Love and Hip Hop: The Curious Case of The Rap Game’s Wanderlust.

Early this morning, something came across my eyes that brought
the same tear to it that it did a little over a month ago when
I saw it. It was a conversation between two people that at the time;
prompted me to want to blog about and although the conversation was
in public view (because it was still between two people) I just
blogged about it in my mental rolodex, clutched my chest in empathy,
wiped the lil’ from my eye and kept it moving. (In matters of the heart
believe it or not, I’m a little softer than I seem, I’m just hard-minded
at times).

At any rate.

This morning however, a copy and paste of that same conversation was
posted from the blogger to solicit dialogue/comments on and high and
behold; you know I already had something to say about it (because of
the way it reached me a month and a half ago).

So here I am-it’s all our business now.

It was conversation between rapper Wale and a blogger. He was talking about love
being “too dangerous” and counterproductive right now and for him-he didn’t trust
anybody right now. He stated he had tried but it didn’t work, and how “love” makes
“people” (him) too vulnerable. He said he just wasn’t comfortable with it.

Interestingly, last night, while I was writing into the wee-hours of the morning,
I posted this SHORT POEM to my blog
in which a freestyle/poem came to my mind-my speaking in first person
[like I speak from in pretty much all my work] to a guy who lives a fast
life and loves a girl who too, loves him back yet everytime she feels like he’s getting
to the point where he can relax and put his guns down with her, she gets happy (because
that’s her number one concern with him): his happiness and being that person away from
his fast life to give him the comfort, love, and security that he needs, but still be able
to function in his fast life (but with the security that she is good to him-with or away
from him). But he always pulls the rug from underneath her feet and knocks her back down to
square one and they just can’t get it right because of his trust issues, which what it all
boils down to-is a direct result of the fast life that he lives.

This conversation of Wale’s reminded me of such a scenario so much so that in my writing
the poem last night, what Wale was confessing in this conversation he was having seemed…surreal
to what I was [in first-person] writing a poem about.

God works in mysterious ways, and I’m glad that the blogger happened to have posted the exchange
this morning because it is a subject that is brushed over so much and accepted
as apart of the lifestyle of somebody like Wale’s yet, what does that do to his heart, his mind?
What happens to him when the lights are turned off, sweat wiped and the silence begins?

Is “love” (in Hip-Hop) REALLY counterproductive?

So let’s get to the heart of it all.

You see, it’s kinda like I just mentioned my needing to write in “first-person” in all my
work and my short poem (that too, is related to this essay’s subject matter)
…As an artist, most of the best work is delivered with a kind of texture that is unmatched
when it is delivered [if not first person], from a standpoint of personal experience, true account,
or that which has been tried, witnessed, tested, proven or disproved.

The rap game is a subculture that in many ways, adheres to the same codes of the streets.
Regardless what you may feel about “the streets” (or the rap game), it is no less a subculture and
lifestyle than the one you live and ascribe to as well. One of the biggest codes of (both games) that
I am speaking of, is that it’s not very wise to talk about living a life in the streets that you are
not living-any more than it is not wise to talk about living a life in the rap game (through your music)
that you are not truly living (in your real life outside of the studio and off the stage).
That could get you ostracized to a level unredeemable.

So when you are rapping about fast women and all those things that come with it, you had better be
living it just as sure as if you rap about fast cars and other materialisms–you had better be able
to prove those things are yours, un rented (should you be called on it).

“KEEPIN’ IT REAL.”

As silly as that may sound to the average person, those kinds of “truths” (that one claims to be
living/doing/having) are a kind of metaphor connected to your credibility (and your worth and value)
in the rap game (or streets). If you can “put up” and “put out” about all that you say you are,
what you have, and what you do; then you are somewhat “initiated”-left alone and can be trusted
(in that regard). The “problem” is, you have to keep putting out like that-it has to become
apart of your complete lifestyle just as sure as getting up everyday and bathing has to be apart of
yours, mine and everybody’s lifestyle-it has to be done. And so, the “lifestyle” begins and all that
comes with it…

Because of that [kind of lifestyle] when it comes to “love,” love in hip-hop (to street guys, and guys
in the rap game) “love” is an altogether different kind of “love” than the way the average guy living a
traditional lifestyle (less the fast women/cars etc) lives.

