Effed in the a
I notice many of the young people who frequent the comments sections both here and at my own site are considering some sort of career in hip-hop. Not to fuck with anyone’s plans, but this doesn’t strike me as a very good idea at all.
Say what you will about Damon Dash, but at least he used to know Jay-Z. As such, he was able to sell his share in Roc-A-Fella Records for $30 million (or was it $3 million), and that makes him talented, god damnit.
Or more talented than I am, anyway.
But what about the legions of d-bags that don’t know Jay-Z? If you notice, there hardly exists these days a black man under the age of 30 who doesn’t claim to be either a) a rapper, or b) the CEO of some sort of entertainment company. This is a problem.
For every one of these no-talents who somehow lucks out and becomes the next Yung Joc (don’t play dumb), there must be some insane number that only end up in prison somewhere dreading the next visit from the infamous tossed salad man. Nullus.
I don’t have the numbers to back this up, but I’d be willing to bet that the number of jigs who get raped in prison each year compares favorably to the number of jigs who actually make a decent living off of hip-hop. Unless you’re some kind of closet-case, why take that kind of risk?
And yet the statistics show that year in and year out, more than half of all jigs in the inner city are opting to stand on the corner somewhere dressed like a prison bitch rather than graduate from high school – basically guaranteeing themselves a trip to jail at some point or another.
You’d have to think that hip-hop plays a part in this.
 Of course, even some of the ones who do make it as rappers end up in jail eating another man’s ass for five years at a time, but that’s a topic for another discussion.