F is for February

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I get rather upset in February because of society’s expectations thrust upon me. 

I did lose two friends just two days ago so it kind of sucks right now. But I soldier on.  Don’t call me unless you’re in the #TribeofGuruve.  Otherwise – text only.

I’m a short, bold black man a.k.a “Prince of Zamunda” by my buddies particularly Bobby who’s a former Marine.  We always exchange political jabs, but at the core – despite our differences in race and political affiliation, we are good friends.  I was telling him the other day about why I’m not a fan of February.

I wonder why I’m limited to celebrating #BlackHistory during the shortest month of the calendar? Secondly, why is my checking account relegated to the ashes because of all the unnecessary content-consumption on telly, #Wallymart superstores and #radio?  Every girlfriend I’ve ever had, whether Zimbabwean, English, American, or Egyptian, exerted this pulsating pressure on me, and my little kindred spirit always caved in. Back then, I was a frail, little boy.

Alas!

But now, things have slightly changed.  I’m not as frail, but leader and #ChiefWarrior of a #ghostwriting collective of African Ghost Artists.  The modus operandi I set upon them is to politely be a #rebel with a cause, stay classy and challenge the #statusquo – respectfully, proportionally and delicately.  Part of why we don’t talk or reveal who we work for is because we are not worried about being famous.  The joy we get is purely from knowing our words are HELPING OTHERS one article, one song, one music compilation or one newspaper column at a time.

Do you know what it’s like to have some of the most influential people in various industries and disciplines across three continents in your WhatsApp group, and not be known? It’s pure gold.

That’s why we used to say we have death in our pouch in the tagline on our Homepage.  I charge all our African Artists to bring  that poison, but only to use it for good.  Part of the reason we politely ask for you to pay us for our silence is based on one simple quote shared with me countless times.  I never really understood or listened to it until I suffered the harsh, unimaginable and ineradicable consequences.  Trust me daddy, the consequences cost me quite a couple of grand, but it’s okay.  Money comes, and it goes.  I’m more worried about the purity of my soul nowadays.  I’ll let our Ancestral Spirits handle the rest.  All things come around full circle, so if you’re reading this and feel a certain way, oh well.  You know who you are.  The tribe is always watching and so is the Sun.

My grandfather Sekuru Sarikosi always said,

SonofGuruve, usaise zvinhu mumhepo.

That’s our native tongue in Guruve, Zimbawe, Africa. It’s called Shona. The English translation is:

SonofGuruve, don’t put things into the wind.

Simples mate.  Don’t use your tongue to rob yourself of what you ought to be or what you ought to achieve.  The tongue is intimately connected to your spirit and certainly leads to the physical and especially if you’re not careful. 6Lack said it best,

Be cautious where you play.

I’ll be cautious and adapt it to, “Be careful what you say, and who you say it to”.

Do you think we just started writing these raps, blogs and songs for my mandem overnight? Absolutely not.

I‘ve been writing my whole life, so I started this little hustle with an iPad and an iPhone, told some people, but had to do it alone when they wouldn’t frolick with me.

 Look man, you can either speak life or death to whatever you are intending to accomplish in this short-lived journey we collectively call life.  Ironically, it’s Valentines Day today and I’m sad.  I couldn’t be there for my dear friend Mike who passed away just the other day.  He spoke so much light into me when I was in my own darkness.  I just wish I could have returned the favor. Man, damn!

If I ever hear any of my tribesmen or tribesladies speaking evil or uncouth things, they are temporarily suspended so we can unravel what spirit or fountain they are drinking from.  Just be careful with what you put out there man.  An old friend once said,

#SonofGuruve, always muddy the waters!

But whoa, as our Board member, Fables agreeD that I should be glad and not drink from that fountain.  It’s still under consideration though, because I haven’t unraveled exactly what it meant.

So the #TribeofGuruve exists to put that juice, sauce and empowerment out there for the voiceless.  When I started writing this blog post at 5am this morning, I didn’t quite realize we would arrive at this juncture, but I’m cool with that.  I hope you are too.  It’s from the heart and it’s organic like fresh Italian sauce oozing from the frying pan.  I’m also hopeful that you are not too offended by the image appended.  It’s artistic and I thought through it for a while.  I guess it grasps our funky audience’s conscience before we try to write and hopefully reach them.  I knew this post would do well when the same picture was on my Instagram @SonofGuruve and received likes I’d hope are of appreciation and anticipation.  I’m sure there will be a 50/50 split and likely my African Mandem parents, aunts and uncles will be blowing up my WhatsApp inbox.  But that’s ok because they come from a good place.  I just ask for the bigger picture of this body of work to be reflected upon.  Not everyone understands or appreciates the art produced at #TribeofGuruve. You can’t always cave to everyone’s demands in the face of what I’d like to call artistic adversity.  Art is individualistic. You create, the audience reacts. Simples.

I was listening to the mandem Burna Boy and it pretty much inspired this post in twenty minutes and a couple of edits of course.  I’ve been reminded by my Baba to check my posts more frequently before I post them – so hopefully this one is perfect.  Burna Boy is definitely my favorite Naijah mandem out there right now.  As you may know he is a an artist like us at #TribeofGuruve.  I’ve followed him for a couple of years, and one day I’m going to ghostwrite for him.  Only thing, is he’s so good, he probably won’t need me.