Women (fast women) are VERY necessary to this lifestyle as all the “necessaries” to being in the
lifestyle are too, necessary. They go hand in hand.

I’ve studied pop culture and music through to back in the days before I was ever twinkle in my mom
and dad’s eye. And the interesting dichotomy that I found was that as compared to today, when it came
down to the fast women who were the groupies of yesteryear, they truly did “[come] through,
she brought food, she got fucked, she know what’s up,” (like a popular rap lyric says in a song today).
The girl (then) got high with the guys, rode the tour bus around here and there, went home, met back
up with them in some other town, some other night-same bat time, same bat channel. And this thing would
go on and on until whenever. Most all groupies of yesteryear did that-they understood, and were okay
with that.

*CUE THE ROCKSTAR MUSIC*

For the rockstar men (of yesteryear) the drugs, the sex, and rock and roll were magnets to the women who
they all pretty much in agreement and knew: “time spent with me is time spent with you.” It was all apart
of the business [of the pleasurable kind] for the men (and the fast women). And the end of the night
(or morning) there was no-harm, no-foul.

As time progressed, recessions began, economic statuses have changed; therefore the culture of music
(and the music itself) too, changed. People are growing more impatient with having, and doing things
the slow way in these fast times. These changes (in the hip-hop culture I’m speaking of now)
brought out a whole new sleuth of fast women who would rather die than wear a label called “groupie,”
whereas the groupies of yesteryear wore the title like a badge of honor yet, they all did (and do-now)
the same things.

Therein lies the problem where “love” and hip-hop is concerned.

*CUE THE RAP MUSIC*

As time progressed groupies came out in droves. The internet wasn’t available to civilians as yet and
during that time, being wherever any rap-star would be was all a matter of knowing when they would be in
town, saying (and doing) the right to the right hand-man (or entourage member), and you could come along
for the ride and do whatever. Unlike yesteryear, these times were laden with women with a bigger game plan:
To go half on a baby. The stories would be unbelievable but damned sure true. Some worked out (as planned)
others didn’t-but the bottom line was, these guys knew the game. In the middle of their lifestyle:
trying to create and “keep it real” these women became very much a distraction (but of the necessary kind).
There is no rap lifestyle without the women. There is nothing to rap about (that would sell)
without actually having those experiences with these women… (That is: If you’re really about keepin’ it real)…

*CUE THE RAP MUSIC—LOUDER*
In made available the internet. Gone, are the days where the groupies were trying to get pregnant-uh un.
The internet has brought them all closer to their target than ever before. They want to look cute
for pictures now. The only busting out these females want to bust out at is at the ass, titties
and the hips-that’s it: by any means and costs necessary. It’s the way of the game.
Even the surgery for it all has gone underground now. It’s a full-on covert operation and
these rap dudes at war. The groupies got a bigger game now and a little more wiggle room
than ever before.

The influx of lesser quality television gives rise to lesser important news.
The media masses are now reporting “news” today for the sake sensationalism, ratings and
culture shock. This afforded the groupies of this lifestyle a different way in:
Get the guy, keep your eye on a couple of others. Make fake friends in-industry and outside
of industry [who too are all doing the same thing to greater and lesser degrees].
And viola! They’re on television, all over the blogs and various internet gateways.
Their new lives have just begun, but the romance is not over (not just yet).
They got more work to do.
(*cues the music: “Pussycat” by Missy Elliot’)
“Pussy don’t fail me now. I gotta turn this nigga out. So he don’t want nobody else, but me and only me.”

These girls are giving these rap dudes good times in their lifestyle; providing them with
all the “keepin’ it real” material necessary to rap and write about. It’s on and poppin’
right now. Strip clubs, industry parties, private parties, after-parties, video shoots,
Snoop rapping over speakers-art imitating life: “Every other city go. No matter I go,
I see the same hoes.”

Drakeness over the speakers chiming in: “I don’t judge her. I don’t judge her.
But I could never love her ’cause to her I’m a rapper and she will have met another.”

