thing, so stop feeding into it and telling them to get their paperwork game up - that only leads them on.

    Kids who fail math every year that want to be rocket scientists need to be told to work on their times tables, not to make sure their multivariate calc skills are where they should be. So please panel folks and conference trolls, tell them if they are helplessly devoted to the wrong craft instead of all the text book mumbo jumbo. All the business planning, and accountants you have on staff, lawyers you have checked with and retained, sample clearance you have gotten, assistant managers, personal managers, agents, business managers, publishing info, and press kits you have amassed won't help either. Nor will the "paid for hits" twitter and youtube pages, social media presence, or soundcloud audio won't do you any good if you are awful. So panel people, stop making yourself feel good by just telling them the default crap about "business" and be honest and tell them the truth. All the business skills in the world won't help them, unless they decide to come up off that side of the mic or camera that they are on and use those skills to BE part of the business side - not the ARTIST side. Not now, not yet, maybe never as an artist - it is OK to tell them and not go all Simon Cowell when you do.

    But if you must be extra nice nice, just tell these artists you have never really heard (because your ears are most definitely not to the street) to go in the booth and record something over someone else's music (yeah I said it). Better yet, why not ask them to flow for you live? If they have skills then you can read them the riot act you learned from Donald Passman books or through countless blogs and sites about how artists get jerked when they don't have their i's dotted. If they are dope however, the business folks will likely start to find them and they will soon know they need to get their house in order. If that is the case then the biggest thing they need is ONE PERSON who they really can trust - yes a hard thing to find. But finding the person they can trust is probably a lot easier than figuring out all the other crazy stuff from music industry 101. But please if you haven't even heard these folks rhyme/sing or whatever...don't tell them to pay sample clearance for anything; why would they want to when their music won't get played anywhere? 

    So young artists who aren't sure if you are ready...again, don't pay anyone for anything but the engineer to record you professionally so that others can hear what you’re doing and evaluate it (and not have to blame the performance on poor production or mics). If your wack (which you likely don't know yet), or if your just below average at best, don't pay a penny to sample clear anything, to copyright anything, to publish anything, because it NEVER will be played anywhere that matters 999999 out of 999999 times. Sure I know once in a while someone gets huge dancing around like a horse or whatnot via Youtube, but that business plan is about as logical as sending out people to buy scratch tickets to get rich quickly.

    I wrote this in like 9 minutes, sorry for any horridly written stuff, but you get my point I hope.

    Thanks,

    Lyrical

  • Sunday Spiritual Post


    Here is my Sunday spiritual post if you will: I do not care what or who you believe in, what religion, faith or philosophy you adhere to. As long as underneath it all you have thought for yourself to ensure that your actions are intended to bring as much good into the world as possible, and as long as you have given yourself fair chance to notice the cause and effect of the universal truth which we all have experienced, namely that when we do "good" it feels good in our soul as a positive reinforcement to keep doing it. By good, it is really a simple definition: doing the right thing, doing the thing that you would want done by another when you find yourself in a similar situation. This is it, and it can be this simple. If we adhere to this, we need not bicker over silliness, over what language your god (whom you have never met) speaks, over what he/she/it looks likes or believes, or lives, or other minutia largely responsible for the military industrial complexes that operate in this world to continue to profit over death in the name of religion (directly or indirectly). Religions and faiths are all the same thing in the end if we simply follow the essence of what I have written above. The funny thing is that what I have written is just another version of the golden rule to do unto others as you would have them do to you. Every major religion in the history of the world believes this core fact, the rest of it is largely either excess print of the same concept or human additions to whatever book you read it out of. It is that simple, be excellent to each other - Bill and Ted certainly had it right.

  • The Sherman Racists

    @D_MUST715 @Tull1210 @DJTheDaddy (just a very small sample of the hate can be found here)

    There are just so many racists twitter handles like these which I shouldn't be promoting, but just in case you are living under a proverbial rock, like all of these people who have posted clearly live under, I wanted to bring some attention on MLK day that the dream still needs to be dreamed. While I don't advocate cyber bullying, it is interesting that people don't at least call folks like this out very often. However, many rappers for example, have no problem calling each other out via social media. But here the enemy of ignorance is plainly in sight and most people don't really do too much in terms of overall bombarding of their pages. Yes, I realize in some cases that they want this type of promotion. But perhaps that can be balanced by the fact the world most of these backwoods folks live in must be so sheltered that they do not realize the vast majority of people do not think like they do. Not to say there aren't millions who do think the same, but I like to dream like Martin that at least MORE people do not. A show of numbers in their direction would be nice or at least more mainstream attention to the fact that one black player amped up excitement after a game on national TV is all it takes to bring these fools out. They are just beneath the surface, but willing to put this (the n word) in permanent ink. And for every kid like this who knows not what vermin they spill, there are plenty more too scared to say it, who may think it. I think exposure is the answer. Am I wrong?

