Wudder-Logged Mixtape Memories, Volume I-III
Volume I:
Yung Bomb-Atomic Blonde
This was me.
Sometime after turning 2, approximately halfway towards Age 3.
About 3-3 1/2 , around the time baby sis arrived, is when my memory becomes clear.
It’s been on like Donkey Kong from there.
But when the ride started, your boy had blonde, borderline white-light hair.
Things grew progressively darker, both atop and inside that head, ever since.
This was before 3-year-old Bambino read the Berenstain Bears Picnic aloud to Mrs Dyer’s nursery-school/day-care class.
Several in that rapt audience were likely sitting in their own shit, diapers taped around their ass.
This mighta helped generate what can accurately be described as “unearned arrogance” begins for me.
But I still think, scratch that, I still KNOW…that I actually am Thee Sheeeeeiiit, even when at my totally loneliest, most stressed, or dead brokest.
Self-awareness is one of the most vital assets a human being can possess.
Conversely, the power of unwavering confidence also ain’t no minor thing.
The latter can’t be swayed by dissenting opinions, especially now ‘grown’-but-didn’t-then-grasp-how-to-wipe-their-ass-while-I-held-court-in-class folk.
If life is a mixtape, then this heatrock, “Young Bomb: Atomic Blonde”, represents my first wave.
I might now remember how some of these early songs go, but guarantee they still sound dope.
Volume II:
Lil Bam & Tha Fam-Bird’s Eye View
As fortified live as I just got telling you I am, no woman, or man, can truly rise without a crew.
And family, for the best blessed among us, are the first to put that battery in the back for you.
Shout-out to Yung Jess, pictured here backing up her seven-months-younger cuz, one of the first on earth to be down with the program.
She’s busy raising a squad of her own these days, so we don’t hang tough like we used to do, but both of always know when some shit goes down, I got you.
And back then, if you wanted to move around our playground, this was a tag-team that you needed to pay respects to, before letting you pass thru.
Salute to my partner in crime for phase two, Lil Bam & Tha Fam, bringing the heat like an 90’s kelly green Philadelphia team, from a Bird’s Eye View.
Volume III:
Yung Boss-Songs From The Big Chair
We all gotta eat, so most times that means we gotta work.
There’s a reasonable chance I’m at work as you read this, because believe it or not, I haven’t found an avenue to fully monetize all this brilliance.
But long before work was expected let alone required, during my fourth year on Earth, I was on some fake-it-till-you-make-it form of hustle-bustle.
This picture was taken inside the old RCA offices known as the “Nipper Building” in Camden, New Jersey.
Age 4, at an “Open House”, which allowed RCA’s employees to bring their kids into the office for a full tour.
My old man worked in finance, but this chair, as well as this office, belonged to his manager.
For much of the previous year, I’d been waking up when my father did, pretending I had a job to go to like him.
I'd walk into my parents’ bedroom as my father was getting dressed for work, pantomiming his movements in the mirror.
Usually carrying stacks of papers, or a makeshift briefcase to lug around the house, pretending to be in a rush, all in efforts to maintain the illusion.
So imagine my delight a year later, getting the chance to sit in the old man’s boss’ seat, inside the building with Nipper the doggy at the top of it.
As you can see, it felt quite comfortable and natural to me.
To this day, I have trouble sitting too long in an office without occupying the big seat.
Because long before I paid the cost, in my mind, I was already a Boss.
Right or wrong, the signs were all there, on Yung Boss-Songs From The Big Chair.
