Ronald Reagan’s hip-hop nightmare

Since it's inception, one of the first things that hip hop exposed was the problems of it's communities. The infestation of drugs in communities has always been an issue that has been rapped about. I found this article and wanted to share it since we're talking about hip hop this week.

The hip-hop community is convinced Reagan oversaw a vast trafficking network during the crack epidemic. Is it true? You be the judge...

Ronald Reagan’s hip-hop nightmare: How an ugly cocaine controversy reignited 30 years later

Two recent films are reigniting a debate that was never really settled, not for everyone: Did President Ronald Reagan permit (or even facilitate) the sale of tons of cocaine into the American inner city during the height of the crack crisis? It’s likely that audiences of “Kill the Messenger” and “Freeway: Crack in the System” will be shocked to hear the allegations. The reverence shown Reagan, much of it bipartisan, shields the late president’s legacy from the Iran-Contra affair’s web of gun-running, terror support and narcotrafficking. Reagan, so grandfatherly, so esteemed, couldn’t have possibly presided over such criminality, right?

Right?

There’s a good chance your favorite rapper indicted Reagan long before these new films. That Reagan permitted or actively facilitated a massive influx of cocaine during the 1980s is not even an allegation in the hip-hop community — it’s accepted fact, political bedrock. And it’s not underground agitprop artists no one’s ever heard of making the claims; it’s household names, legends, global superstars.

Jay-Z has made the allegation multiple times, both on records and in print. On 2007’s “Blue Magic,” Hova, a former crack dealer, raps:

Blame Reagan for making me into a monster

Blame Oliver North and Iran-Contra

I ran contraband that they sponsored

Before this rhymin stuff we was in concert

Jay even flirts with American sacrilege and makes a faint equation with Osama bin Laden on his 2003 remix of Punjabi MC’s “Beware of the Boys”:

It’s international Hov, been having a flow

Before Bin Laden got Manhattan to blow

Before Ronald Reagan got Manhattan the blow

Long before al Qaeda’s attack on the World Trade Center, Hov says, Reagan had already decimated the city (or parts of the city) with his “blow.” The parallel construction of the lines likens the two figures in a way. Jay repeats the accusation in his 2010 autobiography “Decoded,” in which he expands the indictment to involve Reagan’s simultaneous escalation and racialization of the “War on Drugs.” Platinum-selling artist Pusha T, signed to Kanye West’s G.O.O.D. Music, echoes Jay-Z’s dual indictment in his music, considering both the alleged narcotrafficking and the concurrent drug war. Pusha also delivers nice wordplay on “Along in Vegas,” with the line “Reagan era I ran contraband,” which embeds the phrase “Iran Contra” in the lyric about Pusha’s former life as a dealer.


Kanye West, arguably the heir to Jay-Z’s throne, makes the claim as well on his 2005 “Crack Music”:


How we stop the Black Panthers?

Ronald Reagan cooked up an answer

Kanye nudges the allegation into conspiracy theory territory, as many do, suggesting that the trafficking was expressly intended to quell black radicalism brewing in the increasingly desperate inner city during the 1970s and ’80s. 2Pac offered a similar theory on his much-beloved “Changes”:


First ship ‘em dope and let ‘em deal to brothers

Give ‘em guns, step back, watch ‘em kill each other

No evidence exists to support these claims, and the overblown propositions potentially distract from the ample available evidence pointing to criminality on all three fronts of Iran-Contra: arms sales to Iran, support for Contra guerillas, and the bringing of Contra-based cocaine into the country. The single surviving memo from Colonel Oliver North’s infamous “shredding party” reveals the administration’s arms sales to Iran, a state sponsor of terrorism according to the Reagan State Department. The 1989 Kerry Committee report found that “[i]t is clear that individuals who provided support for the Contras were involved in drug trafficking” and that “[i]n each case, one or another agency of the U.S. government had information regarding the involvement either while it was occurring, or immediately thereafter.” The report goes on to detail how U.S. officials “failed to address the drug issue for fear of jeopardizing the war efforts against Nicaragua.”