Did you see what I did there? I know I put it in the wind, but yo, sometimes you have to speak special tingz into existence – as long as they have good intent.  Perhaps it’s a positive affirmation Sekuru would provide an exception for. I still think if he was still alive and preaching today he’d say,

“Nah, YoungKilla, keep that info low-key!”.

 I guess it’s about that balance – that Natwest Balance, Cyaga! Oh, so before you read on, special shout out to the funniest mandem inna London right now. Man like, #MCQuakes! Google him for plenty funnies. Below is an audio for Burna Boy’s “Wickedest Love”.

So today is Valentines Day. Okay.  So what?

F your February

Man come on man,

Man come on man,

Man gimme time, gimme once second,

AND,

Why the f am I in debt man?

Man, so much ps, So much man,

Why Mandem? In debt fam?

My  white gal left me AND,

But I’ve healed and,

Recovered from all of that pain and,

Man, come on man!

Been there n done that man,

Why the f man?

Man,

Man, Mandem!

Losing so much money?!

Just for Feb-ru-ary?

Not coming to that party,

Man come on darling?

Pardon me!

But adverting?

 Got you spending on all that jewelry?

Man, come on man!

Come one Man.

Damn Fam!

F is for, F your February!

F your February,

Yes, yes I fn  said it!

Only get to celebrate it?

Being black and loving you,

Only inna Feb-ru-ary?

Well come on, man!

Gerrahere mayne! Knnaaa wha I’m sayin?

Man, Come on baby,

Come put it- put it on me.

Shoutout BBC1XTRA, Shoutout Charlie too!

For giving mandem Faya in the fn Booth!

Sloth Imma hold you down,

when I’m in London town,

In tha summa now, Man two twos now!

Man got my visa! Give Charlie Sloth a

Mega pizza!

All right now,

All right darling Imma hold you down,

With this golden crown.

Can I see your gown?

Geeez. Baby please!

Now please don’t frown.

I’m an African n I’m out of town.

I’m the Burna Boy of this writing sound,

Death in our pouch!

AND,

Imma give you the? the wiki-leaky sound,

From March all the way to January baby,

Imma love you.

So Come on man!

One month man?

28 days for all that Black History?

Only inna inna Feb-ru-ary?

F what you heard man,

It’s black love man,

The wickedest love man,

Bumper to bumper man,

My peng ting’z name is Niniola.

Man, My baby so gorgeous, Man she so focused,

Flawless! Oh, I love you baby! She’s my black princess!

Man I’m writin scribin  jam – Like!

Haha-haha-haha Get it?

Yes it’s Heinz sauce and,

Yes! Yes it’s Red!

YNWA,  yes I’m a freak n I’m fn Red!

An African warrior man!

Anfield to be exact,

So can you feel me?

Call me John Bread, Butter or Buns-ey,

Get it? John Barnes, Yeah he ate with me!

That JamaiCAN,

 That Black mandem,

Delicious Chicken, Yeah chicken Jerky!

Man he coming, Man, Man Get Ready!

Four- four-two- Mandem,

It‘s for the weekend!

Shoutout to Muhammad from SevenEleven!

Playin for Pool?

Yeah in the Eighties man.

I’ll take you back to school,

Way Back when,  man way back then?

Number 7 maybe,

But the bredda was so peng  at scoring pens,

Man ask a friend!

Scoring peng goals, had peng tingz,

So much Black Bling! Imma Black king,

Oh yes AND we rising!

Brov you think you winning?

1-0 right now, but imma ghost B!

I got all the zeros, many many plenty,

That’s why you can’t see me,

I’m out here,  Ghost-wriding a bad lady!

Paying my tithes n’!

Always in my kitchen, man I’m always cookin!

So Solid,

Now they all wanna do, is f with my food.

But Yes I said it! Rude boi Don’t you ever test it!

Not no contesting, F is not for Forgetting,

It’s actually F squared for F your February,

This one’s for the Black mandem and galdem, that are black lovin!

You are all so lovely!

Hahahahahahaha

Because I love my black love daily.

Still.

Yes, still.

-drops mic.

——-

I’m only hopeful a rudeboi doesn’t try to bite these lyrics. We will write to you my G. We use plagiarism and image checkers which as a matter fact are tools for finding misappropriated content.  One of the items we use is called Copyscape. You simply provide the URL of your written material, and Copyscape searches for any other web pages where the same content appears.  Our hope is simply to request credit whatever that means to you.  When we find someone using our original text or photos without giving credit, we beat some drums, meet as a Tribe and decide how to respond.  Here’s another thing I’m going to put in the wind:

The only person who has the sole right to pull up and sing a bad boy remix to Wickedest Love or whateva using SonofGuruve’s lyrics to “F your February” is Burna Boy.  Did you see what I done? Maybe, but special shout out to man like J Hus!  He has permission too.  As you read this, you might be able to mash it up in the booth too.  But for now, hit the Contact Us page for the mandem. Our attorney who’s a bad gal ting from Barking will be as helpful as she can.

-SonofGuruve

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rk6_Ax0mQo

Peace, Love, Positivity and Good Food.

**PS Man might just go to the studio to spit these bars himself you know, but I forgot that studios don’t rent their spaces to ghosts. Damn.

#ValentinesDay #Africa #Guruve #Love #Wind #Red #Liverpool #Debt #Money #BurnaBoy #Sekuru #Zimbabwe #Bloggers #Content #Creators #Copywright #263 #Twimbos #BBC1XTRA #BurnaBoy #JHUS #Rudeboi #CharlieSloth

© SonofGuruve 2018

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