  • Lyrics for the album: Put Em All To Shame

    Entire Lyrics to the album:

    PUT EM ALL TO SHAME by Professor Lyrical


    LYRICAL – “PUT EM ALL TO SHAME”

    All songs: Written and Produced by Lyrical & DJ Shame

    All Songs: Engineered by Robie Rowland, Recorded @ Echo Studios

    “No Doubt” also recorded & engineered by Jared Hancock at Surefire Studios

    Also written & performed by: *=Love Jones, **=Sickmen, ***=J. “Presence” Scott, ****=Chris Huang

    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Chapter I. Get Lyrical

     

    The most sick with it, flows that are so intricate/

    Unlimited potential on instrumentals & instruments/

    "The determination, the dedication and discipline"/

    “The Focuz” never left, just the records get more intelligent/

    Growth exponential, the most exceptional specimen/

    Mental and the physical, both reflections of excellence/

    True credentials, so influential and relevant/

    I choose to be respected, do business as a gentlemen/

    See my profession is “professional lyricist”/

    Professor Lyrical, international appearances/

    Paid panelist, teacher, lecturer, analyst/

    Who nearly every weekend is speaking at different campuses/

    See my advantage is, understanding percentages/

    And represent myself with a bachelors that's in management/

    A few assistants but my persistence - I channel it/

    Ta truly be successful, yet still essentially handle it

     

    -Chorus-

     

    Flows poetical, words evangelical/

    Since Lyrical Lord Plourde was shortened down to Lyrical/

    Cause my material sort of borders on spiritual/

    Songs like psalms, my rap book is Biblical/

    Strong palms- I snatch mics like criminals/

    Delivering strong hooks that stick like subliminals/

    I break down what’s compound to mineral/

    And Elements like Euclid, intelligence I’m using it/

    Mathematically fusing It, rap classes and music with/

    Students at universities, universally proving it/

    Arithmetically, choosing loops in a strategy/

    Like Arabs algebraically battling back the Pharisees/

    Dark matter- my mind travel the galaxy/

    But battle anyone on theses streets, sleeping’s a fallacy/

    Naturally- what I bring ta the tables’ skills unlimited/

    Authentic like Shame on the tables- letting the records spin

     

    -Chorus-

     

    The irreproachable, flow the most notable/

    Clearly the most quotable, lyrically downloadable/

    Local and global respect, but still approachable/

    Lottery pick, blue chip, yet remain coachable/

    My approach to the craft, beyond devotional/

    Beyond contractual, skills are non-negotiable/

    Total perfection my goal- nobody closer to/

    Once Shame laces soul in the tracks that's so emotional/

    So poetical, authentic and lyrical/

    That often other authors want my autographed material/

    Now that's hysterical picture Lebron James?

    In a game signing his name on a ball for Dwayne Wade/

    A Shame, for you to beat me Lyrically when I'm recording/

    That's like tryna cover Jordan on the court while wearing Jordan's/

    Then watching the next morning as SportsCenter reporters/

    Say “no one is more poetic than Lyrical Lord Plourde is”

     

     

     

     

    Chapter II.  No Doubt

     

    Streamline, thinking up lyrics riding the Green line/

    Meantime, sippin’ on Coke, mixed with key lime/

    Free time, 617Live we primetime/

    Unified Theory of rhyme schemes like Einstein/

    "i" in the middle of M.C. for industry/

    June 17th- every year we make history/

    Shame on the tables, had ta bring my man back/

    Early in the nineties when I first heard him scratch/

    First heard me rap, going back through the memories/

    Two mass men in the Battle World Supremacy/

    I was in my infancy, wasn’t ready mentally/

    Mathematically mapped out- retrospectively/

    Life lies ahead of me, all of this was meant ta be/

    93 till iNFiNiTi was all destiny

    Definite with Chemistry, Shame cheffed the recipe/

    ”Jungles of the East”, left a Scientific legacy

     

    -Chorus-

     

    My life's symmetry, balance and flow, precise imagery/

    Master myself and my square- divine ministry/

    Rhymers mimic me, too few authentically/

    Genetically connected to God charged kinetically/

    Father resembles me, Mother Earth's telepathy/

    In harmony with all things- I bring forth the symphony/

    That’s the reason if most probably don’t mention me/

    Any season even in snow, heated with energy/

    My capacities’, much more I’m naturally/

    Adapted to the elements intelligence & faculties,/

    Fully functioning, Universities wondering/

    How ta have me come for the student body and governments?/

    I Try ta comfort them, teach others in front of em/

    Put em all straight in their place while still lovin’ em/

    Stare em dead straight in the face I'm straight buggen’em/

    And sell em more merch when I’m done I’m straight thuggen’ em

     

    -Chorus-

     

    Words impeccable, birth verses incredible/

    Classical, heavy metal, my genres span several/

    Soul is ethereal, swing like Duke Ellington/

    Rock like Chuck Berry, My role- very intelligent/

    Respect level is tough...and you can tell it is/

    Revered by our elders, loved like close relatives/

    Grace the Land with a flow, blow like Elvis did/

    Instrument's held lefty, burn em like Jimmi Hendricks did/

    My main difference is out of my brains spittin’/

    With change the game writtens, insane like Blake Griffin/

    Plus any distance I drain from highly accurate-/

    Highly talented, game is Ray Allen-ish/

    Well practiced and versed, looking instinctual/

    Only cause the work I put in is unthinkable/

    So next time when I'm rhyming at some Palladium/

    Remember all the time that I've put in the gymnasium

     

     

     

     

    Chapter III. How It Should Be Done

     