So while a sturdy case can be made for willful negligence on the part of the Reagan White House to stem the flow of cocaine, the less defensible cocaine-as-social-control theory remains a popular one. Yasiin Bey (BKA actor/rapper Mos Def) offered his version on his 1999 classic “Mathematics”:


Nearly half of America’s largest cities is one-quarter black

That’s why they gave Ricky Ross all the crack

Bey refers to “Freeway” Ricky Ross, the subject of “Freeway: Crack in the System,” allegedly the primary conduit through which the Contras’ cocaine flowed into the American inner city. Two rappers, former Jay-Z labelmate Freeway and superstar Rick Ross, both derive their stage names from the Los Angeles kingpin. At its height, Ross’ coast-to-coast coke empire was selling half a million crack rocks per day. The LA Times reported on the infamous crime boss in 1996, finding that “if there was one outlaw capitalist most responsible for flooding Los Angeles’ streets with mass-marketed cocaine, his name was ‘Freeway’ Rick.” Ross himself claims that his connection was a CIA agent, and the CIA itself admitted to turning a blind eye to Contra cocaine traffickers in the 1998 report from the agency’s Inspector General, but theories based on a master plan to chemically subdue black Americans are too outlandish to be considered.

Before Jay, Kanye and Yasiin Bey were Golden Era icon KRS-One and Rage Against the Machine’s Zack de la Rocha, whose 1998 “CIA (Criminals In Action)” took aim at the intelligence agency’s involvement in the affair. Forming a trio with The Last Emperor, the rappers offer a critique in the vein of Kanye and Yasiin Bey’s, but both broadened and more substantive than the latter’s accusatory couplets. The song weaves together postcolonial theory and critiques of neoliberalism, imperialism and the surveillance state to situate alleged government narcotrafficking in a wider web of power. KRS and de la Rocha exchange lines in the song’s hook:


You claim I’m sellin crack, but you be doin’ that!

You know the cops, they got a network for the toxic rock!

“CIA (Criminals In Action)” was perhaps the first substantial accusation of Washington’s narcotrafficking. Nearly 15 years later, the most recent lyrical assault of note, Atlanta rapper Killer Mike’s 2012 “Reagan,” echoes the song’s expansive critique and demonstrates that the anger felt toward Reagan has both intensified and spread in the intervening years. The song interrogates the national security apparatus, the prison industrial complex and racism from Reagan to the present, which, by including President Obama in the indictment, presents persistent Reaganism as the real danger.

“Reagan” is a fan favorite from Mike’s album “R.A.P. Music,” a collaboration with Brooklyn producer El-P that made the rapper the new darling of Pitchfork and other indie tastemakers. On Rap Genius, the song’s lyrics have been viewed nearly twice as often the next-most-popular song on the album. While the early anti-Reagan songs communicated the message among the rap underground and traditional hip-hop audiences, Killer Mike’s angry anthem is a favorite to a largely white listenership. In live performances, Killer Mike often recites the song a capella, despite the track’s bombastic production, in an attempt to drive the lyrics home to white, middle-class audiences. Mike concludes the song in concert by rousing the audience to join him in repeating the song’s last line: “I’m glad Reagan dead!” The crowd, a sea of raised middle fingers during the explosive coda, screams in unison this American heresy. Something is changing.

As Tea Party canonization brightens the aura around the late president for the right, Killer Mike’s “Reagan” reveals a contrapuntal, inverse reaction on the left and among many youth. In the age of Occupy and the Tea Party, diverging attitudes toward Reagan represent a widening gulf between political poles, between generations, between holders of privilege and those without. The anger of those left behind during the Reagan era is perhaps now an anger shared by younger Americans whose futures feel sacrificed to the prerogatives of those with their hands on the levers of power, whether in legislative houses or boardrooms.

