You know, I often proudly pronounce myself an advocate of/for Hip-Hop on a regular basis. Often times, I will go so for as to voice my concern over the future of this culture that I hold so dear. It means that much to me. I don’t always understand, or agree with, choices that being made with today’s generation. This new bumper crop of would-be b-boys and b-girls are not only being left to fend for themselves emotionally, but actively being led in a foul assed direction, mentally (and sometimes physically). I mean, really… who’s keeping an eye on these kids?
I was watching America’s Got Talent and there was a little kid that walked up to the center of the stage. The kid looked like a Marshall’s manequin for 1998, complete with shopping mall chain. I wasn’t mad at that. We’ve all got our own Hip-Hop uniform and I’ve rocked a few 40 inch chains in my day.
When they asked him his name, he said his name was “SB Ceezy…” or something. No big deal, I mean… what can I say? My name is “stretch mark” transposed with a letter change cause I’m so damned clever.
When asked about his talents, Ceezy said that he danced, wrote music, and rapped. Okay… go head lil man, with your Fubu self.
Now earlier, Nick Cannon (yeah… that guy) was talk with SB and was informed that the young star had been rapping for 8 years. Normally i’d totally applaud that…. if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s now 11 years old!
Now, I’ll be honest. At this point, I’m starting to smell a faintly familiar scent. I do believe I detect the aroma of “teen mom” (it smells like a combination of Clinique, hair gel and weed). But every star has to start somewhere. Inhale open-mindedness… exhale pre-judgement.
So after chronicling his sorted girlfriend situation (erk!) And telling the judges that the only difference between him and Eminem is that “Em don’t dance”, the judges give young Robert Van Winkle the green light to dazzle them.
As the music builds, Ceezy gives the mic a couple “uh” and “yeah” checks.
(Somewhere in the ghetto, watching the show on a boosted flat screen on bootleg cable): Awwww shit. He bout to go in, nigga!
“I roll up in the club….”
WTF?
I could feel my eyes start to water as my soul was pepper-sprayed by eu de I Had A Baby Too Soon. Apparently, Ceezy drinks, rolls deep with his crew, gets excellent grades, drives big cars, gets it crunk in the club and gets bitches. Okay… I made up one of those… I admit it.
Man… somebody needs to kick his parents’ asses! They are setting this kid up for failure! The lyrics that this kid spat out were absolutely deplorable! I think he might have even grabbed is dick at one point. Maybe I’m getting old, but that shit was NOT cute. As I listened to him I swear his arrest record flashed before my eyes.
The even greater tragedy is that ALL of the judges loved this kid. LOVED his song and thought that it was adorable that this kid was rapping like a 30 year old repeat offender. They acually, unanimously voted Ceezy on to the next round. Not one of them took the opportunity to advise this kid that what he was saying was inappropriate, not to mention untrue. Maybe it’s not really their responsibility but damn, somebody could’ve stopped the social bleeding that he was unknowingly suffering from.
The real crux of the situation is … the kid really had some talent! His stage presence was on point and his delivery was pretty good, especially for a pre-teen. He even launched himself into a pretty Michael-esque moonwalk. With that in mind, I guess there may be hope.
Somebody get this kid a Little Brother cd, quick!