    Supremely Crafted, routinely mastered/

    Rhyme schemes, conceived in my dreams, my sleep's practice/

    24-7 been dedicated to rapping/

    While still finding time in between for multitasking/

    University Massachusetts my masters/

    Earned the same time making Massachusetts some classics/

    Teaching mathematics and university classes/

    And music with my students the fusion is fantastic/

    But don't confuse it, to battle me, that's a fallacy/

    Sun, I put the Earth on the map in this rap galaxy/

    My mentality, humble is what I have to be/

    Cuz even though I'm known as the best there’s a hundred after me/

    A hunted athlete, dumb to be humming happily/

    When half these crappy, happy go lucky rappers are tragedies/

    One minute I'm hot and the crowd claps for me/

    The second that I'm turning my back, their gonna clap on me/

    So don't grab on me, after I walk past at these/

    Rap shows, the answer is "no" I am not having it/

    It’s not happening, don't know what you expect to see/

    Typically, you'll find me perfecting vectors and matrices/

    Professor Lyrical, my material's basically/

    Made to be poetic yet spoken, more motivationally/

    So any vacancy, math, music or otherwise/

    I'll graph you out my digits like perpendicular number lines

     

    -Chorus-

     

    Who the most motivational, standing ovational?/

    Schooled in how to handle the tool, vocational/

    Mastering the manual, hand you a demonstrational/

    Able to train management, functionally operational/

    Just in case you- were not aware the repertoire/

    Meet your Butta Messenga, Legendary X-Caliber/

    Lord of the Lyrical, sword slicing material/

    Mastering the elements, Hip Hop's imperial/

    Mental meditation, I travel through several layers/

    Envision me cross-legged, somewhere in the Himalayas

    Even though my body is probably sitting in Cambridge

    Sipping coffee with some sloppy professors, acting all snobby/

    Nothing will stop me, from skipping through archipelagos/

    Spitting some acapella - with visual arpeggios/

    Freestyle material - coming to me in visions/

    So I listen, grab a pen, and convert em quick into writtens

     

    -Chorus-

     

    Overall, the whole game needs an overhaul/

    Study my movements, establishing the protocol/

    Who more meticulous? - speaking clear & articulate/

    The &'s my ampersand cuz I'm symbolic & Prince with it/

    White gloved Like Mike, but I'm still leaving my fingerprints/

    On mics so deliberate, some say that I'm Simpsonish/

    If yall don't know the story than you should probably look into it/

    Would probably win the Heisman if music had the equivalent/

    If I ain't one the best then Cam Newton is innocent/

    If dudes wanna test - I will let them cheat and look ignorant/

    This is why they call me Profess -or, just coincidence/

    Cause I just have a way with the words when I play with sentences/

    Even though degrees that I hold are based in numerals/

    Lyrically the way that I R.I.P. is fit for funerals/

    Or musicals, the way that i spit on stages eternally/

    So truthfully a name like "Lyrical" is no Hyperbole

     

     

     

     

    Chapter IV. Do U Need 2 B Reminded? –Featuring Presence & Sickmen of Invasion

     

    My flow’s preposterous-Impossible, novices wanting to copy it/

    Imposters pose Lyrical with their marketing and posturing/

    But, I’m more in the genre of the Dali Lama and Mahatma Gandhi/

    Or maybe Marley's Baby Mama Mixed with some Salvador Dali/

    Literally, Da Vinci with it, lyrics- Leonardo-like/

    Beautiful as a Hale Berry, while leaving with my model wife/

    -A lot of my life, has been dedicated to excellence/

    My regiments have been well documented as evidence/

    I never been one of them rappers bout hate & fear when spitting/

    Now my writtens' more quoted than Shakespeare & Dickens/

    "An architect", erecting up a Taj Mahal marblesque/

    Monument, "a Master of Ceremonial novelists"/

    Mighty as “Hard Rockers" the problem has never been confidence/

    Its modesty too much Cash Money & not enough Marvelous/

    Too many Remy or Aston Martin topics centered on profits/

    So it’s ironic they never be talking bout Jesus, Buddha or Muhammad

     

     

     

     

    Chapter V. Poeteacher -Featuring Violin by Chris Huang

     

    I am impassioned, soul that's old fashioned/

    A classic, a modern day Johann Sebastian/

    Beethovien, flow that's hand woven in/

    With finer strings then you'll find on a violin/

    Stradivarius, Master Artesian/

    On hand-blown glass, my craft is pure genius/

    The multivariate – flow for all season/

    Raps get tracked out on graphs that's Cartesian/

    So Thelonius, James Brown and Coltrane/

    Improper Bostonian, Old school as Soul Train/

    Paying homage to those dudes from old days/

    With Hall of Fame status and vocals like the O'Jays/

    So harmonious, motion so melodious/

    Musical choreography when spoken at the podium/

    The Professor, The Pastoral, Historian/

    Master of Ceremonies Poetical Bacca- Laureate

     

    -Chorus-

     

    The flow's so academia, hooded robe and regalia/

    The verses floodeth over, I'm so Mesopotamia/

    Holder of diplomas & scrolls with gold frames on them/

    Lower in the left hand, signed with old names on them/

    Poems I'm arranging them, paper is Origami/

    Folded over into a pattern sequential as Fibonacci/

    Rap on the instrumentals as lavish as Liberace/

    Elaborate as my bachelor pad- now that’s all behind me/

    Now my wife she lay beside me, so gorgeous upon the sofa/

    Now the Plourde's home aroma is so William Sonoma/

    Pebble grained leather in plaid twill with mocha/

    Mantle match the Mother of Pearl handle and poker/

    Senior Director of Investor Relations, with paid vacations/

    Punta Cana in December, on Christmas with reservations/

    Now we so Golden Ratio, so Alger Horatio/

    Going from "Rags to Riches" replacing what’s on your radio/

    Able to go from amateur, Provost to Chancellor/

    Shaking hands daily with Substitutes and Janitors/

    Soloist at the seminars, Intellectual Lecturer/

    Only one at the podium, known to be standing next to the/

    Mayor with one shoulder, the other's rubbing with debutantes/

    Delegates, intelligent- eat at elegant restaurants/

    Rest of us Ghetto Fabulous...blessings unto my Audience/

    All of my true constituents- still yearning for scholarship

     