The sea change may not be apparent to some observers of Washington politics. While Reagan’s legacy suffers rot and corrosion among black Americans and an increasing number of white youth, he remains unchallengeable in Washington. Even President Obama, the socialist bogeyman to conservatives, cites Reagan to justify policy propositions and endear himself to conservative audiences. Obama acknowledges that Reagan altered the course of history in a way that no one since Lyndon Johnson has matched. Some critics contend that the change promised with the election of Obama has done little to sway the general direction charted by Reagan.

Ultimately, as anti-Reaganism solidifies and spreads, the argument is not only about whether cocaine was allowed to be dumped into black neighborhoods; it is about who gets sacrificed in the service of power. To some degree, and we’ll likely never know the extent, black Americans were seen as expendable in the mad dash to illegally fund pro-capitalist guerrillas in Central America. The documented arm sales to Iran to fund the Contras made expendable an unknown number of Iraqis during the two nations’ bloody eight-year war. Reagan is not, in hip-hop parlance, merely a “dead president,” but a national metonym for power, privilege and a particularly brutal means of its defense. “They only love the rich, and how they loathe the poor,” raps Killer Mike in “Reagan,” a song that ultimately aligns a global myriad of the relatively powerless against the elite, symbolized by Reagan.




http://www.salon.com/2014/11/17/ronald_reagans_hip_hop_nightmare_cocaine_controversy_reignites_30_years_later/

F#%k tha police

F#%k the police comin straight from the underground
A young brutha got it bad cause I'm brown
And not the other color so police think
they have the authority to kill a minority - Ice Cube (F#%k tha Police)

I don't like the police.

Never have. Never will.

I know that they are here to serve and protect. I know that they have a thankless job. I know that 99% of cops are good people. I guess I'm just a magnet for the 1% of cops that are racist assholes. Let me take you back to the summer of 1998 when a young Kyle got pulled over THREE times in ONE week for the same offense...DWB (driving while black)

SUNDAY

I was riding in the car with my boy, JFresh. We had just come from downtown Atlanta and were headed to our townhouse in nearby Marietta. We were waiting at a traffic light when we saw a cop get behind his car. As soon as we made a right turn, the blue lights came on. JFresh, who was driving a sleek black Acura Integra, was calm. He showed the officer his papers and license. The police officer NEVER said why he pulled us over. He just asked if he lived in the area because J's drivers license and license plate were both from the state of South Carolina. He told him the officer that he was a student at Georgia Tech (which was a lie). The officer let us go. All we could do was shake our heads. There was so much crime in Cobb County at the time but WE get pulled over?

WEDNESDAY

I was driving alone. I was on my way back to my apartment after leaving the movies. I was on the same street that I was on just a few days earlier. I made a right turn at the same light. Same results...blue lights! The cop was nice but never said WHY I was pulled over. I didn't ask. Didn't have to. Wrong color.

If I was old, they'd probably be a friend of me
Since I'm young, they consider me the enemy - Ice Cube (Tales from the Darkside)

FRIDAY

I left Atlanta that day and was headed to my hometown, Florence, South Carolina, for the weekend. I'm cruising down Interstate 20 with the windows down. I'm driving through Madison County (about an hour outside of Atlanta) when I see a cop "hiding" in the bushes in the median. I look at my speedometer and it's reading at "60 mph" and the speed limit is 65. I drive past the cop. He sees me and pulls out onto the highway immediately. I saw him pull onto the highway but I didn't know he was coming after me. The next thing I know...I see the blue lights...AGAIN!!! The officer asks me for my information and I give it to him. After a few minutes, he comes back and here's what he says...

Cop: "Sir, where are you headed?"

Me: "I'm headed to Florence, SC"

Cop: "Where are you coming from?"

Me: "I'm coming from Atlanta." (Why do you wanna know asshole?)

Cop: "Can you step out of the car? I'd like to search the car...if that's okay with you, sir."

Me: "Sure. If you want to search it...go ahead." (What the hell you think you gonna find fatboy?"

I step out of the car and stand in the grass as this dude looks around my Nissan Sentra (not a Bentley but a Sentra). At this point, I'm sure that SEVERAL of my civil rights have been violated.

Cop: "Can I look in your trunk?"

