CH. 3 “MR. KEBA-KABA” Sample Chapter
Chapter 3: (“MR. KEBA-KABA”)
[Ch.3 – Summary]
Typically, when you tell someone that they suck at something, like DJing, you are actually communicating two things: (1) that they are bad and (2) that you are better than them. You can ease the offense by eliminating the implication of #2– i.e. by saying something like “Wow, that was a different sound! Or something, disarming them with implicit encouragement. Of course, this method can be complicated if you are in fact quite good at the activity in question (DJing | Mixing | Scratching)). In 2004, me (DJ Kool Ken) , DJ Darkbody, and DJ “Jay” Black we’re a TRIPLE-THREAT. But, unfortunately, one of the Dynamic-DJ-Trio had to go.
[“THE ONLY PERSON I THINK THAT EVEN COMES CLOSE TO ME SPINNING IS— JAM MASTER JAY!”] — Mr. Keba-Kaba (Pronounced: Keb-ba- Kab-ba)]
↓ [Insert Kool Ken’s Version] ↓
These were the infamous words spoken by a fellow DJ and friend of me (DJ Kool Ken) and DJ Darkbody. His name—well let’s call him: “Jay”. Now before you start overthinking things—let me explain.
As far as getting the job as Promotions Coordinator at the radio station goes, I was geeked about getting the job. I tried my BEST to DO A GOOD JOB. PLUS, I wanted to KEEP MY PROMISE, TO HELP SOMEONE OUT AS FAR AS GETTING PEOPLE IN AND WORKING FOR /AT THE RADIO STATION. That sounded good in theory–but that would NOT be.
My boss “D” (DeeDee) was lazy-big-pain-in-the-ass. I remember she would tell me (leave a list) of all the items for me to do for the day or for the week. Things such as:
- Alphabetize entry forms from radio station fans from previous events (A couple of events a month equals thousands-on-thousands of entry forms). Or…
- Properly store promotional items all day (try carrying 15-30 boxes of promo items–keychains, hats, bags, t-shirts, CD’s, towels, etc.—from the promotional truck up 9-flights of stairs in a building–when the elevators were broken– and storing them in an office the size of a small pantry or closet.)
She did have a son that had special needs, and she would claim she didn’t have a babysitter. But, she would be gone ALL day. A lot of times she would NOT even show up to half the radio station events. She would literally have me do the majority of the work.
Early one day while I was coming into the radio station office, her and another coworker, a friend of hers– (I think she was one-half of the so-called “Turntable-Sisters” for the station back then.) — called me into a conference room. They claimed I was late for an event and fired me. I tried to get an explanation about “Why I was Fired.” They claimed a sponsor for a major event, claimed to have seen me come in late for an event—which I know for a fact was a LIE. I would get to events 3-4 hours ahead of time to make sure everything was in place. Especially since I was the ONLY one usually there at the event. DeeDee would not show up to a certain event at all. That day, DeeDee wouldn’t even look at me. Nevertheless, it was a wash, and I was let go. I worked for the radio station for about a year. Come to find out, a couple of months later, that DeeDee was fired as well for embezzling money from the promotions department at the radio station. About $60,000—ain’t that a BITCH!!!
So, around this time a sort of —TRIPLE-THREAT was formed. I think this was early 2003, Not only was Jay working at the radio station*—he replaced me as Promotions Coordinator at the radio station– but he helped both of me and DJ Darkbody continued to work as interns in promotions at the radio station after I was fired. He had been DJing at a spot on the Eastside of Detroit named “WADE’S” (E. Davison & Sherwood) for a while. One night after an event with the radio station riding in the promotions truck–we all started talking about DJing and who in particular were the DJ’s that influenced us to spin.
↓DJ Kool Ken Top 5 DJ influences↓:
- DJ Pete Rock: (Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth) –because of his way of putting “SOUL and FUNK” into his music/tracks/beats…HE just made them come alive.
- DJ Kid-Capri: because of His Voice on the Microphone and His Crazy Energy with the crowd.
- DJ Magic Mike and Uncle Luke: – because of the 1st time I had heard that Down South BOOTY DANCING BASS Sound.
- DJ Premier: (Gang Starr) for production skills or
- DJ Scratch: (EPMD) toss up…
[*Insert DJ Dark body’s version here*]
Now I guess we can really talk about some Djing since the book is about. We’ll it’s still about our life–DJing–.is the main topic. So for ALL you Wanna-Bee’s and Inspiring motherfucking DJ’s–Coming out–trying to get outta ya’ Momma’s basement–spinning period. Here we go. This for EVERYBODY.
(P.S.: And this is going to be to some of them motherfuckers who call yourself a DJ.)
