The Next Element of Hip Hop By SUNEZ ALLAH #SkillastratorLO #PowerWrite

 A Battle Build on Racism, Colorism, Salma Roundtables, KKKnicks, Bans and Walls

“Peace to the Gods and Peace to the Earths/My piece put your ass in pieces/put your piece/in the dirt…” – Sean Price (Remembered In Perfection) – “Give Em Hell”

Study the stance, SkillastratorLO atmospheres are made of piled thoughts, the letters Momma gave me that grew up mighty. The understanding on the square’s written that I’m one of the Blackest brothers in sight, a powerwrite. The Black God, like when family of all shades go to the Blackest spot on Earth, the 5% Nation of Gods and Earths’ first school in Harlem, to learn the science we share freely, they may attend the longest course in the school’s history and meet it’s instructor, this Brown Boricua.

 Some gotta learn that we be Blacker than coal, that the Soul is so old. It’s been tapped in the feat of so many soles. See, racism is an airborne disease dropped by high flying Caucasians while colorism is a cancer formed from the pollution of those bomb droppings our own resultant assumptions, these ignoble stances of educated ignorance. It’s that nigga shit and most niggas got it.

“Instead, I chose to become a newlywed to the true bread/Of life and fed God Degree of light to my head/It’s been said, the fool who sleep is already dead, so I stay awake/And take care of my brother, and uncover the veil of the skin/So we can see each other, cause every color can make the light appear duller/Who’s the colored man?/Who’s the Original?/Who’s the biochemical?/Who’s the grafted digital, digital, digital, digital, digital?…” – RZA – “Sunshower”

Pana, they tell me you too light to use the word nigga. Anecdotal libraries crashing down, the majority of light skinned Latinos who use nigga conveniently, code switching then coon dipping later is a highlight of this damned cancer. One brother judging the worthiness of letting another brother use the word nigga is based on the assuming of his hells based on shade. If that’s the case then all vary from the African American but all are abnormally and tragically similar making the word viable certainly for any Latino, particularly Puerto Ricans or Mexicans because they’ve suffered genocide to heights of planned killings by government and racism to the heights of lynchings matching African Americans from Southern states in proportion. The majority of this magical light skinned advantage are really the demeaning crumbs of pseudo-privilege versus the barren plates of exile my darker family receive. So is this all the “officialized” Blacks versus the petty perpetuating Brown, the modern day house niggers of great contempt? Black and Brown wars are real but I been the brother in all ciphers. Push the man out and let’s carve the Oakley! The Original man Is made of a Black gene/germ/gem and a Brown gene/germ/gem–not one. Both make that one supreme being.


See, nigga often is a gateway word. Often leading nowhere but for every light skinned brother, specifically Latino, that got some kind of knowledge of self, as I who am the true and living God, the depth of nigga was about seeing and understanding the oppression you went through that has been unknown. And it’s massive, designed to be different and crafted to never attach to another’s horror. All suffering, none knowing of the other’s hells though. Now, if we just make blanket statements saying someone can’t use a word then we are also engaging in our personal racism, the colorism of qualification, saying who is dark enough, who is light enough, who is broad nosed enough, who is too aquiline, etc.

Let’s riddle a little and find a cipher with many walls. The answer is them roundtables where our Black and Brown mingle with whites and others claiming needs to rights.  It’s like that walled cipher where Salma Hayek spoke, a Black sister, Jessica Williams with a smaller honorable resume and a plethora of trans labels was reported to not have been heard. So it’s more proof darker don’t get understood by lighter?

Now let’s build on roundtables.  Not these things at colleges where everybody know the answers and only the least articulate rapper got ideas. I’m talking the real roundtables where the people’s best, old to young, come to find the solutions by laying out the problems.  Read that Salma vs. Jessica coverage and you’ll really read all type of white folk just peddling their genitals dynamically, transportation.  So now I’m reading about white queers got problems worse than a nigga but most niggas can’t say nigga so who gets to be oppressed. All the while,  the poor sister shook and can’t look but Salma can’t take her arm and show her the books.

Young sisters and the brothers working the roundtables. Sit back, find the elders with works around you. You’re representing a people and not your personal anecdotes only.  Collect your questions, fire them and scroll the notes.  Salma only fine with a life like wine if you only take the time to opine your whine.  Kobe didn’t tell Jordan his problems. He did the 1 to Jordan’s 2 and got the 3. Knowledge, wisdom and understanding. Everybody on a roundtable got them hells and they all vary, but the placemats are always set if insights are to benefit. Tear down the walls on the ciphers and the feelings of words, the heartache of moments and the truisms of colorisms will go extinct.

Truth is I say the word nigga whenever I feel like it. I use it in formal lectures when appropriate, litter my published works with it as Art of awareness and contrast all the jewels with this word of swine. To have mastery of weapons you got to use them. And I use all of them. Truth be’s that for all the building, I have spent the majority of my days listening to the elders just like Momma taught me. See, I’ve only ever taught niggas to God, never God to God. So you gotta listen to God before you can build as the one–

–Supreme being, mysterious wonders prayed too I clap between the pages of the baby’s text.  Our visions are too infantile to see the equations we throw all the numbers in, like penny persuaded petty puddles of robotic misery mumble rappers  stumble into whilst the functions of X’s and O’s are just unknown B’s and ciphers unseen. Still they be’s there tho you ain’t seen them.