Me: "Yeah." (I hope you don't see the dead body back there)

I open the trunk. Nothing back there but my bag

Cop: "Sir, can I open up the bag? I have to ask first...do you have any drugs or guns in this bag"

Me: I chuckled. "No, l left them at home."

Cop: "I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you. It's just that we have lot of drug trafficking between here and Texas. We have been cracking down on it."

Me: "I would never sell drugs." 

Cop: "You are free to leave, sir. Have a good day."

I wonder what was the dead giveaway that day. Was it my hooptie? Was it the Yankees fitted hat that I had on backwards? I know what it was. And so do you. How else would somebody explain getting pulled over by cops 3 times in a week? I did what my parents always told me...1) be calm & cordial 2) always let them see your hands 3) never ride with more than 3 other black kids in a car because you WILL get pulled over.

I have 3 sons. What will I tell them about the police? I'll tell them this story as well as my other run-ins with the cops. I would like to think things will be different for them.

I doubt it.

lost ones

Some of my fondest memories of playing football came when I was 8 yrs old. 

I would always play sandlot football with all of my friends. 

I made sure that I was always on the same team with my buddy, EJ. He was one of my best friends. We were the same age and we always played together every day. EJ lived in the same apartment complex that I did. EJ and I always were on the same team when we played football because he could play quarterback and I could catch any ball that he threw to me. We were always tight but we formed a special bond when we played football. We both loved the game and loved school. We had similarities but we were different. While I lived with both of my parents, EJ lived with his aunt, her 4 kids, and her boyfriend. I don't ever remember meeting EJ's parents. He always said they were living in NYC and they were coming to get him for the summer. 

I lived in the building in the background of this picture. The area of grass behind the building was our "football field". We treated it like it was the Rose Bowl. That's where I honed my skills and where I learned the game. EJ and I would meet some days on the field just to play catch. We would spend hours every day outside. This was the early 80s! This was the era before video games and MTV. We knew how to have fun. We didn't realize that we didn't have much because everybody in the "projects" were just like us...black people living in low income housing. While you could never confuse our neighborhood with Cabrini Green or Bed Stuy, we didn't live in the nicest section of Florence, SC. I never felt unsafe, though. By the time I was 10, my parents bought a house and we moved away. I was still attending the same elementary school so I would still see my buddy, EJ at school. We'd play football at recess and have a good time. We never missed a beat. Friends forever.

"But like the old saying goes / Time goes on, and everybody grows." - Tupac Shakur

By the time I was 14, my parents divorced and I moved to another side of town. I was no longer going to school with EJ. I didn't have his phone number so we lost contact for a few yrs. On day during my junior of high school, I was hanging at the mall and I ran into EJ. We both were excited to see each other. We spent about an hour catching up. Much to my surprise, EJ was going to West Florence High (one of my high school's rivals). He was supposed to be going to South Florence but he got into some trouble and left. He told me that he knew I was at Wilson High and doing well on the football field. We exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch.

The following year was our senior year. The first game of the season was against West Florence. Whenever you play a rival, you want to win but I had more incentive because I knew EJ would be at the game. I couldn't let my homie down. I had a great game...5 catches for 125 yards, 1 touchdown. More importantly, we won. It's ALWAYS great when you beat West Florence. After the game, I looked for EJ. I didn't see him. I called him the next day but the number that I had was disconnected. Later that day, I drove past his aunt's house (they eventually moved from the apartment complex) but the house was empty. Not only was it empty but it was abandoned. EJ had moved but I didn't know where he was. I was disappointed that he had disappeared without even telling me where he was heading. It would be another year before our paths crossed again.