    -Chorus-

     

    Highly conceptual, intellectual emphasis/

    Stressed in every syllable- still incredibly delicate/

    Infinitesimally balanced with spacial elegance/

    Save them to place in palaces, frame up my greatest sentences/

    I’m Feng Shui all day, come peep my residence/

    While still real enough for the streets to reap the benefits/

    My recent effort is, reading the recent evidence/

    I've reasoned that we’re needing ta reach the children with deficits/

    So my attention, is focusing more messages/

    Ta get em with the music, and making them more competitive/

    Better businessmen, better at every discipline/

    And better with the letters and numbers for younger listeners/

    So if you’re older and motivated as citizens/

    Then your participation as witnesses isn't "innocent"/

    Your just as guilty if you don’t make them apprentices/

    Complaining you’re too busy, just criticizing the President 

     

     

     

     

    Chapter VI. Moving Up –Featuring Love Jones

     

    Crack of dawn-you’ll find me up in the back of the yard/

    Its calisthenics every morning stretching out on the lawn/

    Practicing hard, don’t even need a show to perform/

    Just put me on any stage- and I’ll be working on form/

    Running the drills, how I stay sharp with the skills/

    In the coast of Cambridge Mass, but I come from the Mills/

    So run for the hills, still- no I’m not run of the –mill/

    But Lyrical might make a run for your Governor/

    Political still, we making the mills off of prisoners/

    I ain’t for the penalty, to many little Hilters/

    And I ain’t hailing nothing but a cab in the rain/

    No Chief, plus these Cabinets are hard to arrange/

    And hard to explain, most are just slogans for change/

    I be my own role model, in the Rover I Range/

    Drove through the plains, Logan – even flown on the planes/

    Or Fung Wah, find me flowing over tracks on the train – with Shame

     

    -Chorus-

    My whole method's-totally flow epic/

    Spend hours on the mic to sound like it’s no effort/

    But give credit, where credit's due - so check it/

    Some of its God given, most of its work ethic

     

    I live to record, that’s why they call me Lyrical Lord/

    Literature that I’ve written, keep em open for sure/

    Cause over the shores, at first I hadn’t flown before/

    Scared to fly, now find me on a word wide tour/

    Shame on the cut, in fact even Shame on the track/

    Half the reason of half of Mass got their name on the map/

    Engraved in wax, Invasion -and X-Cal go back/

    We owe are legacy to Shame, since he came to UMass/

    Inspired my rhymes, ta write like my life’s on the line/

    There’s no squares in my circle, keep my cipher divine/

    My geometry, diameter, circumference divides/

    That’s why Shame’s on the slice like he serving up Pi/

    Another tangent, my plans never to be cosined/

    Just do the math and draw parallels like equal signs/

    Speak your mind, please before I throw down/

    Cause I ain’t trying mess around with you Bozo Clowns/

    Won’t slow down, ain’t about dumbing it down/

    I’m Novocain for the brain how I’m numbing the crowd/

    They loving the sound cause they ain’t seen nothing around/

    A little substance could bring the club tumbling down/

    A little substance in their system and they stumble around/

    Once I hit em with the wisdom that be so profound/

    So for now, ain’t tryna place blame on you/

    Just sing the chorus before I have to sick Shame on you!

     

    -Chorus-

     

    This is that highly ceremonial, flow so matrimonial/

    Imagery, that’s so vivid, the lyrics more like pictorials/

    Much fame from the rhyming, with substance- no ice shining/

    Success is… “my wife crying, when I upgraded her diamond”/

    Never been one trying- to ball out to the maximum/

    Dropped the new iNFiNiTi, upgraded the Maxima/

    “Sky’s the limit”, Wanted to “push the 45 infinit”/

    Till I seen the Benz kitted, and pictured it all tinted

    Always been the exception, bent rules to adjust them/

    Addictive personality, verses – sent to perfect them/

    Classics I resurrect them- & futuristically twist them/

    If I Ruled the World, then Nas and Lauren had children/

    Skilled and Vintage, - from the Mill City bodega’s/

    Typically any given, now find me sittin’ at Strega/

    Tippin’ the waiter major, for making it vegetarian/

    And pullin’ out the chair for the woman I ended up marrying

     

     

     

     

    Chapter VII.  It’s A New Thing

     

    This is the track that us kats can rap to/

    That kats in the back wanna tag and graf to/

    BBoys coming in their matching track suits/

    Get down on the ground and spin around on their backs to/

    Techniques, DJ’s will scratch to/

    Mix and match to learn to adapt to/

    Youtubing it, video interviewing it/

    Improving it by noon a 100,000 are viewing it/

    Dude, I ain’t really tryna revive old school/

    Just tryna reach the kids and keep em from going postal/

    Cuz how we supposed to do what we supposed to?/

    When the youth ain’t close to you & won’t approach you?/

    You want results in the schools- teach ProTools/

    Then teach em bout the waves and the phases we go through/

    Then in math class, teach em ta rap fast/

    Percentages, investments, street scams and NASDAQ/

    Cause in their backpacks, probably the sad fact/

    These little Soldier Boys, they ain’t checkin’ for RasKas/

    But how they supposed to if they ain’t spoken to?/

    When even at open houses their folks feel “spoke to”/

    Unapproachable educators wont coach em through/

    Lack of role models when schools ain’t multicultural/

    I ain’t insulting you I’m tryna reach the multitude/

    Children is the future so it really isn’t up to you/

    What they wanna do, but I can probably promise you/

    The language of the world universally is musical/

    You keep preaching them Parish Sermons that’s beautiful/

    And I ’ma keep pressing EPs- Business as Usual

     