Both: “Keepin’ It Real”: Life imitating art. Art reflecting life…

These rap dudes are fallin’ in and out of infatuation and fascination with so many women they can’t
keep up with them. Before they can grip them long enough to attempt anything solid; she’s already
made her way through the industry and put up an online account where the lost souls of the audience
give her audience because she was the former girlfriend of Rap Star A and now the new girlfriend
of Rap Star B. She’s an insta-star now. Famous for being with the famous and now she’s famous-that’s it.

It’s really war-zone now, and the “Wale’s” all know how it goes down. So they shut down…and become numb
(like he said in their exchange)
…The closest thing to connect to her are the words over the speakers chanting out from his heart that although
he wish could happen and be true, he knows-won’t happen so instead he let’s the song cry from own pen:
“And before the sun graze ya I’m tryna see how deep you are and believe me Shawty..I ain’t talking
’bout no intimate conversation..I wanna see if I can make you reach things unattainable when I peek into
your nature. And I promise you my goals will exceed any physical pleasure I wanna give you what’s better
than better. The better my effort, the wetter her treasure…the more these mere moments seem like heavens
or temporary forevers. Shawty get it together. Shawty get it together.”

Numbing the feel…

It’s all apart of the lifestyle now and they collect the pain, keep the kush on the deck and
continue to keep it real. By this point and time, this cycle is a day-in-and day-out process.

*CUE THE SILENCE*

Meanwhile back at the ranch is the one girl he’s got tucked away. Some girl he didn’t meet at
a strip club, industry party, a private party, an after-party or a video shoot. She’s just some
girl doing her thing, in no way interested in his pop life-he’s just her prince, and he loves
her to life and adores her. He can tell her things he would dream of telling no other woman.
He can cry to her. He continuously tries with her, and does everything he can and even refuses
to lie to her. He loves her, but doesn’t quite know how to trust her in ways to catch up with
how he continuously tries-like he’s chasing his own tail. The life he lives won’t let him lay
all his trust on the line for her. She’s still a woman just like all the others are-regardless
his love for her. He holds on to this part of his resistance in an effort to “keep it real”
so as to not deviate too far from the life he lives. He needs a little bit of that
so he doesn’t go “soft”—it’s “counterproductive.”

“Love is counterproductive… ” (says Wale).

So the most commitment he can offer his tucked girl away right now is solace in the fact that
“she’s not like the rest of ‘those’ girls.” The ones he’s used to. The ones he goes after,
the ones that go after him. The ones he parties with. The ones that are actually very much apart
of his life more than he will ever sit in silence to think about and consider being so…

To alleviate the guilt he feels for knowing he has not put it down with her completely, like Wale,
he lets a song cry in his head too-fantasizing about the day he takes a deep breath and is brave
enough to cry with the introduction to its words
So, I typed a text to a girl I used to see, sayin that I chose this cutie pie with whom I wanna be.
And I apologize if this message gets you down, then I cc’d every girl that I’d see-see ’round town
and, I hate to see y’all frown but I’d rather see her smiling. Wetness all around me, true, but I’m no
island Peninsula maybe, makes no sense I know, crazy. Give up all this pussycat that’s in my lap no
lookin’ back?”

Little does she know, he often fantasizes about that day happening but he’s scared.
Deep down inside, he’s got too much too risk.
“Love is counterproductive… ” (says Wale).

Unfortunately, on one of those days where Little Miss Tucked Away is all cried out and thought through,
he goes back to chasing his tail and telling her that he thinks it can work out. She proceeds to tell
him what she thinks’ll happen with the two of them if all the things that came with “love” were to be
something he impulsively acted on: He’ll eventually grow to resent her because that’s the life that gave
him “life” and fed his ego to degrees that one woman back home simply loved by him, cannot contend with.
That is a reality.

So to be fair to them both, the best thing they can do is to be counteractive in order to counterbalance it all.

That would mean Little Miss Tucked Away understanding that his lifestyle is going to be what it is:
Girls will be around. No kicking and screaming, serial-texting and excessive unnecessary pressure
and other types of silliness as a trade-off for him not only be considerate for what he has back home;
but being SMART ENOUGH to mingle and handle all those same girls as the BUSINESS that they are:
“necessary” to his lifestyle, but consider the fact that you’ve got your PLEASURE (that truly knows and loves you)
at home-someone who has no interest in being where you’re at, partying where you party, living life how you
live it BUT while making her own way doing her own thing.