During the fall of my freshman year at South Carolina State University, I decided to come home one weekend. I was being red shirted on the football field so I wasn't playing. I was homesick so a trip to Florence was necessary. During the weekend, I decided to drive past my old neighborhood. I parked my car and decided to walk on the old "football field". Nothing looked the same. The buildings looked different. There were no kids playing outside. It looked gloomy. But it felt good to be back. I stood and thought about the days of playing football with EJ and my friends. All of a sudden, I heard someone call my name. It was EJ! I was shocked to see him. We greeted each other with a pound and a hug. I was happy to see him. He told me that he heard I was a "star football player" at SC State. I laughed and told him that I was just a lowly freshman trying to find my way. I asked him about where he had been for the past year and what happened to him. That's when the complexity of the conversation changed. EJ stumbled through a few lies before he admitted that he dropped out of school. He and his cousins had moved out of his aunts house back into the apartments. When I asked him what he was doing with his life, he quickly changed the subject. After EJ's cousin walked over to inform him that "somebody was waiting for him around the corner"...I realized that EJ was selling drugs. I didn't want to believe it at first. I gave EJ my number and told him to call me. I told him when I'd be home again and I suggested that we hang out. I even offered him to come to SC State to hang out with me. He looked at the ground...then he looked away and said..."Nah, Kyle. You've changed. Things have changed. And it ain't like how it used to be." Those words felt cold but that was his reality. I gave him a hug and a pound and told him to take it easy. I watched him walk away and around the corner.

I pondered those words for awhile. Had I really changed? Did I make him feel like we weren't cool anymore? I never tried to make him feel like I was successful and he wasn't. Maybe he saw that the two kids who were once the best of friends were headed in opposite directions. We were headed in different directions. That was the last day that I saw EJ. He'd spend the next few years selling drugs. He eventually got caught and went to jail. I heard that he eventually started using drugs. The past 5 yrs of EJ's life have consisted of him being in and out of jail and drug rehab. Sometimes when I go back to my hometown, I secretly hope I bump into him. There's a part of me that would like to see him. There's a part of me that doesn't want to see him. He's lost. I can't help him because he doesn't want to help himself. Rather than dwell on what we lost, I prefer to remember us as kids. And I'm cool with that.

needles & reefer

I had an appointment with my doctor yesterday.

Before I could see the doctor, I had to get my blood drawn by the nurse.

We engaged in small talk right before she was about to stick me with the needle. She noticed that I turned my head in the opposite direction from the needle.

"Are you scared of a needle, sir."

"No ma'am. Not scared at all."

"I was wondering why you turned your head away from the needle."

"It's something that I've always done. I never wanted to get used to the site of a needle going into my arm for ANYTHING. I could never be a junkie. Drugs have never been my thing."

"Well, not all drugs are bad. Take marijuana, for instance. It can be used for medical use."

I chuckled and rolled down the sleeve on my shirt. No need for me to engage in a conversation with her about marijuana. I know very little about it. I know what it's called...

weed
erb
purple haze (purp)
budda
gunjah
blueberry
chronic
cheebah
mary jane
brown sugar
doobie
sticky icky
Bob (short for Bob Marley)
pot
weed
left handed cigarette
and my personal favorite...reefer (i actually use this term)

I've never tried it. I don't pass judgment on those who have tried it or still use it. I just never saw the need to try it. Maybe I was scared that I might like it. No thanks...I'll pass. But I know very few people who have not at least TRIED reefer in their lifetime.

And judging from the way she sounded today, the 60 something year old, white nurse STILL enjoys having a puff or two of her own reefer.

i gotta story to tell

Growin up in the hood just my dog and me
We used to hustle in the hood for, all to see
Problems, I called on him, he called on me
We wasn't quite partners, I hit him off my P
Met him unlocked doors, off my keys
Yeah we spoke, much more than cordially
Man he broke bread with me, my business spread swiftly
The Feds came to get me, we both fled quickly
Wasn't quick enough to jump over the hedges with me
Got caught, and that's when our relationship strayed
Used to call me from the joint til he ran out of change
And when he called collect and I heard his name
I quickly accepted, but when I reached the phone
he's talkin reckless, I can sense deceit in his tone
I said, "Damn dawg, what, nine weeks and you're home?"
He said, "Main man, you think shit's sweet cause you're home."
I just sat, spat no more speech in the phone
The crackers up there bleachin your dome, you're reachin
I said, "The world don't stop I've got to keep keep on."
From there I sensed the beef was on
I ran to the spy store to add some more features on my phone
To see if I had bugs and leeches on my phone
Can't be too safe cause niggaz is two-faced
And they show the other side when they catch a new case
It's on