Let me first talk about the DJ’s that inspired me. It was really five who got me going from day one. ↓Dark body Top 5 DJ influences↓:
- Grandmaster Flash: 1st DJ to me that I heard that was commercial, 1st Time Hearing Someone Cutting on Wax, inspired me to get my mixing tight, Hats off to him. He is The Don of DJs.
- Jam Master Jay: The Prince of DJ’s…
- DJ Jazzy Jeff: That’s my nigga. 1st DJ, I Heard “Transform” on wax…that’s his shit.
- Eric B: That nigga man, I do not even have to say shit. My mind was fuckin’-like mashed potatoes when I would listen to “Paid In Full” and “Let the Rhythm Hit Em’”, All they shit.
- DJ Evil-E (from Black Moon) I recently saw an old YouTube video, with him doing some shit…definitely like him.
They were INCREDIBLE to me. I wanted to BE THAT DUDE. I wanted to have the status that went along with it. But I didn’t just want it because it looks good. This was what I really, really wanted to do.
And if I had to do it. Then these were the guys to check out. I wanted to be MYSELF but, I want to get where they were are at. I would love to be rocking stadiums with 20,000 people. That whole thang. That’s what those DJs inspired me to do. Because they were doing it. Long story short, those are my idols pretty much as the DJ game is concerned.
Let me talk about DJs in general.
DJs are very egotistical and maniacal. They can be. Not ALL of them but, the ones here in this city, anyway. Cut-throat-type motherfuckers anyway. They “Smile-In-Your-Face” and “Stab-You-In-The Back” type-niggas. Always buying for your spot. They WILL undercut you. And go to the DJ Conferences every year and say—I mean, be the 1st Motherfucker in the room to stand up to say:
“You know what fellas, the reason why we are not making it (DJ’s being successful in the Music Industry) —especially in Detroit—N*ggaz in Detroit got this problem (of Undercutting) bad and WE need to come together, that’s why we Ain’t got no unity, and WE need to stop that shit.”
Now let me explain what it is to UNDERCUT another DJ.
When you got a gig, and the gig is paying you, let’s say— $100/a night (Not Much Money but, anyways). Let’s say you’re at a Strip Club/Titty-Bar ($100/a night – $10/ a girl – This kind of shit happens EVERY-FUCKING-DAY!). You established your night—You get your night TIGHT. You run through your 4-weeks—Boom, Boom, Boom! Yep, the manager/the bar/the club offers you another night. Shit start picking up for you. Ok. Personally, I’ve gone from one night to six nights in the same club.
But what these other DJ’s will do. They’ll come in the bar/the club. Come in the DJ booth with you and introduce themselves. “I’m DJ Such-N-Such,” I’ll say, DJ OUTHOUSE. Hell, probably because I remember his breath smell just like a Motherfucking OUTHOUSE…I mean just like one. A Down-South-Mississippi—185 Degree-Ass Day—Outhouse. His breath smelt SO BAD. It smells like an open fucking sewer. I couldn’t believe it. Don’t go on the mic behind this dude, you won’t make it. You will puke. You can’t do it. His shit is putrid. And he’s known for it too. Niggas still fuck with him. It ain’t necessary cause of his DJ skills is all that but, he’ll do whatever…He’ll lick your ass, to get your spot. He’ll UNDERCUT you. I got proof of the shit. He doesn’t know it, but I do.
I’ll give you an example of UNDERCUTTING DJ’S:
One night, a club called “MANDEE’S” opened. I know the owner–AL– because I’d been DJing at his Titty-Bar, right down the street. So he opened up a regular bar/club spot. Had me, come down there on Monday and Tuesday nights to get it open. We down there, we open it up, Ain’t nobody down there. The only people in the bar are me, the manager (AL), and my wife. The manager and my wife are talking. I’m in the DJ booth, working with the equipment, hooking up shit. I start playing some music. I see DJ Outhouse come in, and he comes over to the DJ booth:
”Hey, What’s Up Dawg? Blaw, Blaw, Blaw…”
”They Got YOU Up Here Man?” DJ Outhouse says.
“Yelp” I replied.
“Oh, Imma see if I could get a night too.”
Now when he gets up there, he doesn’t know that the bartender is my girl. He thinks she’s associated or with the manager (AL). He immediately cut into AL:
“What’s up AL man? Shit, I know I’m getting a night up in here—Bla-zee-Supplee–Um, (leans over to AL) So what are you paying this nigga DJ Dark body?”
AL tells him: “He charging me about $100.”
DJ Outhouse responds: “Oh he charging you a hundred for that B.S. (DJ Equipment) he on. Man, I’ll do it for $75.”
Now when he said that, My Wife–the one who I got to bring this check home too–hears this bullshit. She’s PISSED!
She says to them: “Excuse me, gentlemen, let me see if the DJ is thirsty? Let me take him a drink.”
She walks over to the DJ booth and brings me my drink and says: “That DIRTY-MOTHERFUCKER!”
