What Is Up With That?

So I'm from the "hood" (Far Rockaway, Queens stand up), and being from the "hood" I'm constantly surrounded by ignorance or as we call them "niggas". Now don't get it twisted, I'm not calling African-Americans "niggas", we got Puerto Rican "niggas", Dominican "niggas", Caucasian "niggas", a virtual cornucopia of "niggas" (not many Asian "niggas" though, for some reason). Okay I think I used the word "nigga" enough! Now to the point I was trying to make. Everyday when I walk out of my front door its the same scene. Young men in white tee's long enough to be considered a dress, fifteen and sixteen year old mothers, young girls dressed like strippers (she's only five for God's sake, Latoya), welfare recipients with cars and clothes better than mine (alright the cars are better, but the God stays fly), and the top "hood" sighting, a fat broad wearing an outfit that her hot skinny friend shouldn't even wear (take that damn halter top off Lakeisha). I feel sorry for the kids in the suburbs that watch BET and emulate this sad existence we live in. I mean I owned a couple "d-boy uniform" shirts, I done gave a couple fifteen and sixteen year olds the "bidness" (when I was sixteen, my name isn't Uncle Vito[Viva La Bam]), and I believe fat girls need love too (not from the God though). But please can we all come to an understanding and tone down the "hood". When you drive your Lexus that you paid for with illegitimate funds, please turn the P. Diddy down (turn the Dip Set off). When you mothers take your kid out the house, put some clothes on her (no more kids outside with only diapers). Excuse me fat girl, yeah you, that outfit wasn't made for you, that's why they have Ashley Stewart and Lane Bryant for. And to the young mothers, close your legs you "slore" (that's slut / whore, for the Dee Dee Dee's). In closing, I hope that we can come together when we need to, not just when the "man" screws us over.

P.S.- Um, "niggas" bandanas are for cowboys, I don't see no horses in Brooklyn (except that girl in the club last night), so put the soldier rag on the floor and back away slowly (you "niggas" know the routine).

Peace, I mean WAR!