Missed Connection - Thug Lyfe

[McClain]

Loc: Starbucks on W. 4th.
Me: Look like Bubba Sparxx with a smaller waist. I was drinking a decaf white mocha.
You: Look like Eva Mendez but with worser teeth. You looked at me and smiled. You were pretending to pull strings off the bottom of your shirt and you kept twirling your foot while your legs were crossed. I think you had a grande latte.

I don't usually do this but I'm going out on a limb. You don't look like the kind of girl who reads the Craigslist Missed Encounters forum, but I don't look like the kind of guy who graduated Summa Cum Laude from a leading local college.

Please don't let my education get to your head; I am indeed a thug. I've seen some crazy things in my life and I'm not afraid of that. They have affected me as a person but all I can do is live the way I know how to live. Bandannas. Hat on sideways. Saggy jeans. Timberlands. It's all a part of who I am. Ya' know? People ask me all kinds of questions:

Why are you wearing a skully?
What do your tattoos mean?
Are those glasses prescription?
Why is the sole of your left boot 4" thick?

I wear what I know. Things have happened in my life and they changed me. I'm not afraid of that and if you're gonna' roll with me you can't be afraid of that either, girl. Eminem used to be scrutinized and look at him now. He's on top of the world and all because he kept it real.

I've seen things. When I was 10 years old I saw some neighborhood teenagers spray a line of lighter fluid down the spine of a stray cat. One of the teenagers dropped a match on the cat's perched spine and with the quickness the cat was getting all jiggy and bananas and stuff. Evidently cats have the instinct to stop drop and roll, cause that's exactly what it did. It later limped off, back smoldering, all while the teenagers were laughing maniacally. I had defecated in my pants.

See now? That's real shit. That event molded me in to what I am today. I'm just keepin' it real.

But what I'd like to do is keep it realer with you. I've got an apartment on the South Side and I think that you would enjoy it there, provided you're not intimidated by the samurai swords and scarface posters decorating my studio. You like that Dallas Cowboys throw rug tacked to my wall? Yeah, that's my squad.

What you know 'bout that?

And yes, you'll see that I did indeed frame my first dollar. But this one bears significance. This was the first dollar I stole. I take money, I don't make it. Well, that statement isn't entirely factual at the moment as I'm currently employed with Mutual Insurance as a claims Adjuster, but I'm only doing this because my weed supplier has dried up and I promised my dad I'd buy him a one of those little portable vacuums for Christmas. It's crazy how the only part of his house with carpet is the stairs. Who the hell does that?

Where do you work? You could be a stripper with a body like that, but I'd wager you're probably a cashier at a fancy store in the mall. I showed you to my boy the other day and he said that he thought he saw you selling shirts at that Air Brush booth at Glenbrook Mall. But then I told him that he only said that because all the people that work the booths are Mexicans and he is racist.

I'm not racist, though. How could I be? How would it be possible for a white thug to not comprehend intrinsic social injustices? Red and yellow, black or white, we're all precious in my sight.

I have a tattoo on my bicep. It's says "LIFE" when you read it but if I flex my arm and move it up to the sky the upside down tattoo says "DEATH". It hurt, but life is pain.

One time I was walking through the back yard getting ready to go play basketball with my boys. My dad was raking the lawn and asked me where I was going. When I told him he said, "No, you're going to help me rake the lawn." But I just kept walking 'cause that's all I know how to do. I was just being honest with myself. My dad didn't like that so he walked around the garage to cut off my path and used the rake as some sort of makeshift barrier to prevent me from leaving.

I said, "Yo, get that shit out of my face son!" at which point his face contorted and he looked at me with fire in his eyes. I thought, "Oh #*#%! Dad is gonna' throw down!" and I stanced myself accordingly. But instead of throwing down he snapped the rake over his knee, handed me the rake portion with about 5" of shaft remaining, and told me that if I didn't finish raking the yard that the next thing he was going to break would be my ass.

I asked for the other half so I could tape them back together but he said no, and I learned to work with what I was given. "Make due."

My dad was a soldier. He kept it real in Vietnam. That rake event molded me and changed me, and ever since that day I've lived like a soldier -- like every day could be my last. I'm not a "real" soldier because 1) I didn't pass the ASVAB and 2) they said my left foot was too "unconventional" and that they don't make boots that would fit. But I'm a soldier at heart. I send troops letters and I even tied a yellow ribbon around the spruce outside of my apartment.

"I'm drinkin' Hennessey,
runnin' from my enemies.
Will I live to be 23?
There's so much pain."

That was Tupac. Sometimes I feel as though he's rapping about my life. But that song doesn't work out exactly as planned because I'm actually 25, so when I'm listening to the song and rapping in my car ('06 Chevy Cobalt on 18" Dubs) I rap, "Will I live to be Thirty-Three?" It makes more sense because statistically I have less of a chance of living until I'm 33. I know all about statistics because of the elective Statistician class I took last year. Did you know that average age of a white American male is 38 years, but a black man is 35? Actually that could be considered a demographic, but I think you get the point. The point is that I paid attention in class and even though I look like a thug I am smarter than the average kid creepin' on the come up. And the other point is that American Black males are younger on average.

But with you in my life I think I could live forever. We could make babies and you could hold it down at home while I'm out getting paper. Once we stack enough chips we can find a nice house outside of the hectic city life and we can grow old together. My Aunt Chloe is a Realtor in Worcester so I think we could get a discount or something. Our children will go to a fancy university and I'll tell our kids, "I lived a ghetto life so you wouldn't have to." It could be real.

If you see me holler at me.