I say: “What?!?!”
“He over there UNDERCUTTING YOU Boo.” she replies.
“HELL NAW, Outhouse?!?! This nigga is the-main-motherfucker complaining about that SAME SHIT. You FUCKIN’ KIDDING ME.” I snap back.
Mind you, my wife has “NO INTEREST” in THE DJING GAME. The only stake she got in it is–ME. She doesn’t wanna see– ME hurt. She can GIVE A FUCK ABOUT DJING. She DOESN’T know about any of this. She CAN’T turn any of this DJ equipment on. She doesn’t even like Hip-Hop– she’s Old-School R&B and Soul Music type—She is as far away from this DJ Life as a person could be.
With that being said, this motherfucker, UNDERCUT me that night. I ain’t NEVER said shit to HIM. I’ve been waiting for the day for it to come out. And I’ve been DJing at other spots–where this same motherfucker—DJ Outhouse—is all-of-sudden now managing. He would be switching up my scheduled days so he could work them. But where he had Fucked-Up at was that he KILLED and DESTROYED THOSE NIGHTS because customers and dancers were used to me DJing. They were asking HIM where I was on those nights he stole. He made himself “BIG-N-TOUGH” and “BIT OFF MORE THAN HE COULD CHEW!”
Again, that’s why I tell you (DJ Kool Ken)…ALWAYS BE YOU! I put MY BRAND…MY STYLE…MY DAMN, SHIT-STAIN ON EVERYTHING I FUCKIN’ DO! Even if you GOT SKILLS and are a SWEET-ASS DJ…It’s still going to be hard to follow me. That’s the whole point to that—DJ’S.
Again, mind you, I’m NOT the one just talking shit. I’ve been DJing for over 20 years. I’ve never UNDER-CUT ANY DJ—NOT FOR ONE FUCKING PENNY. Every job I ever got, I got on MY OWN MERIT, weather I walked in OFF-THE-STREET or LOOKED them up in the Yellow Pages, ya’ heard. Yes, sir, I’m proud of that. I’ve EARNED EVERY DROP of MY SHIT!
So, that being said, the name of this chapter is “MR. KEBA-KABA”. Now this guy is a really good friend of ours. And It’s really hard to…criticize…a good friend. But I think if it’s constructive criticism, it should be ok, but that’s still hard to do because it hurts people’s feelings. Let’s just be REAL.
But he set himself up for this shit.
His nickname is—let’s just say– DJ KEBBA-KABBA . His real name is Jay. The year was 2003. Jay ends up being my boss after Kool Ken had been let go at the radio station over some bullshit.
(I’ll let Kool Ken talk about that.)
Since Kool Ken had brought me in as an intern. This leaves me to be on alert. The radio station brings in a new promotion coordinator (Jay), promotions manager and other new staff. Your kind of on the bubble. You don’t know if they are going to keep you…especially as an intern…or not.
So Jay gets Kool Ken’s old job. I Gotta keep It REAL. As far as bosses go, Kool Ken sucked as a boss. Not because he was a BAD BOSS. But, he really dotted the “I’s” and crossed the “T’s” on every-motherfucking-thang. I’m not the one to take a bunch of shortcuts BUT. If I can get around some shit, to benefit the greater good — I will do it. I don’t give a shit. I’m kind of a bad with authority because of that too.
WORKING WITH KENNY WOULD BE LIKE THIS–We’re at a Tom Joyner Morning Show event. We Got All this promotional shit–T-shirts, Keychains, Banners, etc. To me looking at the box, automatically that means to me–Give-A-Way–That’s What it says–On The Box–So when I open that motherfucker, that’s what I do–GIVE-IT-A-WAY!!!
Kool Ken Is like: “WHOA…WHOA…WHOA, we got to take some of them T-shirts back to DaVita” –.
I could never understand that.
We didn’t have another event to go to. The next one we scheduled for didn’t have anything to do with T-Shirts. This shit supposes to be gone–I know that. Come to find out DaVita–Kool Ken’s former Promotions Manager–was embezzling from the radio station. She got their asses for about $60,000. She was taking the promotional department budget money purchasing the T-Shirts for the radio station– tell Kool Ken to Give-A-Way half at the radio station events–tell him to bring the rest back and then Sell the rest. Or She would purchase blank ones for herself–design them at her shop– and Sell them as well. That’s why she kept telling him to bring the leftover t-shirts back to her.
I would get an attitude with Kool Ken like: “Fuck Taking T-Shirts Back To The Station, They are Give-A-Ways. GIVE THE SHIT AWAY!”
And when he wasn’t looking. I would give the promotional t-shirts out. Sometimes he would be looking–I didn’t care. People would run up to the promotional truck/van and I’m handing HANDFULS of promo t-shirts out– 5 to 7 t-shirts at a time. Give Em’ Out–Fuck Shit!
