Even though heart disease is the #1 killer of Black men in America, ask in any hood and the biggest fear of Black men is most likely “catching the monster”. But in 2006 AIDS has more serious competition than a ball player battling old age. A new epidemic has spread which has rendered American ghettos defenseless, modern medicine bullsh-t, and possesses a death-rate that has, please pardon the cliché, soared through the roof.

This new pandemic is known as success. Though contrary to popular belief, the achievement of success, with its ability to better one’s family and friends both immediate and extended, can cause a family more grief and despair than joy. But then again everything in the ghetto is contrary to popular belief. With the rising violence involving Hip-Hop and its artists, the message is clear—the only thing that a Black man hates more than his own failure is the success of another Black man. And as evident in recent events that have transpired, the barrier that once separated art and life has been bum-rushed—nonexistent. Think-the vapors.
 
In 2006 it seems as though bullets are like orphans—they have no names, and nobody claims them. With the consolidation and regionalization of Hip-Hop and commercial radio due to the lucrative grind of independent artists, especially below the Mason-Dixon, the ability to attain Hip-Hop success has become a reality for many young poor Blacks.

But with a more regionalized and attainable Hip-Hop comes an increased access never before seen. Anyone with the resources to invest in Hip-Hop can eat. And who needs MTV/BET rotation to eat, when you can devour meals as a local hood legend without ever seeing a major. Consequently the violence is concentrated to regions with a prosperous independent scene, drug trafficking, and/or extreme poverty. With the fierce competition of hungry emcees vying for success and notoriety, the jealousy of seeing other local stars blow, and the intertwining of local street politics and violence with Hip-Hop industry politics, due to the access which has allowed shady figures (with their availability of resources) involved in the streets to enter the Hip-Hop game as execs, managers, etc., the ensuing violence is abbreviating many up and coming emcees’ careers before they have a chance to start. The rap game really is the new crack game.

The regional success of Hip-Hop in local hoods serves as a stark contrast to the poverty which has plagued many of these cities since the drought of the crack game and the politics of the war on drugs. Detroit is one of these cities. In 1999 a boiling Detroit Hip-Hop subculture exploded onto the national Hip-Hop scene on the back of Eminem and D12, followed by standouts Obie Trice and Royce Da 5’9’’. In most cases, the hoods on wax and movies do not properly reflect the unsanitary gutters of the real city. Detroit is a city with 10,000 homeless people but only 2,000 shelter beds. “In Detroit, a worker earning the minimum wage of 5.15 per hour would have to work 112 hours per week in order to afford a two bedroom apartment at the area’s Fair Market rent of $751.” (National Low Income Housing Coalition). With others expecting to reach success and not, many became jealous and enraged at those who were successful (who were accused of closing the door to the industry). With beefs smoldering between artists such as Royce and D12, many crew members who are directly tied to the streets may catch real feelings. Many looked at Eminem’s collaboration with Trick-Trick as a mingling of these industry politics with those of Detroit’s streets. In December, Eminem protégé Obie Trice was shot in the head while driving on the highway. Though he lived, the outcome would be much more grave for Em’s longtime best friend, Proof.

Another local rivalry of street politics between promising independent artists which ended in bloodshed was that between Oakland, CA and Kansas City, MO. The top blew off the kettle of this beef on November 1st,   2005, when Bay rapper, Mac Dre, was gunned down on Highway 71 in KC. Details would later surface of disputes over payment for a concert, and of an alleged retaliation by KC rapper Fat Tone who believed Dre was involved in an altercation earlier that month. Police also uncovered a “non-Hip-Hop” altercation that took place between a San Diego drug dealer and KC locals. Fat Tone and an associate would then be gunned down six months later in Las Vegas. In March 2006, Bay area rapper Mac Minister was arrested by Feds as the suspect in the murder of Fat Tone in what was believed to be revenge for the death of Dre. Fast forward to March 2006: E-40 debuts at No. 3 serving as ambassador of Oakland’s “Hyphy” movement, a genre and lifestyle started by Mac Dre and his Thizz Entertainment Company.

These are just two of the more high-profile, isolated incidents in a long list of recent Hip-Hop violence: Boston’s rap war, Cam’s shooting in DC, the killing of H-Town vet Big Hawk, the death of Busta’s bodyguard, the fed’s takedown of the narcotic empire BMF, the endless events at Hot 97, and the shootout between T.I.’s entourage and Cincinnati locals that left T.I.’s assistant dead. These events, which have all occurred mostly within the last year, has forced many in the community to say enough is enough especially law enforcement. Many local officials are getting involved to curb the violence in Hip-Hop that plays out in real life. Whether this new interest in Hip-Hop by local officials is justified or not, any attempts made by officials have been met with Hip-Hop’s brick wall of silence, through its “STOP SNITCHING” mantra. Though not speaking to law enforcement may give rappers a few attribution points that may be used to boost their credibility, it is real families that suffer real losses.

And it is this real life connection to these real life people that many fans lose due to people we perceive as merely entertainers. The truth is a man named Dashaun Holton, who had just served as the best man at his friend’s wedding, was killed in his native Detroit, leaving behind a wife and four young children. And even more recently John Hawkins who had just married in March and had two children, was mowed down in his hometown of Houston. And though many are fans and many are not, in October a mother almost lost her son who she lovingly refers to simply as, Cameron. And imagine how dumb the streets would have gone if it was Mac Dre who had been introduced to national Hip-Hop fans on E-40’s “Tell Me When to Go”. See, mothers don’t care about credibility and record sales, but executives aren’t left with the burden of funeral arrangements and caring for young children.

Scene: Hip-Hop is an actor on a pulley in the closing scene that has become trademark in all of Spike Lee’s movies. With a look of bewilderment and daze the world seems to be flying by Hip-Hop, the actor, on the pulley. After many grueling hours of perfecting this scene the actors and crew involve have all grown tiresome waiting for the actor to arrive to yell-- “WAKE UP!” It’s as if we have seen this movie before. “CUT!”

--K.Cutta (a.k.a. Kris Payne) is a contributing writer as well as a noted comedian and radio personality.