    -Chorus-

     

    Politicians are missing the whole point,

    They ain’t seeking votes, we seeing them finger point/

    Crab mentality, like cats who used to battle me/

    Who couldn’t really beat me, just wanted me beaten badly/

    Mostly physically, flows be too mentally/

    Upon a higher plane, to remain the same Enemy/

    Change identities, neighborhood celebrities/

    Superhero disguise the eyes they show integrity/

    Independently, Democrat or Republican/

    You need to pay attention to people running the government/

    Cause elected officially initially/

    Sometime still forgets effective immediately/

    And the media can be so deceptive/

    Over-sensitized attracts our attention/

    So pay attention to station’s agendas/

    And how they pit us against different races and genders/

    Just remember the words of Bambata/

    “Have fun, love, unity, peace,” and keep karma/

    And keep honor on ya like armor/

    Faith in the most High and we’ll rise like Obama

     

     

     

     

    Chapter VIII. This That -Featuring Sickmen

     

    Who got that ill serial killer skill material/

    Musical translucent flow, almost ethereal?/

    It’s “Lyrical-culus, wrong kat to battle with/

    My mathematical talent's more ancient than an abacus”/

    The most miraculous, lyrics upon analysis/

    Dope beyond reproach- that's overmatching all challengers/

    Quote myself cause there's no other analogous/

    No other professor with feather pens and calluses/

    Palace ofl X-Caliber jousting on wild stallions/

    The Ponce De Leon of the fountain pen battalion/

    Mic medallions swing loose with valiance/

    A trophy wife- my ring finger is platinum/

    I feel it’s obvious skilled as non-novices/

    The oppositely typical hobby for home offices/

    This is that positive, Bobby Brown, prerogative/

    Quietly understated yet overwhelmingly confident

     

    -Chorus-

     

    The young Spartacus, future Pulitzer novelist/

    Never was once a novice, was born with a sense of awesomeness/

    Improve the art like a view of the tomb of Mausolus/

    Authoring logarithms more beautiful than the nautilus/

    Touch the pencil to Temple- I am Artemis/

    Topics that's architectural, building our greater consciousness/

    Ain't got the foggiest, what I'm saying? It's obvious/

    But you can bob along or just nod your head with the audience/

    Enjoy the ambiance, now you hear where the party is/

    Cause with some call and response, I turn mausoleums to Mardi Gras

    With one caveat, never eating no caviar/

    I’m good up in ya Marriot, courtyard with a candy bar/

    Cause I’m a normal dude, yeah I like foreign food/

    Rooms with a view, but you don't have ta act all formal dude/

    I'm for the multitudes, find me teaching multiples/

    At multiple college universities on the humble dude/

    Been in a few magazines, graced the cover too/

    Used to tryna MAC on that cheese and chase them comfort foods/

    So in a month or two, maybe like a year or more,

    Check for the professor and you’ll probably start to hear me more/

    So please cheer me more- If you feel I'm dope/

    Cuz half these rap kats are Demi Moore, better when they Ghost

     

    -Chorus-

     

    My advice is why try and fight this?/

    Nicest metaphorical lyricist since Christ was/

    Preaching parables, running through endless battle drills/

    Military intelligence- scuba gear and a parachute/

    Running through obstacles without the use of opticals/

    My early morning workout is more like mission impossible

    My total disciplines keepin’ my subjects interested/

    Feminine intuition- I learned it from all my women friends/

    Invited them over cause they made my writing doper/

    Had 2 of em on the sofa, now they fighting to push over/

    Tryna to get closer cause they think I’m on some sexiness/

    But really miss- I’m really just a lyrical perfectionist/

    My only question is sensatory perception/

    Hypnotical suggestions and learning the true lessons

    Confessing ta priest and High Priestess of my genius/

    My wisdom was obtained from the knowledge that trained Jesus

     

     

     

     

    Chapter IX. Obvious

     

    Intense clarity, you are viewing a rarity/

    Glaringly till it’s obvious/novices don't compare to me/

    Fairly remarkable, how there is no one comparable/

    Unstoppable how I clobber competition is, comical/

    Bunch of comedians needing someone ta laugh at them at/

    Don’t even know their talent is/like one of the many Kardashians/

    Too many are actors and not enough of them practicing/

    Actually wanna be rappers just think its magically happening/

    Well I got news for them, skills I have are unusual/

    Musical super human more scripture than all Jerusalem/

    Improve perpetual, always room on my schedule/

    To better myself and my level of lyrical skills beyond incredible/

    Evoking excellence, sentences that I architect/

    The consequence, awareness of upper levels of consciousness/

    Confident of responses from audience's at concerts is/

    All positive, but that would be almost stating the obvious/

     

    -Chorus-

     

