Quick Update: Our Cancer, Our Cure
10/19/12
Fam,
Back in the mid-nineties, when I was
coming up in the rap game, there were several other Mexican-owned rap labels in
Houston. These guys made it more than clear that I was their competition, not the
music industry. Other rappers were selling millions of albums, yet they were
more concerned with what SPM was doing. The more I accomplished the more the
tension grew. Honestly, I can’t think of one other label, of those mentioned,
that didn’t have at least a few people hating on Dope House Records. Am I the
only person who sees how fucking sad that is?
Aren’t we supposed to be doing this
so that our kids can know that anything is possible? It never had to be me at
the top. I rooted for everyone, and wished everyone success.
I guess these fools thought if I got
hit by a truck, or a bullet, they would be able to take my place. Well, I did
get hit by a bullet so to speak, and I’ve been in prison the last fiscal decade.
Where are all these dudes at? I get every issue of Billboard and they’re not on
the charts. My last two albums were the number 6 and 5 rap albums in America. I’m
still the number one selling Mexican American rap artist in the nation, and
some of these same dudes are still talking down.
If you hate yourself, you’ll hate
your own kind. I got a letter the other day from a homie who said, “Los, my
little brother goes around telling people that he’s half black, but he’s a
full-blooded Mexican. He’s nineteen years old and hard to talk to. Do you have
any advice on what I can tell him?”
I’ve met people like that. For
whatever reason, it makes them feel more valuable to say they’re part White, or
Black, or Siberian Husky. This is the state some of us are in, and it’s
ridiculous because we’re a powerful race.
Our enemy is hate. It’s a cancer. On
my “Cages” update I spoke about how Mexican neighborhoods are infested with
gangs, and how all those kids inherit enemies. The institution of gangs is a
machine that takes kids and destroys their lives. The government knows that we’re
killing each other, but they look the other way. For some reason they don’t
want us to thrive, to be healthy so they appreciate the fact that we’re
eliminating ourselves. The end result is a race with few accomplishments to be
proud of.
Our solution is simple, and at the
same time, almost impossible. For those who have love, it’s just a matter of
using it. For those who don’t, well, how can you make chicken soup with no
chicken? Still, the answer is love. Do you have it? The Bible says that it’s
easy to love those who love you. Anybody can do that. You get no reward for
that. But when you love your enemies, those who curse you and hate you, that’s
when you have love.
I know you’ve heard people say, “As
long as a person shows me respect, I’ll show him respect. But if he has no
respect, he won’t get any from me.”
Well, fuck, it’s easy to respect
respectful people. Anyone can do that. That doesn’t mean you have respect. You
have real love, real respect, real kindness, when you have those things without
condition.
There’s lots of hateful people, but
most times it’s not personal. It’s more about who they are, rather than who
they’re hating on. If we were never born, they’d be talking shit about someone
else, trust me. Just like you drill a hole in hopes to strike oil, people hate
in hopes to strike drama. It’s an addiction that doesn’t allow them to be happy
with happy.
Some of us won’t join gangs, we won’t
be criminals, we aren’t hateful because we don’t want all the worry, the
stress, and darkness that comes from those lifestyles. Other of us don’t mind
at all because the drama is familiar to us. The feelings we experienced from
being raised in chaos are no different than the ones we get from living foolish
lives. Even in all the pain, we feel at home.
A while back I was watching Divorce
Court, and there was a Mexican American couple on there. The dude had tattoos
on his face like the make-up of a clown and it caught my attention. As I
listened in, I learned that he was a gang member who wanted to change his life.
He and his wife had a baby girl, and he wanted a better future for his
daughter. So the judge asked his wife, “Why do you want to divorce him?” She
answered, "Because I married a gangster, and that’s what I want.”
Peace and Happiness are treasures to
those who know them, but they’re strangers to those who don’t. And people don’t
feel comfortable around strangers. This chick didn’t feel satisfied in a
sensible environment. She wanted a vato she could be worried about, someone who
had dangerous enemies. She wanted to cry and be scared and do all the dumb shit
that goes with that lifestyle. It’s not that she’s making herself want these
things, they’re natural attractions, and people follow their hearts.