Kool Ken would be like: “She GONE BE MAD…”
I’m like: “FUCK THAT B*TCH!”
“She’s Going to Be MAD at ME man, NOT YOU! I got to hear that B.S. about this. Plus, she still OUR BOSS!”
“You WORK for the station and gets PAID man. I’m an intern– I DON’T. Hell, Tell Her I DID IT!”
So anyway, we found out what we did about the bitch. I don’t blame DJ Kool Ken, though. Hopefully, there’s was a lesson to be learned from that. You Gotta do what your boss tell you to do. But if you can circumvent some shit, and make yourself shine–that’s who ultimately is out here. That’s who the public see–YOU. You might have to see these people (fans) again–and you don’t want to give the wrong impression–or give off wrong vibes when you promoting yourself or anything. People will get highly upset over this little shit. I would rather leave em’ happy and with a good feeling about…
A.) The Radio Station–itself.
- B) Your Fans–yourself.
SO GIVE THAT SHIT TO THEM!
Working with Jay, on the other hand, was a total opposite. We would stop at the liquor store. Get us some Black Velvet Whiskey– because we were Broke-As-Hell-couldn’t even get any Jack Daniels–Good Old’ Intern Days. Cheap Liquor and all—We’re getting’ Fucked-Up. We were going to local Detroit Bars/Clubs like the Comfort Zone for example—again B*tches Everywhere. Jay and I were a lot alike me in that category, whereas we both was pulling em’. We would have contests to see who could get the sexest-baddest-b*tches in there. He was pulling female interns and older ladies—a real Ladies Man—I’ll give him that. All day. So, Jay and I got along great. Needless to say, we had a lot of fun. DaVita was gone she got fired–about a week or so after Kool Ken got fired. Karma is a motherfucker.
So we hangin’ tough, and what I did was reach back at Kool Ken and say:
“Kool Ken, shit–since DaVita’s gone–you might NOT be getting a check—but you could still roll out to some of the radio station events with us.”
I talked Jay into the shit too. “Man lets go get my dawg nigga. Fuck That Bitch—we’re going to do this shit together.”
We would literally, get the radio station truck/van–out of the garage–go get this nigga Kool Ken—and go to the radio station events. Or we would have him meet us down at the garage–whatever we had to do. It’s called “STICKING TOGETHER”. Plus, we out here networking–ok. The only difference now is that he’s the boss and you rolling’ out with us, so we were kind of like a—TRIPLE-THREAT.
[“BETTER THAN JAM MASTER JAY”]
Man, we had so much Fucking Fun—club after club–event after event—we got close. So at this point is what I mean DJ’s can be egotistical. We ego driven. Jay was DJing at a club, and of course, he wanted us to come down and check him out. We start setting up plans for bringing the radio station truck to where he was spinning at. Jay agreed. We would have the truck all weekend long–all over the city–Eastside | Westside | Downtown | Belle Isle–EVERYWHERE–Getting Fucked Up Too! So we hanging like wet clothes on a hanger. Jay wanted to see if we could get his night pumping and discuss and network with his boss on getting our own night. Sweet.
Now the Friday, before the day we were going to check him out. Mind you we–me and DJ Kool Ken–had NEVER heard him Spin (DJ)–before. We just always heard him TALK ABOUT IT—while WE talk about what we DO. So now this Friday coming–is going to be THE BIG DAY. Because, we get a chance to hear HIM SPIN MUSIC–Jay gets a chance to hear us DJ and spin music–We got the radio station promotion truck–I got one of “The Prettiest Women in The City” on my Fucking arm–I’m bringing her down–Jay bringing his girl down-everybody going to be chill in’ and shit. It looks like we were really doing it BIG! It was SWEET.
So on the way to the club, Jay makes this statement:
“Man, I love DJing, man, I LOVE THAT SHIT MAN.”
“Me Too” I reply.
“I didn’t have NO MENTOR, man. Niggas let me Get-On (and DJ) here-and-there. I continued on.
“A partner of mine bought some equipment man–he would let me come over and practice. He would show me Fader* and Crossfader*–I didn’t know how to hook the equipment up or nothing. All Trial and Error.”
⇒ FADER— Sliding or rotating control on a mixer that enables you to fade sound in or out. *
⇒ CROSSFADER— Horizontal switch that allows DJs to switch sound output between the turntables. * (*Both definitions from the Index of “ON THE RECORD” –The Scratch DJ Academy Guide)
He (Jay) says—and I quote:
“The ONLY Nigga I Think That’s Even CLOSE TO ME SPINNING (DJING) IS— JAM MASTER JAY.”
And when he said that…
[“THE ONLY PERSON I THINK THAT EVEN COMES CLOSE TO ME SPINNING (DJING) IS JAM MASTER JAY!”]