    Categorically - Lord Plourde's the authority/

    Majority of topics, got Hip Hop seniority/

    But more importantly, more and more are boring me/

    Forcing me, taking action, cause half of them's rappin' horribly/

    Sucking orally, suddenly, something's morally/

    Wrong when "Liking" songs to be "Friends" is called "Supportin'" me/

    Once it’s forcibly reinforced, your forcing me/

    To possibly, "Unlike" you in real life -like broccoli/

    Get all brolicy, follow a new policy/

    Cause honestly, most rappers are babies who whine colicly/

    Wanna be callin me "hater?” I probably know what the problem be/

    "Hit Lyrical up on Twitter, I'm bitter he wouldn't 'follow me'"/

    Well yall can swallowing, orthodontistly tonsil me/

    And anonymously call me and offer some deep apologies/

    Tell me your sorry, all softly speaking all wobbly/

    -Yall oxymorons- seriously be comedy

     

    -Chorus-

     

    Virtuosity, you are viewing a Prodigy/

    Putting them, all to Shame with a higher level of artistry/

    Our whole philosophy, simply to do it properly/

    Ironically somehow in Hip Hop, now that’s a novelty/

    Meet the, anomaly- one of the most modestly/

    Known names producing I'm introducing ya properly/

    To one of the most copied, so it's shame on, them/

    Spinning, them two tables I got Shame on them/

    One of the most fabled, imitated and borrowed/

    But shame would never say it he's, not a man of bravado/

    The Vinyl Reanimator it's the mixer extraordinaire/

    Battle winner and digger all biters beware/

    The type that is rare, ability, mixed with humility/

    Skills that pay the bills, more consistent than utilities/

    Simply I turn the tables now on DJ Shame/

    How nice you are up on the slice homey, please explain 

     

     

     

     

    Chapter X.  Flawlessness (Acapella)

     

    I am built for this with the skills and will travel/

    While yall "Semipro" with your flow, your Will Farrell/

    While my "Desire" is more higher than Pharoahe's/

    I am- not the typical rapper rapping about buying apparel/

    But- I stay fly whenever what's fly's classic/

    But It’s obvious I'd rather be drop-in on taking classes/

    I'd rather travel the atlas speaking at campuses/

    Talking about these labels instead of what labels on my pants these "is"/

    And I ain't knocking rocking primates on your pockets/

    But its obvious monkey see monkey do, when dudes go shopping/

    If you got it- drop a deposit on a vacation in the tropics/

    Cause a trend will come and go, but half of this stress is mostly nonsense/

    I've done concerts at colleges round the continent/

    Had continental breakfasts, at several different conferences/

    Corporate endorsements, with several of different sponsorships/

    All cuz these acapellas I prepare are spit with flawlessness

     

     

     

     

    Chapter XI.  It’s A Shame -Feat Love Jones

     

    Successful, sounds so stressful/

    That’s cause the industry we swim in's a cesspool/

    Woman are slaves, getting abused like sex tools/

    As lames gas em up like the price of jet fuel/

    The game's a mind field we all must step through/

    So guess who's- coming with all your rhymes to the rescue/

    -So clever, so fresh, no next dude/

    Could ever being doing it better if they cloned me in test tubes/

    But that's the problem homey somebody went and dressed you/

    With some designer name they went and pressed on your sweat suit/

    You’re not alone my dude, everyone else too/

    They show us on TV, we doing just what they tell us to/

    We all gelling to a tendency Central/

    Like Comedy- how television’s holding our mental/

    Mind control, taking over our pencils/

    Till the rhymes are all the same and we just change instrumentals

     

    -Chorus-

     

    The consummate professional, in concert or processionals/

    My vocals in a zone of their own - exceptional/

    So I take exception to anybody suggesting/

    That I would ever settle for less than total perfection/

    No question, the talent level is staggering/

    And proof of what a human can to do when we choose to master it/

    Choose to imagine it-, viewing your future happening/

    Establishing yourself and your music beyond comparison/

    Beyond the packaging, industry manufacturing/

    Swagger that’s artificially flavored faker than saccharin/

    Lacking the judgment, and presence of moral character/

    But listen I ain't judging, it’s probably poor parenting/

    Poor handling, horribly poor management/

    These poor adolescents need lessons in how to handle it/

    Promoting these acts as young, stupid and arrogant/

    Till insecure rappers act immature and embarrassing

     

    -Chorus-

     

    I summon the power –of the souls before/

    For I am the sum of power - of my father’s four/

    My heart is pure, my mother that I love and adore/

    Gave birth on this Earth to a Lyrical Lord – Plourde/

    So scholarly, flows none can follow me/

    Known for the way that I wail like Bob Marley be/

    So topically before my time/

    That I’m forced ta wear black to absorb my shine/

    Rhymes, revolutionize –do what I please/

    I’d rather die on my own two, then live on my knees/

    Do -what I believe, through time to achieve/

    Since preschool dude I presumed ta lead/

    I- never drank, never smoked no weed/

    I-just simply wrote rhymes and continued to read/

    Continue to bleed for the cause where it out on my sleeve/

    Cuz we all still slaves ta this Wall Street greed/

    Indeed, we just a few kids writing on your city blocks/

    Waiting on the public pools before somebody is getting shot/

    It's all budgeted, cram em in, crush em in/

    Turning up the heat, murder, then it’s no wonder it's/

    All poor folks, Boston to Norfolk,

    No joke killing our own, selling them more coke/

    Endless suffering, kats out struggling,

    Smothering each other popping Aspirin to Bufferin/

    But don't spend it if you ain’t got it, don't cop it/

    I see it dropped too often on a youngin’s coffin

     

     

     

     

    Chapter XII. Love Life

     