Jay Z (A Week Ago)


Soulmates. Inseparable. A great compliment to each other. That's what people thought when they saw the 2 of them together. Xavier and Reign. He was that dude that everybody liked. If you ever heard someone say something bad about him, it'd be because they were simply hating on him. Xavier was a good catch...and he knew it. He had graduated from Howard with a degree in business administration. He came from humble beginnings in East Atlanta. His childhood home was located in the slums in the shadows of Turner Field. Not many dudes from his neighborhood finished high school...none went to college. Not only did he finish college but he just got his masters from Morehouse. To say that he made his momma proud is an understatement.

Reign was no slouch either. She had rec'd her undergraduate degree from GaTech. She was one of the best in her class. It spoke volumes to see a sista doing very well in her field despite being a minority. They had been friends for 2 years but they had been dating for a year. They had no kids but you could see that marriage was on the horizon for them.

Xavier was an entrepreneur. He owned several small business (barber shops, car washes, etc.). He also had a several investment properties. He had a keen business sense. Reign was fully aware and proud of Xavier's business accomplishments. She didn't like the fact that Xavier had employed his brother to help with some property management. Xavier's brother, Rodney, was a knucklehead. He was always getting into trouble. Every time Xavier did well in school, Rodney came home with bad grades. Rodney had also been in and out of jail for various reasons.

One day, Xavier leaves his house to pick up Reign for dinner. They went to a fancy seafood spot in the city. After dinner Xavier excuses himself from the table...only to return with a box in his hand. He got on one knee and proposed to her. She cried tears of joy and accepted his proposal. They immediately set the wedding date for a month from that day that they were engaged.

Two weeks before the wedding, Rodney was arrested for driving with a suspending license. After the cops pulled him over, they found a loaded gun in the car. Xavier called Reign to let her know what had happened and he told her that he'd bail him out. Well, that didn't sit well with Reign and she decided to go to Xavier's house to find out what was going on. On her way there, she rec'd a phone call from her friend Janet. Janet was a well known gossiper. And when she called...she usually had dirt on somebody. Janet was a dispatcher for the county police dept and that made matters worse.

Reign: "Hello"

Janet: "Hey girrrrrrrl. You ain't gonna believe what I just found out."

Reign: "Janet...I'm not in the mood. Rodney just got arrested and Xavier is gonna bail him out.

Janet: "I know that already. Tell me something that I don't know."

Reign: "Huh? What the fuck are you talking about? I know what's going on. I'm not in the mood for your silly shit today."

Janet: "You betta listen to me. Do you know everything? I know everything. I know about the crew, the money, and everything in between."

Reign: "Huh? Will you make some sense please?"

Janet: "They are about to come down on the crew. Xavier and Rodney are members of the Parkside Crew. They are about to get charged for all of this dope on the streets, guns, and some dead bodies that turned up in Decatur. My source told me that they are trying to get Rodney to wear a wire to set Xavier up so that he'll do less time than him. Mmmmm hmmm, girl. This shit is about to hit the fan. You need to cut him off before they drag you into it. If I was you I would..." CLICK

Reign hung up the phone. She was speechless. She knew that her man wasn't some drug dealer. She'd never even seen him around those kinda folk. He didn't dress flashy nor did he have any thing that would suggest otherwise. He had the investment properties and businesses. Could they have been a front so that he could launder his drug money through them? How could this be? They are getting married in 2 weeks. How could he be tied up with a notorious drug gang in Atlanta? What was SHE gonna do? Before she knew it, she had pulled her car into his driveway. He was walking out of the house and was headed to bail out his lil brutha. She froze when she saw him. What should she do? Should she let him know about the wire? Should she leave him and protect her own neck? Should she act like she doesn't know anything? Is HER life safe? What should Xavier do? What would YOU do?

Holllllllllllla!