my mom’s name is Oshun. she’s a beautiful dark skin tall woman. big lips. nice eyes. natural hair. she loves fashion. she loves food and was the best cook around. she was very welcoming and loving. a total protector. she loves vacationing. she loves the fast life. my mom was a single mother and was holding it down. she never needed anything from anyone. she always made a way. or she made a way the best she could. i mean we never went a day without eating but there were plenty nights i went to sleep with my stomach grumbling. but we were happy. me and her. we made a way. didn’t have a TV growing up. didn’t have the nicest clothes, but it was okay when i was young.
my father’s name is Idi. left when i was young. before i can remember anything about my adolescence, pops wasn’t around. poppa was a rolling stone. he was a light skin guy. dark eyes. fade. he knocked down my momma and kept it moving. pops was a thug. he was a drug dealer. he was about that life. so my dad was always on the move. i never met the guy so this is all coming from my momma. she told me pops was feared. he was like Omar from The Wire. but instead of the shotgun Omar was known for, pops was known to always carry his hand gun. that was his love. the only love he had. he fingered it any time it felt lonely.
my parents met one night at the club. she was dressed up, rocking her babu from head to the toe. she came solo just looking to chill. a lot of dudes that night shot their shot. she talked to maybe 5. all had desires of taking her home. she met this one guy named Mansa. dope guy. he was very financially literate, intelligent, Pan-Afrikan. he cared about his people and the world. but he wasn’t about that life. he was the guy who she shoulda pursued, but it wasn’t. then came pops. he bought her a drink and they started talking. chopping it up. he had his grill on the side of his ear. he rocked Jordan’s and a Louis Vuitton belt. flashed his money. they left together. while outside heading to the car, some dude from earlier whistled at my momma and you can imagine what my pops did. without acknowledging that this was a guy who she spoke to earlier, pops went up and “talked” to the guy. it ended up with the guy cutting my dad on the face with a pocket knife and then him getting shot in the leg and shoulder by my dad. took the guys chain and everything. he was scarred for life right below his left eye but my mom was so turned on by his thuggish ways, she fell in love then. that night i was conceived. they went to San Francisco every other day. they went to Monterrey Bay for the weekends. they went to Pismo Beach to have fun. he paid for everything. yeah he hit my moms a couple times but moms was loving the life. pops was loving the sex. then moms found out and told him she was pregnant.
months later, i arrived. in December. pops saw me and didn’t approve. he knew he wasn’t gonna claim me from the gate but he said “that baby ain’t mine. i’m light skinned and that baby there is dark so it’s momma’s baby, poppa’s maybe.” that was the last time my dad looked at me for more than 5 seconds. he bounced.
growing up, moms was a hustler. she cared deeply for me and just wanted the best. she tried to keep me away from the streets. as i said before, i had everything i wanted. but not everything i needed. i needed a pops. i needed a male figure. moms tried and did everything she could. she did what she thought was necessary. but only men can raise men. so at 16, i hugged the block. i started slanging dope. ain’t nothing. moms figured i was when i would come home late with new kicks on my feet and gold chains and rings but she didn’t say anything because i also came on with groceries. i provided. i was flashy. i didn’t care because i knew i wasn’t gonna get touched. my crew had a reputation for killing for me. going to war for me. in fact, i never had to use my gun before. i was the man of the house and the man on the streets. the only thing my momma would tell me before i leave was to stay dangerous.
my gun of choice was a .38 snub nose. it felt right. perfect size. perfect impact. i just got it from an OG on the corner who told me i needed it if i was pushing dope.
it was April. the block started to get hot so i calmed down a bit. my product was the best. i knew it was. competition knew it was. so i was the man. to these fiends, i was their momma, their daddy, i was that nigga in the alley. i was the doctor, when in need. want some coke? here’s some weed. i was the pusherman. so the need for me was high. i did my thing. money was coming in. couldn’t tell me anything. i was feeling like the man when i walked thru.
around April 15th, new cats came to the block. never seen these dudes before. older cats so they thought they could just come thru and set up shop. their dope was stepped on so much but they called their work the same as ours. that wasn’t gonna fly. now it seemed like we weren’t legit. i had my young goon talk to them and tell them to simmer down or change the name or it was going to be prove to be problematic.
April 19th. nothing changed. they were still there on our corner slinging weak product with our name on it. we don’t do final warnings. the 1st warning is the final warning so i had told my people i was gonna holla at them and that would be the end of it. they were juiced. my people wanted me to use that .38. it was special. they waited for years to see this and they finally were going to witness it. they heard how my dad used to get down. my dad was an urban legend. no one ever seen him but heard stories about the dude. i personally didn’t care about him at all but he was feared. i wanted to be like him. last time moms spoke about him, she told me he was in Sacramento but it was getting dry out there. that was the last thing.
April 20th. i come out the house and immediately see the same older cats outside. these dudes were still slinging. just blatantly disrespecting my words of advice for them to keep it moving. it’s as if i didn’t say anything at all. so i go upstairs get my tool. i was gonna show the block how much i was like my pops. quick trigger. ruthless. ain’t nothing could stop me. adrenaline was running. when i step outside, i see a dude from afar. all i could see was he had a gold chain around his neck. he was the boss, i could tell how they treated him. how his people let him do whatever. as i’m walking up to him, his back was turned. he shoved some woman to the ground. the woman was begging for something. probably dope. you know how they are with the dopeman. but there ain’t nothing i hated more than seeing dudes touching women. so i was infuriated. i just knew i was gonna kill this scrub. as she was on the ground, i yelled “yo what’s up OG. somebody gotta go and it ain’t me.”
he said “young blood, get outta here. this isn’t your fight. this life ain’t meant for you.”
when the OG turned around, i noticed a huge scar on his face, below his left eye. he had the same gold chain i had. the same eyes i had. the same lips i had. just light skin. i paused. couldn’t move. i saw me in him. but not the killer. my hand on my gun but couldn’t release.
it was my dad. i knew him. but he didn’t know me.
Idi pulled out his hammer. it looked just like mine. the gun that i had was the same gun that glanced at me. when you live by the gun, you die by the same fate. in 3 seconds, Idi let 6 go and hit me with every one. as i’m falling to ground, he tells me “he who hesitates is lost, young blood.” the man didn’t think, he just followed his instincts.
the woman on the ground was my momma. after the shots ring, Oshun got up and saw who Idi hit. she realized it was her son. it was me, bleeding out. seconds away from death.
she slaps her baby daddy and yells “THAT’S YOUR SON. YOU JUST SMOKED YOUR SON. YOU BASTARD. I TOLD YOU HE WAS OUT HERE. I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOU HE HAD THE SAME GOLD CHAIN YOU HAD. I TOLD YOU HE WAS THE MAN ON THE CORNERS LIKE YOU WERE. I TOLD YOU HE PROVIDED LIKE YOU DID. I TOLD YOU HE CARRIED THE SAME GUN LIKE YOU. I TOLD YOU. I WAS OUT HERE TO TELL YOU TO TALK TO THE KID. I KNEW YOU SAID YOU WERE IN SACRAMENTO BUT YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU WERE COMING HERE. YOU KILLED MY SON. YOU KILLED YOUR SON.”
that was the first time i spoke to my pops. the first time i met my pops. the introduction to my pops.
“6 shots into his kid, out of his gun. niggas be a father. you’re killing your sons”
Meet The Parents.
*google the Afrikan goddess Oshun, the Afrikan ruler Idi Amin and the Afrikan king Mansa Musa.
and listen to Jay-Z song Meet The Parents.