Granted, not all “Wale’s” have a Little Miss Tuck Away, but it does not excuse the fact that you still need
a remedy for counteraction and counterbalancing-you have to use your head (the one on your shoulders) a little
better by opening your own eyes to see what’s really going on in your world and in your lifestyle.
Stop point the finger at the “necessary” girls who are out here surviving and taking care of
“necessary business” (with your permission and invite).

Those “necessary” girls today (that again, are a package deal with the lifestyle), aren’t like the groupies
in days of Jagger and Steven Tyler/Aerosmith, a lot of the old RnB -all those groupies in their day
genuinely wanted to stroke their egos, get high, have sex and go home. Period. They found joy
in that. There was no trickery and hidden agendas.

It’s a different time right now and groupies have evolved with the changes in time, but it’s the
“Wale’s” who are “counterproductive”: still laying back like the cats in the Jagger day’s (enjoying all this)
but not understanding that now (unlike then) it’s serious BUSINESS for these girls and you have to open
your eyes and look at “the business” like it’s a game of “Survivor” (the tv show): You dump all these men and
women on an island where a million dollars is to be gotten and it’s going to be a whole lot of snuffing out
until that million dollars is gotten.

In the lifestyle of the “Wale’s” you are dumped on and island where everybody’s looking to strategize and win
that million dollars-no matter how dirty they gotta play. Some hearts and heads are gonna roll and some fires
are gonna be snuffed the eff out.

The fact still remains-you keep mingling in the lion’s den of survivors thinking that within that lion’s den,
you’re going to find that little kind kitty that won’t bite (or break their ally with you in order to get
close to that million).

Aint gonna happen.

It is counterproductive to think that you can keep mingling with “business” in search of pleasure and think
that you are somehow going to find an ally of loyalty and trust in somebody who’s in search of a million
dollars without something to trade, sell, or offer (other than sex, a big body, butt, and smile).

CLUE: ANYTHING WHERE THE MONEY IS FAST, YOU GOTTA DO “FAST” THINGS TO GET IT.

Anybody who is wherever you:
• Party
• Mingle
• Congregate
…that’s not there with any literal business by which you do business, is there on a different
kind of business (under the guise of pleasure).

You see, while they’re lovin’ the crew, you can’t be in a Jagger-like 60’s daze in this
New Millennium haze. And when you don’t open your own eyes to see that you are seeking, looking,
attracting, permitting, or inviting “love” [in although necessary ego-boosting convenient but wrong places];
you are going to KEEP finding your fire getting snuffed out to that same point of “numbness” (like Wale).

So yes, “love” can be COUNTERPRODUCTIVE…but only when what you have is really not love.

Often lost on a lonely highway, love (like clarity) is found on a two-way street.

When it’s real love, you COUNTERBALANCE it with COUNTERACTION whether it be as a single man
(making better choices in women, where you make your choices or get chosen), or whether it
be with a Little Miss Tucked Away on your team.

Don’t just drop the mic on “Keepin’ it Real” at the part where you neglect to see what part
you played in the Game too, it’s a two-way street. And when you only consider the
“counterproductive”—which is like…that line in the center of that two-way street; you
neglect to consider there are two other sides of that line that you must see (for clarity)
and when you don’t, you make your own heart and other people pay for it when you don’t consider
both sides of that Game + humbly keep this fact in mind in the hazy mist of all your fortune and fame:

There’s only so much sex with so many exotic women , places, styles, and positions you can have it.

There’s only so many exotic places you can go, and live-expensive clothes, fancy cars.

There’s only so many delicacies you can consume that all this wealth and fame can buy to keep you happy and on temporary forevers.

After marinating on that, and coming to terms with that reality; the bonus is securing the LOVE of someone who:
• Truly loves you
• Truly cares for you
• Is truly concerned for you

It changes that Wanderlust to “Wonder”…forever (and that’s definitely productive).

So make your money and your music, and all that comes with that.

But aside from that-make your real, good love.

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MEET ANGELA SHERICE