The AIR in the radio promotions van just STOPPED. It wasn’t NO AIR in that motherfucker. I was in the passenger seat of the van and it felt like, I was trying to reach for a BRAKE TO STOP THE TRUCK…
“What The Fuck Did You Just Say?” I said replied.
Keep in mind. Remember my list of Top 5 DJ Influences above? He said HE DJ’S LIKE #2.
“DID YOU SAY JAM-MASTER-MUTHERFUCKIN’ JAY–Who really was the FIRST Concert DJ”
You know, he did: “WALKED ACROSS COLISEUM FLOORS…” [“WALKED THIS WAY” – RUN D.M.C FT. MICK JAGGER]
“Jay man, Are YOU Sure?” I responded.
“Cause if that’s the case dawg–we going to the club Tonight–I’m supposed to Spin–I DON’T EVEN WANNA SPIN?!?! I Wouldn’t…Hell, That’s…SACRILEGIOUS…What you Just Said!”
“I Gotta See This Shit.”
I look back at Kool Ken like: “Man, you hear him?”
With a shocked look on his face–
“Yeah, man I heard him,” he replied.
We get to the spot. Now, I was in the DJ booth first–crowd starts coming in. I get everybody up–dancing. I ain’t doing nothing special just blending* music–it’s early. I’m playing mostly R&B-type shit; “Stepper’s/Ballroom Hustle” music like that. We had not gotten to the Gritty–Down to the Dirty Rap shit yet. It’s coming, though.
So man–The Moment of TRUTH comes. He goes up to the DJ booth, and tells me:
“Alright, I’m out” I echoed.
I go find my lady. Get a booth–sit down–get our drinks together and shit. I noticed that It took him awhile to get set up—5-minutes went by—he just put another song/record on. Maybe he in the DJ booth searching trying to get his records/songs/tracks together. All of a sudden, as soon as that second record came on—right behind it– you heard THIS sound—like:
That’s how he was SCRATCHING* THE RECORDS.
⇒ SCRATCHING— Invented by Grand Wizard Theodore, accidentally. The repetitious sound of moving the record back-and-forth greatly influenced the onset and development of hip-hop culture, and the music world has never been the same. (from the book: “ON THE RECORD” The Scratch DJ Academy Guide)
Now the beat or music was over here to the left. HIS SCRATCHING…WAS WAY OVER THERE—TO THE RIGHT.
NO RHYTHM…NO TIMING…It had NOTHING.
It was like a 3-year-old baby was up in the DJ Booth–jumped on the turntables—and just start FUCKING UP! The Crowd…was SO FUCKED UP. They just literally STOPPED ON THE DANCE FLOOR—DEAD IN THEIR TRACKS—Looked At The DJ Booth and Started Walking Off The Floor.
Just two records. Then HE calls himself really getting into it like…
And my girl at the time was like: “Baby, Un-Uh, He about to Kill-The-Vibe in this shit, could you please go up there? Please!”
I’m like: “Baby this HIS night, I CAN’T just go up there. But, SHE WAS RIGHT!
I’m trying to get a JOB with my dawg Jay–so I want this to be a GOOD NIGHT.
But how do you Tell YOUR FRIEND…WHOSE NIGHT IT IS TO SPIN (DJ)—WHO GOT THE JOB ALREADY—HE NEEDS TO COME OUT THE DJ BOOTH?
I couldn’t Do It. I told her: “We going to let him finish.”
So thankfully, he looked up and saw the dance floor empty. And he tried a Blend*…it sounded like Four- Flat-Fucking-tires: Blum…Blum…Blum…Blum…Blum…. Blum…. Blum.
⇒ BLENDING— When a DJ mixes two tracks by combining parts of each that don’t contain beats.
I’ve been there–when I first started DJing. When I first put two records on the turntable. I use to let the ride so I could get used to the fader. That’s what it sounded like. It was HORRIBLE. From a scale from 1 to 10 it was a zero with a line thru that motherfucker–It was the WORST.
This was My Friend–My Boss–My Co-worker–we all into DJing…How Do You? Man, that was hard. That was rough. Until this day, if I see Jay, I would give him nothing but love–It ain’t personal–you know.
Jay comes out the DJ booth–my girl sitting next to me—Kool Ken sitting across from me–and EVERYBODY FACE LOOK LIKE THEY JUST GOT THREW CHEWING GLASS—LIKE THE “WHAT THE FUCK” LOOK.
My girl says: “Well, baby I understand you don’t wanna go up there.”
“Naw, I don’t want to go up there.“ I defended.
Anybody could follow this shit but, If I go up in that DJ booth with what I got—It’ going to just–CRUSH THIS DUDE–and I ain’t Trying to do that.
So I say: “Kool Ken, you go up there.”
“What, I Gotta be clean-up man after that?” Kool Ken replies.
“It will be easy bro. Trust Me. I won’t be hard at all.” I said.