It starts from the very first day
you come into this world. In fact, during your first twelve months of life,
your brain absorbs more information than any other year you’ll ever live. That’s
why the first five years of life are so crucial, because you’re doing more than
learning, you’re being made.
There’s been people who have
overcome a poisonous upbringing, but it’s not because they were better, they
just had better resources. Maybe they were born with stronger minds, could
communicate well, learn faster. Maybe they had talents that impacted people.
This lifted them from a sad outcome, but they’ll still be troubled according to
whatever degree of pain they were raised in. Other people may not have had those
talents, same creativity, same creativity, same insight. But people like to be
heard and felt, and if they can’t touch others in a positive way, they’ll just
get good at hurting people.
The other day I was talking to a guy
on the recreation yard and he said, “I hear you, Carlos, but I don’t agree. I
hurt a lot of people, and I stayed in trouble, but I wasn’t raised in poison or
chaos. I had both my parents and all they did was love me. They gave me all
they could. I was a fucked up person because I chose to be.”
I asked him a few more questions,
and we both agreed that his parents spoiled him. We can’t forget that spoiling
a kid is just as chaotic as anything else. The kid grows up selfish and
hurtful, which is a result of being allowed to raise himself. There’s two kinds
of people in prison, the ones who weren’t given enough and the ones who were
given too much. Let your “no” be “no” and show your kids who the parent is. A
three-year-old couldn’t be the boss of a one-man hot dog stand, so why would
you let him be the boss of his own life?
I meet people all the time, and it’s
hard to have love for them. They’re selfish, hateful manipulative. It helps to
remind myself that there’s a reason why people do what they do. We’ll never
know exactly why, but we know there is a reason. In heaven we’ll be able to
watch films on people and be, like, “No wonder that motherfucker was a piece of
shit!” Hold on, I’m sorry. We’ll be,
like, “Pore eso el puto le valio` madre!” Just make sure the angel who’s
showing the film doesn’t know Spanish.
I’m not saying that you should try
to save every unfortunate person that comes your way, but don’t be one of the
dumbasses who hates them.
If someone is trying to get their
fix of drama by fucking with you, don’t lose the game. Remember, this is about
them, not you. All these people ever get is hate in return for their hate, and
no one benefits from that. Firefighters don’t pull up to burning houses with
flamethrowers. Those houses need water, and those haters need love. If you don’t
have the time, just say, “Look. bro, I love you, and I have nothing to say. I’ll
just get out of your way.”
Exercise your love, and you do that
with work-out equipment called “haters.” The more love you build up, the more
powerful you’ll become. Does anybody know what God is, as far as what he’s made
of? The Bible says God is love. It doesn’t say he has love, it says he is
love. If that doesn’t tell you how powerful love is, I don’t know what will.
It’s not our job to judge people,
because that’s an impossible task. How the fuck do we know what people were
made with? The more love you have, the more vision you’ll gain. Whether dealing
with someone fifteen or fifty remember that those who were poisoned end up
needing that poison just to feel complete.
Here, in this prison, a funny thing
goes on during football season. You’ve got these hard core Dallas Cowboy fans,
then you’ve got what people call “Cowboy Haters.” The “haters” celebrate
everytime the Cowboys lose. No matter who Dallas plays, they cheer for the
other team. But do you really believe they hate the Cowboys? Did Tony Romo run
over their puppy, then back-up and run it over again? Did Miles Austin take
their parking spot then get out of his car and do a touchdown dance? Who they’re
really hating on is the Cowboy fans. They know they’ll get a reaction which gives
them the drama they’re seeking. One guy will yell out “Them Cowgirls got that
pussy!” and all hell will break loose.
It reminds me of the love you have
for me, and I love you too. But these haters are using your love to get their
fix. Do you really think they know me? They damn sure can’t say they know I’m
guilty. You need to see what’s going on. Justin Beiber jumps on stage and the
crowd goes berserk. A hater jumps on the internet, and the crowd goes berserk.
They’ve got nothing to back up what they say because there was no evidence in
my case. How could there be? The dumb bitch, Officer Ruiz, told Atlantic
Magazine what a guilty person I was, yet she’s the same person who refused to
collect, or ever try to collect any evidence. Why? Because she knew
there would be none. All she’s doing is covering up for herself because the
system knows they fucked me over.