And so we made walls composed of the graffiti granite of our own ill colorisms. See, niggas like me got this grand title, the G.O.D. To the majority, over 85 percent assuming, it labels the delusional rulership of self serving command. To those who really hold the title belt, it’s the ever challenging embrace of responsibility to the people. That there must be a knowing in men that leadership isn’t a guiding of packs to the opportune despite the greater ruin of others. The blindness to collateral is such a ploy of the orange. In this empire for the generic cracker made by the eclectic nigga, a wall is as an odd stop sign in the middle of a plantation while a ban is an odd damn obstructing a hell’s ecosystem of  death drones, ravaged city battlefields and fluctuating rivers of niggas of all shades, shames, claims and pains. Shades of evil Brown religions of the Middle East, shames of slaughtered families that don’t be all they can be as well as American armies, claims of colorism anew against newly forced niggas we ain’t never seen before til they own the new version of bodegas and pains of dehumanizing jihad to rehumanizing submission via the fucking American dream scheme.

“Revolution ain’t a game it’s another name, for life fightin…” – Common – “My Way Home”

So salute a real King, a man with wisdom’s understanding.  A knowledge of himself, of his people and the embracing of responsibility to fulfill it humanely. Queen, a woman of all forums.  One that knows the supremacy of a King’s being the way he be. And for her the forums of salvation are the daily solutions of building applied broader and broader, to more and more.  Fixed together, the King and Queen, to the position of supremacy is important.  This is a right that doesn’t wing to the winds of seclusion but extends with the challenges brought by their own invite.  Striking centerlines it doesn’t nest in the left where the fights are trans-real and hypocrisy is the only gender doing the fucking.

To our Black Kings and Queens, of all shades, the ones easily seen and the ones proven with a third eye, walls and bans are just new ghetto filters.  They let in the blood, sweat and tears of a nigga but never the minerals of his livelihood. They are powered by our own colorism because we don’t even see the understanding. Oppression can only be against Black and Brown but colorism may have the same effects. We’re the ones who create—not just produce and manufacture you American fuck—the civilizations that were broken into your constitutions and declarations of democracy and made a legacy of the hidden figures—find sisters to sisters that bring whites to all spaces to whites reading by the dawn’s anytime Latimer light.

Nigga, I tell you that you won’t ever like any other niggas in this niggafied land but niggas you believe are like you.  The concrete matrix supposed to let you swallow a good blueful. But peel a pill and see the mills of mind that churn this peace of shit. The ignorance of the people is never the justification for the hatred of them. Lao Tzu, an ancestor of the iron butterfly pen, chiseled, “good men are teachers of bad men while bad men are the charge of good men.”  Look at all these great wild niggas around me!

“True talk nigga, watch the last become first like a New York Knickerbocker/Sean sparks like John Starks/Nah, Sean ball like John Wall/Don’t catch a Washington Bullet/Finger on the trigger/nigga/Now watch me just pull it/P!” – Sean Price (Remembered In Perfection) – “Figure More”

See, all of hell’s roads lead back to Mecca.  And when the covert cuts of Democrats fail to empower the psyche of the worst of white America they looked to New York Fucking City.  To a place where racism empowers stupored civilization just as our ancestors empowered Alexandria. And in a garden on Madison Square, the dribble is tuned to the drivel intended and Knickerbockers are the ideal trove to be mined for insight.  To have a society where they destroy the Black heritage and foundation, a chopped Oakley tree with so much fruit of inspiration to bear. To have a daily life where the citizen fuel is just a colonial fruit to be raisined of his worth in the most Melo way.  And a law and order to prevail that measures the Phil of a past resume into the privileges of empty work.  This NYC is where an orange skinned man was found that was to be empowered to cause blue, pill blue and embed blue everywhere suffer for them fruitfully.  

Now, is there a Nigga King Neo and his flying femme fleek Queen, that will speak to the Nigga masses?  And tell them the plugs got no off but intensity levels, Covert and Overt. Often you may know them as Democrat and Republican, the honorable gentleman of civilized horrors pedestaled to worship versus the ruthless Rugged Individualist commandeering his masturbatory policy. They are cycles of the same machine wash and we have been laundered in oppression for too long. It is our colorism between each other that will lynch us in this Orange crow era.  So see the levels are all living and breathing from the niggas posted on both sides of the walls and respire as we, the collaterally damaged family banned of movement but still feeding our surroundings at great speeds and who the power of perceptions our own disunity dangerously empower. Niggas to God is a natural migration none can ban or wall.  Let’s powerwrite a build, skillastrate a greater revolution…

“Blueprint schematics/we’re still conscious with mathematics/fortified with the fire/that street legends aspire…” – Prince Powerule – “Grace”

All photos by David Free
IG: @FreeNYC