Matter of fact, I told Kool Ken what few tracks to start off with this–to get it going again. I played some Lil’ Jon & The Eastside Boyz— Show Nuff, “HEY” —everybody in the club starts getting Hype and Getting Back On the dancefloor.
So Jay comes out the DJ Booth straight to where I’m sitting—and he stands there with this: ”THE-CAT- THAT-SWALLOWED-THE-CANARY LOOK.” Showing All 32-teeth—Grinning and Shit—with a Slight-Sneer on his face like he had Just RIPPED THAT SHIT UP DAWG! And he said:
“YEAH, THAT WAS THE SHIT…NOW WASN’T IT?”
“Yeah…It Was Something” I said.
“It was Really…Truly…Something. I Have Not HEARD That BEFORE. You were RIGHT About That SHIT.”
“I was going to HEAR SOMETHING I NEVER HEARD BEFORE…AND I DID.”
I say that to say this. When you get into this game (The DJ Game), CHECK YOUR EGO AT THE FUCKING DOOR. It’s niggas like me…Jam Master Jay…Grandmaster Flash…that paved the way for your stupid ass. So before you try to step-up in them mutha fucking DJ shoes–please know what the fuck you talking about—please know what you doing. Because that could’ve went REALLY BAD for Jay. I could have taken his whole shit. Matter of fact, the manager tried to get me to take his place. After I had got my own nights up there. But I wouldn’t do it.
Until Jay came to me himself– after they started fucking with his money. I guess that’s the way the manager at WADE’S was trying to move him out the way–to move me in. But I NEVER Set Anything Up to take Jay’s spot. I having NOT done that to ANY DJ. And I WON’T. It’s ironic, I’m a security guard now, and working right around the corner from the same place I’m talking about, as we speak. How about that? Anyway, check your EGO AT THE DOOR—BE TRUE TO THE GAME AND IT WILL BE TRUE TO YOU. Anything you do. GET YOUR GRIND ON SO YOU GET YOUR SHINE ON. Keep your Shit (ATTITUDE) “IN CHECK”. Karma is a muthafucka, WHAT GOES AROUND DOES COME AROUND–so what you put out there—ATTITUDE, VIBE, CHOICES, DECISIONS–GOOD-OR-BAD—you’re going to get back.
Last case in point–and this is something I heard the other day. It’s just indicative of what I’m actually talking about. How a Street DJ–once they start going up the “Success Ladder” — might get with a Rap Artist or Rap Group–or get a position on the hot local Radio Station–or might be a DJ on the road touring–whatever–just going up the ladder. When they get up that success ladder, they start forgetting motherfuckers. People that put them in positions and opportunities to be successful. Matter of fact, NOT FORGET THEM BUT, START HATING ON EM’. Case in point, DJ ZAPP, a DJ in Detroit– another DJ I actually look up to. He was on the radio when I was coming up. He ALWAYS HAD SKILLS–ALWAYS TIGHT MIXES…BLENDS…SONGS. It was fun to listen to DJ ZAPP. He was and STILL is A DAMN GOOD DJ. Straight Up–you heard it from DJ Dark body’s mouth–HE SWEET. He had an event where they were giving him an honorary award–and I would say that’s a nigga that’s earned it. He’s been DJing 20-30 years or so. But to look at him now you wouldn’t know it...GOOD BLACK DON’T CRACK BABY!!!
*[The FB post that DJ Zapp posted about the incident]
There are other DJ’s and radio personnel at the event, of course, and the award–as I understand it–was coming from the radio station for years of hard work and faithful service. In the background, the very DJs–that have a little bit more status now–hanging around the so-called “Big Wigs” — that he trained or helped out. These DJs were in the background and they were saying:
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THEY GIVING HIM AN AWARD FOR… I KNOW I’M SWEETER THAN THIS NIGGA!”
Just Fucking-FOUL. Even if that’s the case–This Nigga PUT YOU ON–ASSHOLE! That’s why niggas like YOU are going to FALL OFF–Any-Motherfuckin’-Way. Cause guess what? Somebody else is going to come along and be SWEETER THAN YOU. You’re going to get older nigga. IT’S GOING TO BITE YOU IN THE ASS. And, I know where I would rather be further down the line because when I SEE DJs like–DJ Zapp and DJ Gary Chandler–people like that. When I see them—It is Nothing But Love. They’re wanting to go out to Baker’s Lounge and chop it up. They invite me to their events and parties. I GET IN when I get there– get my drink comped for me–ALL THAT! That’s just for THE REAL DJ’S I got NOTHING BUT LOVE 4 YOU. But YOU— FAKE-ASS-UNGRATEFUL-ASS-BITCH-ASS-NIGGAS CAN EAT A DICK! You know who the FUCK YOU ARE.