Like I said, most times the hate is
nothing personal, but sometimes it could be. Ya never know, a few of these
haters could be enemies I made somewhere down the road. Maybe someone who
caught me on a bad day, and thought I was rude. Or someone who’s girlfriend
ended up in my hotel room. I gave more hoes dick breath than a 1970’s porno
star.
Mostly, though, people just enjoy
hurting people. Whether it’s politics, the Cowboys, SPM, they’ll do anything to
pick a fight. The internet, I’ve learned, is a great place to spit-box all
got-damn day. Don’t fall into that world. Next thing ya know, you’re
sixty-years-old and didn’t do a fucking thing in life.
I’m not saying you shouldn’t respond
to hateful people but do it with love. They can tell if they’ve upset you by
the way you respond. If you don’t have the love to deal with them, don’t worry
together we’ll grow, and get to where we need to be, Lord willing.
It’s funny because Incandesio has
never heard me talk about playerism yet she handles haters so beautifully. Even
when they call her names, she never stoops down to their level. She knows that
when you hate them, you become them. She told this one guy, “It warms my heart
that you would spend some time on my blog.”
How true that is. We only have a
certain amount of heartbeats, and after that number is up, our time on earth is
up. If someone is spending heartbeats on us, we must be important to them.
There’s an old song that says “There’s
a thin line between love and hate.” There’s also a thin line between hate and
love. These haters are spending time with us because they want to be a part of
what we’re doing. Their part isn’t exactly positive, but they make the game
complete. How can you run a touchdown without people trying to tackle you? To
be a winner, there has to be a loser, and that’s why haters are so important.
The guy who Incandesio responded to, called me a child molester, or a child
rapist, or something to that nature. I don’t think it gets any worse than that,
but this guy doesn’t know me. He’s basically just saying, “Hey, I’ve got
nothing to do, so I’m hoping you guys will let me in the game.”
I have no problem with that, because
I’ve been getting hated on all my life. Way before these charges, way before my
rap career, Carlos Coy has always been extremely loved by the player race, and
extremely hated by the hater race. It’s kept me on my toes, kept my mind at
work, and made me who I am today.
When I was free, I would have put
that hater’s brain in his lap because my understanding was average, at best.
But, not only has prison saved my life, it’s encouraged more personal growth
than anything I’ve ever faced. If I had the chance to respond to that guy
today, I would say something like this: “I’m sorry you feel that way, little
brother, and honestly, I’d probably feel the same way. I used to think that if
you’re found guilty in a court of law, it’s because you were guilty. But I
learned how untrue that is. I saw, with my own eyes, a courtroom operating like
a corrupt, third world country. One day I’ll get a new trial and prove my
innocence and I’d love for you to join us. Our movement is nothing complicated,
it’s just about helping our youth stay out of gangs, helping those on destructive
paths, and jammin to the dopest music on earth. For now, I’m sorry your role is
to hate, but it’s all part of the plan. I need you just like I need those who
love me. You keep me focused, and although it gets tiresome, it strengthens me
more than you know. Just watch as I grow more powerful, and I say that with all
respect.”
Well, my people, we’ve come to an
end, but I’ll be writing you more, shortly. Let me say that everything I wrote
on this letter, I wrote for you and for me. I struggle and slip just
like anyone else. On my last “SPM Responds”, I called haters every dick-lickin,
nut-nibblin, bitch-born bastard in the book. I’m damn sure not as good as
Incandesio, but, like I said, together we’ll grow, and get to where we need to
be, Lord willing.
Con Amor,
Los
Quick Sixteen
"Ex-plain That"
Seven hundred cold days that my pen lay flat
first line slapped the game into a ten-day nap
second line was like feedin unfed stray cats
can't ya see that people tired of this ben gay rap
nigga snatch ya by the throat, twenty neck veins snap
every word that I write, let the death rate stack
Los tie compitition to some wet train tracks
fuck a steppin stone, make'em bloody flesh paved paths
ain't but one fuckin king in this chess game match
I am he, nigga hotta than a jet plane's ass
even laws tryna ask me where my webpage at
go to "S" to da "P" dot Mex SAVE SLASH
let the haters and the so-called best stay mad
just pulled it out the microwave, fresh-made crack
see I died a dark death, bitch, but then came back
next album is The SON, tryda ex-plain that....haha!
