The PrimeTime Effect (Coaching)

You belong to the city. You belong to the night. In spite of my mom trying to move to the suburbs to protect me from subversive characters with their subjects and words, I was like a moth to a flame with an expanded vocabulary of subjects and verbs. I’m so hood in a middle-class hood that wasn’t that hood or that hard, where you had nice houses with tenants that acted hard and kept their yards pristine. But don’t act, because they still had AKs and pistols and beams in their back yard. I guess “Don’t Mess with Texas” was a street code, because the middle class started having little class and white flight gave us the real ni@@a Fight Club code. I got patnas that are resting in peace or doing an ungodly amount of years wasting their life, even though we came from the same life. Thank God that somebody prayed for me, and He had a plan for my life. I remember being 17 choosing between weed and a scholarship, still thinking street scholars are hip, and I can do both because weed is cheaper in Texas and I make frequent trips. But I was met with frequent trips and mishaps because my missteps weren’t walking the straight and narrow. And even though my life still isn’t straight like an arrow, I have pretty good aim with my bow game, and my target is young men who want to do the same. They see the glasses and blazer thinking this dude is lame, having no idea how much I used to blaze, stay in the streets and graze, and how you can’t read a book at first gaze. Now I’m looking for men with a similar set of plays to coach some teams because I had strong mentors of men that tore you a new a$$hole if you were caught being an a$$hole. But you got to teach a tadpole to look before you leap, because it’s easy to feel froggy and jump, and that’s how you end up with lumps. And even though it seems like when I’m talking to them, I’m talking to stumps, I know through the hard posterior, that this isn’t ultimately what the young man wants. But he fronts, and I laugh right in front of him because I was of the same attitude. So I tell him, dude, you have latitude and you can move out of this path. The game is the same, just different names, whether our hoods are concrete or grass. Whether we bumped Scarface or Outkast our mission is to outlast negative stereotypes and social class. We need to recognize our light and walk in it when our shadows are cast. It’s not easy to change our path. But more men taking control of our men would keep them from the prison system's wrath. You do the math. You’re looking at a prism that started as a lump of coal with misguided goals. But I had someone to help guide my goals while others were content with riding with loads carrying the burdens of others. Instead, whatever happened to the words, “He ain’t heavy, He’s my brother.”…This is Chris Cornell coming from my home cubicle of distress beacons. Deion Sanders rekindled that flame. What would you give your life for?

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YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOJqDEVfpRc