“Dog Man X’ is what it stands for, and when they “let the dogs out”, Earl Simmons was there. His music began to climb the charts with the release of “It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot” (1998), which included “Ruff Ryders’ Anthem”. The CD sold more than four (4) million copies. He was immediately compared to the inimitable Tupac (by all but yours truly – no one . . . we’ll tackle that some other time), even to the point of his early arrests and most notably, being accused of raping a stripper. DNA evidence later cleared him of the rape charges.
The hits kept coming, and his popularity continued to rise. “Flesh Of My Flesh, Blood Of My Blood” was released in the same year and it went three (3) times platinum. He became the second rapper to have two (2) albums released the same year and have them both debut at number one. Oh, btw – the first to do it was Tupac.
Now – try to keep up, please:
” . . . And Then There Was X” (1999) debuted at number one (his 3rd straight CD to 
do so). It went six (6) times platinum!!! It was, most certainly, his best selling CD.
“The Great Depression” (2001) debuted at the top of the charts. It quickly gained platinum status and was not only his 4th CD to debut at number one, but his 4th straight CD to do so!
“Grand Champ” (2003) became his 5th straight CD to debut at number one on the charts. With the advent of this CD, he made history: the ONLY artist to ever have five CD’s debut at number one! His next CD, “Year Of The Dog . . . Again” (2006) missed being number one by a mere few thousand sales.
DMX has more arrests on the books than Carter has little liver pills. That is usually the only impetus that a rapper needs to boost record sales. If that theory held true, then DMX should still be “alive and well” in the music business and still kickin’ some mad a$$. Not so. Two (2) CD’s, “Walk With Me Now” and “Fly With Me Later” were slated to be released in the latter part of 2008. They got pushed back, scheduled for release in 2009 along with a . . . get this . . . gospel CD!! So . . . where did the dog man go wrong? Beats me. What I do know is that, in my book, he should be listed alongside the others in “Where Are They Now?” (besides incarcerated, that is). I sadly witness his fade to black and say “OK, then, bye-bye.” Peace.
copyright © 2009 freedom
freerealm@gmail.com
“Ruff Ryders’ Anthem” by DMX (explicit lyrics)
the realm of darkness 
young white sburbanite (excerpt from “the village”)
Posted in humor, music, poetry, politics, prose, racial discrimination, satire and sarcasm, social commentary with tags 50 cent, 8 mile, beamers, Beyonce, blackstarr, BMW, brown suga, club, cruisin', culture, dance, dope, drugs, eminem, fashion, fiddy, flava, friday night, gansta, guilt, hip-hop, homies, Lose Yourself, music, open mike, phat, Philly, poetry, rage, rap, reality, Rolling Rock, silverspoon, sistas, suburbanites, the wordsmith's alley, trailerpark, urban legend, white, white powder, whitebread, youth on August 27, 2010 by joelle blackstarron any given friday night,
a young white suburbanite,
cruises in his beamer,
into the city, bose blastin’ fiddy.
he sports the latest, greatest, hippest, dopest, phattest rags
that his daddy’s silver spoon could buy,
but that silver spoon is the very reason why.
he protests the riches that they don’t deserve,
lashes out at his very own private federal reserve.
he’s looking for some black flava,
or some brown suga’,
or some white powder,
music getting louder.
young white suburbanite,
in the middle of the night,
loses himself in another man’s culture.
not understanding the subtleties of cp time,
he hits the club way too soon,
stands around with beer in hand,
realizes that the night was not so well-planned.
but he’s fly and hip and dope and –
and thinks he’s ahead of his time,
but the reality is that he simply
got there way ahead of time.
the music swirls within his head,
and the sistas think it’s so dred
that he’s holding his own,
while out of his element.
but to his detriment,
the beer pulls him to the dancefloor.
now, whitebread ain’t so fly no more.
and we think “ooh, that’s gotta hurt!”
beer has him moving to the beats,
the sight has us fallin’ out our seats.
“yo – young white suburbanite!
some fly sista would like ta get witcha”,
but homeboy’s homeboy has had
one too many rollin’ rocks.
young white suburbanite
struggles with all his might
to get his homeboy standing upright.
now, homeboy’s homeboy wants to fight.
young white suburbanite
came to the city,
blastin’ fiddy,
lookin’ for some black flava,
or some brown suga’,
or some white powder.
whitebread
got that gangsta beat going ‘round in his head.
cruisin’ in his jet-black beamer.
he’s just trying to understand
why we always catch it from the man.
tries to understand what that’s like,
he beats a path to every open mike,
struggles to get a feel for what it’s like.
a fruitless pursuit and he can’t see why
he can never feel the pain like you and i.
he innocently protests and lets out a sigh –
“it wasn’t me and i refuse to carry that lie”.
it’s neither out of compassion,
nor because it’s popular fashion,
but, instead, because the guilt of the fathers
prey upon the innocence of the sons.
**********
on any given friday night,
deep within the urban blight,
from dusk until daylight.
lookin’ for some
black flava,
brown suga’,
white powder.
out of the gloomy mist and into the light,
comes an urban legend . . . a young white suburbanite.
copyright 2008 blackstarr
freerealm@gmail.com
Lose Yourself by Eminem
Images: silver spoon (metalmuseum.org), Rolling Rock beer (hoppsy.com), Flava (myrunkspace.com), Bey caricature (pinoypix.com), Philadelphia skyline (wordfromtheweb.com)
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