If you got a LUMP in your throat right now, or your HEART just sank when I said that Shit…I’M TALKING TO YOU.
Yep, I’m DJ DARKBODY…I Ain’t Hard to Find….DJ Hi-C…DJ Hen House…DJ Darkman…to ALL You Motherfuckers out here in THAT CIRCLE…YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. Yall Some B*tch-Ass-Motherfuckers! The DJs at the radio station–are REALLY SOME HOES–because it’s SO COMPETITIVE. You know, some of it I understand because you Gotta Keep That EDGE! They have the mindset like:
“I CAN’T let this Next DJ Get with ME–It’s MY SPOT/GIG. If I’m SLIPPIN’—or If I have A BAD NIGHT…I’M THRU.”
Let me tell you something as a DJ—Guess What! You’re Going to Have A BAD-FUCKING NIGHT! Yep, you’re human. Ain’t Shit Going to Go Right. Your Records/CDs are SCRATCHED UP and SKIPPING…Customers and The Strippers Are Getting On Ya’ Motherfuckin’ Nerves…YOU–Yourself Ain’t Feeling Too Good! But it’s the way and how you HANDLE that mutha fucking shit and it’s how you REBOUND! But see that’s for someone like me…I’m NOT worried about the NEXT MAN–OR NEXT DJ. I’m worried about…THE REBOUND—THE COMEBACK—THE HUSTLE—THE GRIND!
That’s what Floats-My-Fucking-Boat. I AIN’T WORRIED ABOUT THE NEXT NIGGA OR NEXT DJ! I’M NOT A BATTLE DJ*—ANYWAY–THAT AIN’T WHAT I DO. I LIKE TO MOVE THE MUTHAFUCKING CROWD — THAT’S WHAT I DO.
⇒ BATTLE DJ— A competition between DJs and/or MCs. It is a lot like a freestyle rap battle, but the competitors use records, turntables and mixers instead of rap lyrics.
When you really get into that…THE MUSIC…IT’S A UNIVERSAL CONSTANT. When I say that, I mean is it’s UNIVERSAL in the effect that—I’m from DETROIT. I can go over to CHINA—RIGHT NOW—And Set-Up DJ Equipment in a Club–I DON’T SPEAK A LICK OF CHINESE—THAT B*TCH WILL BE PACKED!!! MUSIC WILL BRING PEOPLE TOGETHER and It can also DESTROY. I’ve torn up clubs on purpose because I get into a heated argument with the manager over my money and it gets heated–whether he’s trying to take ALL THE-FUCKING Credit–but ain’t spinned/DJ’d a record his whole life– for the night going so Fucking Well or his Girlfriend–who works at the bar/club–don’t like the DJ or the music he is playing—Or Whatever- The-Fuck The Shit Is—I HOLD MINE DOWN.
My attitude is, I’m NOT here to Battle (with YOU, other DJs, Management, Staff, Customers, etc.). I’m here to use this POWER I got and to use it for the GREATER GOOD OR I CAN TEAR YOUR SHIT UP. If I’m arguing with this mutha fucker (manager) about business and I figure out at the end of the night that you’re NOT GOING TO BE ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS—OR PAY ME–I WILL TEAR YOUR MUTHAFUCKIN’ CLUB UP! The only problem with that is, once you figure out the POWER to this SHIT (DJING)–and YOU CAN DO IT–you got to remember—YOU IN THE CLUB TOO! You can get hurt just as quick as the next man. And in Detroit, when Niggaz start shooting—they DON’T GIVE a FUCK where THEM BULLETS GO.
Here’s a brief example: It happened at the same club “WADE’S”; I had got into it with the owner Wade. What happened was, he gave me 50-bucks and told me:
“Come back the next day to get the rest of your money.”
I told him: “I AIN’T GOT TIME to be coming back– “Chasing You” for ANY Money. Ok, Imma Jack-Off This $50 then run around tomorrow “Chasing You” for the other half of MY MONEY. That’s FUCKIN’ STUPID MAN—GIVE ME MY BREAD. THE CLUB DOING ALRIGHT.”
“I GOT SOMETHING ELSE TO DO AND I NEED MONEY. ” He barked back.
It was just some BULLSHIT. So I said:
“Ok Bitch, I Bet You I GET MY MONEY—TONIGHT.”