    Know for the most part, some is feelin’ ashamed of rap/

    So for the record- that’s why I called Shame for track/

    To blame it on rap? That’s probably a little to far/

    In the hood when these dudes go and shoot up a car/

    They never, ask the question “where the guns come from?”/

    Or ask the Governor one time “Where these drugs come from?”/

    I just come from another friend’s funeral this month/

    And plus at hip hop shows these dudes shoot up the club/

    Your beautiful love, why you tryna hang here for?/

    All night I’m hearing music calling woman a wh*re/

    She like “That’s all right I’m just supporting my man/

    Tryna ride or die and hold it down for my fam”/

    Listen- it’s all a plan in every urbanized district/

    Downgrade the services, jobs not existent/

    To keep us over the threshold of poverty/

    It’s practically impossible owning your own property/

    Receiving yourself a quality, education is probably/

    Harder up in the hood when these good school’s majority

    Places the priority, on improving the economy/

    Their tax base erasing what's faces most minorities/

    It’s kind of sorry, when if you have to move here/

    When even sports owners know, they having to revenue share/

    Continue to care, I’ll send you out a prayer for us both/

    A little patience, have faith and just let your stress go

     

    -Chorus-

     

    It’s like sometimes we trying ta plan the best for our seeds/

    And give em, some water to grow in their time of need/

    Even, rhymes they need they ain’t hearing no more/

    Cause Hip Hop’s now controlled by the sponsors of tours/

    And the media is owned by the same big four/

    Universal’s GE, of course supporting the wars/

    So it’s importing for, every gain that they make/

    And every music video they go and produce to be fake/

    You need ta, take your time try and age like wine/

    Cause all these overnight success stories simply is lies/

    And ladies all these dudes tryna get in your thighs/

    They ain’t bothering doing the fathering they simply gonna slide/

    Cause if he done respect you, he wouldn’t of sexed you/

    On the first night he met you, next day wont text you/

    So hear my plan let me lecture the next dude/

    So little man here can tell it next to his nephews/

    I know she fine and she look all good/

    She need a real man to hold her one who look all hood/

    Listen- she need a man with his head in a book/

    One who tryna get ahead instead of be checking his looks/

    Look, one whose responsible, by any means possible/

    One to hold her hand when she’s over at the hospital

    Holding down a job and holding it down for her/

    And shower her like God’s gift with frankincense and myrrh 

     

     

     

     

    Chapter XIII. Put Em All To Shame

     

    I’m vegetarian, I never have meat on a stick/

    I choose fruit, never loose, never beef over chicks/

    I keep it biz, never personal, endorsing your commercial to/

    Sell more of my own, in reverse a role reversal of/

    Fortune on the cover of Forbes before I’m 44/

    I’ve been in the Source before, it opened up doors/

    I want more, than just material, music up on your stereo/

    Lyrical cereal replacing Wheaties and your Cheerios/

    Heroes to me were people like Ida Wells/

    And Nelson Mandela, thirty years in a cell/

    I learned to rhyme well, listening to Kane and Rakim/

    The training begins, I started lifted weights in the gym/

    The brain of a kid, running wild like a slave on the run/

    Illusions of my own freedom, got me speaking in tongues/

    Like teachers and nuns, or preachers with guns/

    Beat us religiously, until your concept of individual identity/

    Is blended into the melting pot, felt not a thing/

    15 years later, all I see is the bling/

    The poetry’s gone, listen I wrote so many songs/

    With so many bars, it’s hard for me to know em apart/

    So where do I start? I file em by class and type/

    And memorizing them in my head in my class at night/

    The classic type- of rapper who’d be glad to fight/

    Battle anyone, and teach em how to rap more tight/

    A sight for sore-eye fight for the poor/

    With eyes on the prize, I’m sure of what we doing it for/

    Humans are more, than we thinking we are, twinkling stars/

    Metaphorically the truth lurks in knowing your start/

    Knowing your art, Noah’s Ark alone in oceans of dark/

    Closer to quarks in the heavens than a boat at the dock/

    Hoping to start, mad discussions on the start of it all/

    9 dimensions of the world, holding time in a ball/

    A fly on the wall, listening to all of yall squawk/

    Like a bunch of wining kids who lost their ball at the park/

    Spark the cipher still, writer whose ill, mergers and business deals/

    Forget the land fill want 40 acres up on Sugar Hill/

    I’ll walk into the office of a corporate exec/

    With force of a tech, and hit him in the forehead and step (with knowledge)/

    Weapons kept, like Magic and Bird, below the jersey/

    Extra heavy mad legend like Larry, Dirty like Harry/

    Now I carry black Mike’s in a case, my mic in a case/

    Just in case a player want to take it on stage/

    Make my way towards a doctorate, make a tender offer than/

    Buy myself a corporate apartment with Boston offices/

    A view of the Charles, maybe two in Nepal/

    Meditating like a Buddhist, find solutions for all/

    Youth at the mall, they don’t have a clue at all/

    Looking for some sweat suits and some shoes to ball/

    In two to four, we old enough to send them to war/

    The Senator’s wrong, he better start amending his laws/

    Cause his son shops at the same shop for Armani’s at Copley/

    With speech and dress a little more properly/

    Pronounced than the rest of us, in a fancy restaurant/

    Eating his croissants, thinking about the new shoes he bought/

    But he forgot, his pops that is he voted for war/

    To get him voted for congressional doors/

    Now North Korea’s going nuclear, in moments like these/

    We always send a few thousand more kids overseas/

    So how can it be, got little kids fighting at all/

    Don’t like it all, rich or poor, you’re still to small/

    Go back to the mall, shop at Barnes & Nobles and read/

    A book about the world we live in so global indeed/

    Locally need, more rappers who can read and write/

    Believe in the fight, instead of just believing the hype/

    So leave the mic, until you can rock it like this/

    And think you have something positive to possibly give - kids

     

