I grew up in Astoria Queens. Which was pretty segregated back in the ’70s and ’80s. But I was a kid who was into graffiti, rap and metal, so I was able to be social with folks in ways that most black kids weren’t back then. James Malta used to write graffiti, and he came up under the legendary KB TSS (a/k/a Savage). I put James down with my little graffiti crew back in the 5th grade. We were the United Subways Artists, and we wore red, white n’ blue beads… Kinda suspect but hey, I guess I knew a bit about branding at a young age. Continue Reading »
Listen, if you’re really down with hip-hop you’re down with all musics because hip-hop can take the wackest songs and make ‘em better. Me? I was always that black dude who was down with rock, even when it wasn’t popular to be a black dude who was into rock. I remember dudes in my ‘hood used to throw 40s of OE at me when I rolled down the hill past 8th street, the open air crack market adjacent to the Astoria Projects. Back then, I had Jimi Hendrix to rep. My sister had a copy of his Smash Hits record and I used to sneak into her room and play it while she washed the dishes. (She also had Foreigner records, and I recall the tune “Dirty White Boy” being in heavy rotation. But I digress.) Years later, circa 1986, I became friends with a brother Named Chaka Malik Harris, a fellow graffiti writer (EXPO) and black dude who was into rock – only he was deep into rock on some other levels.
Graffiti has schooled me on many things. Taught me about branding and marketing and self esteem – all of this shining through the rough edges of a rather anti-social practice.
Hip-hop loves karate flicks. Word to the Wu-Tang Clan. Martial arts can save your life and get you in great shape. There’s nothing wrong with pumping up that heart rate and getting your handskills together. You just never know when some hip-hop weirdo might put you in a place where you’ve gotta defend yourself – open up a can of whupass and WHUP ASS!
Growing up in New York City back in the days before the Flatscreens came, I watched the same karate flicks that the RZA would watch. Back then, he was just Bobby. Today, he is so much more! Above is a karate flick I would like you to peep for several reasons, and I would like for you to share your thoughts on this here website. I think the time has come for you to defend yourself. It also might be the time for you to wear makeup and defend a woman from being raped by a gang of deadly black assassins.
Are you ready to FIGHT for honor, lust, and blood? Are you a real man, or a pretend man? Are you Popeye the Straight Sailor Man or Olive Oyl?
I’ve spent some time with Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson over the years. As a journalist, I penned a story on his emergence early on for Spin magazine, then a cover story or two for Vibe magazine. I also had the pleasure of producing a competition-based reality series starring Mr. Jackson for MTV (won’t even go into the name of said show, since it tanked big time. I thought it had some interesting moments, but it debuted the week that Obama became our president, and America was fixated on the new HNIC). Anyway, just did this doc with Mr. Jackson, and it explores one of ego trip’s favorite subjects: RACE! Peep the video above.
Rapper Lady’s “Yankin’” is a provocative song, but more than that the tune’s video has something to offer your entire grown-ass family (I’d like to stress the “ass” part). The heart and soul of the song seems to be centered around the fact that her vagina has the ability to grab a penis like a strong hand grabs a hammer. Which, one might argue, is a pretty impressive skill to possess.
Graffiti is very important to me. ego trip wouldn’t exist if i hadn’t published my little graffiti ‘zine back in 1988. It was called Graphic Scenes & X-Plicit Language, and it featured photographs of graf and interviews – I had stuff from as far away as Germany. Sounds corny now, but it meant something back in the days before the Internet. Anyway, the pioneers of the modern graffiti culture don’t call it graffiti, they call it “writing” because writing is what they initially did; those initial stylized signatures morphed into this technicolor, fire-breathing dragon. Philadelphia, New York – the kids there were into this stuff back in the late 1960s, and needless to say the movement has come a long way, Gravy.
PREFACE:
Wow, egotripland.com people. This story was a real trip.
I remember rolling with Juvy in a huge-ass Hummer – and this is back when a Hummer meant you were a billionaire and a $100 a day gas bill wasn’t nothin’ but a hairy-ass chicken wing. Our first stop was a soul food buffet. The mother of his child was there with the baby. He told me to go help myself and I did – the fried chicken and buttermilk biscuits made my spine tingle.
The amazing thing is, Juvy had a huge wad of cash. Imagine the Sunday edition of the New York Times, rolled the hell up. Dude could demo you with his cheddar if you took it to the head. That wad was like a head of iceberg lettuce, and he kept peeling and peeling and peeling away. In-between bites of mac ‘n cheese, he handed the mother of his child a crazy stack.
From there, we hopped in the Hummer and drove to the ‘hood. Kids came up to the car and Juvy would roll his window down and hand them grisp hunnits. He wasn’t giving out turkeys, he was throwing MONEY at the situation!
So we pull up across the street from the projects and roll into the corner store. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Juvy was just lacing everybody with fresh bills; a bill from the emcee was like his version of “hello” – word to Lionel Richie. Juvy then proceeded to buy a fresh pack of white tees.
I remember thinking that the projects of New Orleans made the projects of New York City look like Trump Towers. They also loved Reebok “tennis” shoes. While I was there I got put up on the late great Soulja Slim – a/k/a Magnolia (Projects) Slim. Yo, I love his music. He left this world too soon, but that is the way love and life goes down there. Cops were making like $16K a year, so overtime often came in the form of slangin’ that white paowwww-duh – cooked or raw.
Juvy went home to freshen up after. He wanted me to see New Orleans at night. Later in the PM, we walked into the club like 40 deep and I’m not sayin’ who, but people had heaters on them. Eventually, a gaggle of white broads aggressively made it known that they wanted to roll and hang tuff with Juvy. No problem – the rich rapper copped a few hotel rooms up the block. Read the story to find out what happens next…
Crack is one hell of a drug. And as a shorty coming up in 1980s New York, crack was a part of life. Especially when you lived across the street from the Astoria Projects. In all fairness, nobody wakes up and says, “Hey, I really wanna get addicted to crack!” Truth is, when crack first hit nobody really understood what it was and what it can do. On one hand, it made people feel good for like a minute a pop. On the other hand, young black men who weren’t employable were making more loot than crackers in skyscrapers. Crack was both euphoric and tragic, powerful and pitiful (please excuse my simple words for a very complicated time in black n’ brown history).
Hi. My name is Sacha Jenkins. Hip-hop has been a part of my life since I was a shorty. I used to hear the park jams outside of my window in Astoria, Queens. We’d moved there from Silver Spring, Maryland; we moved across the street from the Astoria Projects. Silver Spring was mad quiet. Yo, these AQ jams were loud, and my mother was the Haitian lady who used to call the cops on a Thursday at 10:30 PM (right in the middle of Hill Street Blues!) because these cats would go LATE. The Disco Twins were legendary, and they go waaaaay back like Bam and Flash and them (you better ask somebody). The Tri-boro Bridge is blocks away from the Astoria Projects. On the other side of that Bridge? The South Bronx. And much respect to the Uptown region. Just don’t sleep on Queens. Give us our due, dude. Were were there. We were making noise early. More on that in future posts.
Sacha Jenkins SHR moved to Astoria, Queens from Silver Spring, Maryland in 1977, where he was immediately introduced to blackouts and graffiti culture. An obsession with home made magic markers and spray paint would inspire Jenkins SHR to publish his own 'zine at age 17. In 1994 Jenkins SHR would co-found something called ego trip - which would change the course of (his)story. Today Jenkins SHR is a family man who writes books, produces television, makes music, and occasionally pens so-called blog posts.
He believes that the people who built those Pyramids way down south where they currently speak Spanish were really advanced. Like, on a level we don't understand yet.