I told DJ Kool Ken to come in the DJ Booth with me because I wanted to show him something. I told him:
“I’M FINNA TEAR THIS MOTHERFUCKER UP! ON PURPOSE…YEP”
Now groups of people in the club getting champagne bottles” Popped”, Folks are having a beautiful time. Ordinarily, I should be HYPED IN THIS MUTHAFUCKER…RIGHT?!?! NAW!!! We finna go OVER THE CLIFF. And this is what you do:
You go through your CD/Records/MP3 and find THE MOST HATE–FILLED-LYRICS WITH THE WORST INTENTIONS. And when I get upset and I’m DJing–it comes out in my DJ Set. If you listen to the tracks that I play–you can figure out what I’m PISSED about. I will play the songs to show how my day is going. That Shit is UNCANNY. It’s like–a ZONE-THING when I start zoning and when I’m PISSED-OFF—My Mind Be Like…
“Oh Yeah, let me Throw This On…FUCK THESE NIGGAS…CAUSE NIGGA I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU…AND THIS IS HOW THE FUCK I DO, B*TCH…I’M UP IN THIS MOTHERFUCKER…AIN’T NOTHING BOUT TO GO THE WAY YOU THINK IT’S MOTHERFUCKING SUPPOSE TO GO.”
Oh boy. POWER.
So I told DJ Kool Ken:
“Now I’m going to play THREE SONGS. When I press the button to put that THIRD SONG—FUCKING DUCK!!!
Now, I have said that statement— ”DUCK” –on the microphone. I told other people and I told my friend in his face–when I DO certain things and I say “DUCK”. If you standing there going, ”HUH?!?” and you get FUCKED UP, That’s on YOU. That’s My Motto.
Sure Enough, I get to the THIRD RECORD–I still remember the record: “FUCK DEM OTHER N*GGAS” – C-Murder and Snoop Dogg— when he was with No-Limit Records. As soon as it comes on it’s a Heavy Bassline–
“Brum,Brum,Brum, Brum,Brum…Brum,Brum, Brum, Brum…Brum, Brum, Brum, Brum, Brum…Brum, Brum, Brum, Brum…”
That was one of the songs that were still Super-Hot even back then. When you pulled that record out—Niggaz Been Sitting There Salivating and Slobbering—waiting for it. You might have had a few request for it already. You (as a DJ would…) probably hold it until it was appropriate. I held it until I was ready to actually use it. I used it like– A FUCKING FIST. I had the Blends of the songs coming in SO HARD—what one person was saying on one record translated into what the other person was saying on the next record—so it’s like this—TRAIN—and it’s PICKING UP SPEED…PICKING UP SPEED…PICKING UP SPEED. Oh Shit, Look, there goes THE WALL…
I Looked at DJ Kool Ken. When we got to the third record–grabbed it–queued it up–then I said:
The Bassline came in.
“Brum,Brum,Brum, Brum,Brum…Brum,Brum, Brum…”
It was twin brothers who were sitting and drinking right in front of the DJ Booth front window–one brother stood up—standing right up over the other brother and PUNCHED HIM DEAD-IN-THE-FACE. Instantly they STARTED FIGHTING LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER!!! Two Brothers…next to kin…BROTHERS. They came in the club together. STARTED FUCKIN’ FIGHTING–EACH OTHER. I turned the music off. DJ Kool Ken hits me with “THE WTF/HELL NAH” look on his face. Then I got on the microphone:
“IF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS DON’T KNOW HOW TO ACT—I’LL SHUT THIS B*TCH—ALL THIS SHIT DOWN! I WON’T TURN ON A LIGHT BULB IN THIS B*TCH— SIT YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN’ ASSES DOWN!”
Sometimes you Gotta talk to them like that. They understand THAT more than “Please” and “Thank You”.
Sure enough, the 1st brother that threw the first punch and his brother started running toward the DJ Booth. The 2nd brother that got socked in the mouth–right behind him–both of them ran towards the entrance side of the DJ Booth and started dropped all kinds of MONEY—$10’s…$20’s…$100’s at the door saying:
“DON’T STOP DAWG…DON’T STOP DAWG…WE AIN’T TRYING TO FUCK THE PARTY UP MAN! WE BEEN OUT HERE HUSTLIN’–GETTIN FUCKED UP ALL-DAY. WE BEEN POPPIN’ PILLS AND SHIT—MAN WE WERE TRIPPIN’ MAN.”
Then his brother hopped in the DJ Booth and shouted:
“YEAH MAN, WE AIN’T EVEN BEEN SLEEP MAN. WE NOT EVEN MAD WITH EACH OTHER. SHIT WE BEEN TRAPPIN’ ALL DAY. MAN, PLAY THAT SHIT AGAIN…MAN YOU JUST GOT US SO DAMN HYPED—MY BAD DAWG—IT’S ALL MY FAULT!”
I played a slow song, mellowed the crowd out–including the wild-ass twin brothers—hit them with some more hyped shit and got the crowd back on the dance floor–partying. At the end of the night—I HAD MY MONEY. I DON’T PLAY LIKE THAT. YOU ARE GOING TO FUCKING PAY ME OR YOU GONE PAY FOR IT. I rather you go ahead and pay me—because your SUPPOSE to. I DO MY FUCKING JOB. And I just PROVED IT.
SO YOU WANNA BE A DJ HUH? And so ended the lesson.
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