     

     

     

    Chapter XIV. Do You Remember? -Featuring Love Jones

     

    For years Hip Hop has been lost in ‘stagnicity’/

    Cross over pop that lost authenticity/

    Eventually, grade school rap so elementary

    Mirrors our educational institutions identically/

    Eric B & Rakim, now ‘Whistle ta different Melodies'/

    A force now divorced like KRS & MS. Melody/

    Now Clear Channel and Viacom own everything/

    Reality is MTV - check the scheduling/

    We all obsessed with the private lives of celebrities/

    Privatizing everything -bastardizing the 70's/

    Got advertising executives living in luxury/

    Irresponsibly sponsoring causes of death and poverty/

    I know probably people think the majority/

    Of what we choose is freewill but not in no monopoly/

    Those with seniority, can manipulate minorities/

    By views that they choose on the news spewed dishonestly/

    We've lost authority - Hip Hop's now morally-/

    Challenged we trade our talents for small salaries- always/

    Similar businesses, using viewers and listeners

    Systematical slavery, institutional prisoners/

    Confusing us like idiots, most of us act like children/

    Braggin’ bout what we selling' inside of our own buildings and/

    Actin like buildin’ is totally out the question/

    To busy actin like we be grossing millions no question/

    Here's my suggestion, ta some it may sound blasphemous/

    We need more activists, rappers who rap passionate/

    See I ain't bashing another rapper like Fabolous/

    Just simply saying some of us need to spell it more accurate/

    With more confidence, mathematics like calculus/

    More congress law and politics interest in the establishment/

    Reestablishing what we gained from our guardians/

    And passing it on down again reacquainting the audience

     

    -Chorus-

     

    This ain't one of them club jams/

    This is more for the symphony/

    Orchestras in the mezzanine for the musicians having epiphanies/

    This is history, literally in the making/

    Choosing the red or the blue pill, Lyrical up in the Matrix/

    These are true skills, but still routed in basics/

    Charting the constellations, doing the manual calculations/

    Best seller potential on instrumental arrangements/

    But probably never will be until I'm named one of Oprah's favorites/

    Until that day comes its endless preparations/

    Advocating for reparations through community rehabilitation/

    Civic engagement, improving our educational/

    Institutional situation through constitutional compensation/

    Where standing ovations are the show of appreciation

    And the positive affirmation that we have achieved communication/

    Throughout the crowd and perhaps across humanity/

    Substituting humility into our swag instead of just vanity 

  • Click this arrow to the left. "Consider It Art" I recorded this in 2001. I have a cool idea, but I may not act on it...

    1. Click this arrow to the left. "Consider It Art" I recorded this in 2001. I have a cool idea, but I may not act on it...

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    I like this track Consider It Art. I first recorded it with Bob Nash at his original Wonka Sound. Well I laid it down with rough vocals. Then I redid it over at his newer spot, and then I redid the vocals with Nelly Pro at Scratchismz in like 2004 and released it on my 2005 album iNFiNiTI. Caz-1 produced it with me using records I gave him that I got from working as the Urban Music Director at WJUL that I would order double copies of. Actually the scratch from the record comes from TDS Mobb, which I already had. But the point is this....

    Why not make an album, or a compilation, whatever of old songs with new lyrics?  In other words like an all remix album using original instrumentals with all new lyrics. So I am saying just keep the hooks on some of them the same, and update the lyrics. Normally I try not to make dated references. But now listen to this song and observe the athletes no longer in Boston, the references that are ten years removed at least, and the actors who have died! Crazy to think how much has changed in the world since then, not to mention within my own career. 

    Though I am a big fan of this song of mine, I would totally say something different for the verses now, and feel I have improved quite a bit. Yet this song, flow and style wise for me, is not much different from a couple songs on the latest album I did on the Put Em All To Shame album (even though that album is intentionally based on a true school classic approach to production that was also featured on Consider It Art. Anyway, I think I am going to do this someday, not sure when. But it would be fun to record over my own instrumentals and redo the lyrics to at least a few.

    What should I name this other than a remix to denote exactly what it is?  I was thinking calling it "The Rewrites" or something in that vibe. Perhaps "Lyrical re-writes the past" I don't know, I am open for thoughts though. Peace.

  • What the music, or magazines, are telling us about rap music and how good it is for us.

    RAP MAGAZINE ADVERTISING.

    I think it is just as important to conisder the source, as it is to consider the ads in the source. Now by source this is somewhat double entendre since I am talking about rap magazine advertising. But this sample was of a current competitor's magazine.

    By my quick count of this rap magazine, which I feel no need to even name (I bought it so I must, at least, sort-of like it), seems to be telling us about the intent of the music and its content and demographic.

    Add breakdown what the music is selling, or what is selling the music

    (not couting DVD/CD/Music ads, or other product placement/endorsements)

    18 (Hair, clothes, hats, sneakers)

    8 (alcohol)

    3 Tires/Wheels/Rims

    3 Jail Calls/Inmate Services

    3 Sex/Dating Chat lines

    2 Watches

    1 Speaker system

    1 Tatoo company

    1 HIV Testing

    1 Male enhancement pill

    1 Viagra

    1 High School Diploma (gauranteed in 4 weeks)

    1 Audio College

    1 Prison Official Pen Pal List

    1 Car

    1 Cigarette company

    So take the content with a gram of coke, I mean grain of salt, it probably isn't all that healthy after all.