by Mack Mama
That experience taught me to copyright any and all of my music, slogans, and lyrics. In business, you can’t be emotional and want to fight when someone does grimey shit to you. It’s a matter of making the perpetrator pay. Although I am over it, I couldn’t resist one last dig on my song, “Mack Mama” where I say: “Lil’ Mama, fix your makeup…” I was talking about Lil’ Kim when she does the crazy thick, drawn-on eyebrows. The Lil’ Mama is in reference to her being a little, miniature, wannabe me. I had to clarify that because people think I am talking about the young rapper, Lil’ Mama, who I happen to like and respect. I watched her grind and come up on the underground scene; not to mention, her mentor, Paula Perry, did a song with me on my O.B.G.’s The Movement Cd.
I am not a hater. I love female emcees. I am one of the only female emcee-that I know about-who put out a collaboration with over twenty female emcees that spit acid. I wasn’t scared to share the limelight. When you know who you are, and you’re confident in your ability to be the best, you are not intimidated by others’ greatness. I am Mack Mama!
Chapter Seven
OHIO
I lived in Columbus Ohio for a few years. I had a beautiful home in Westerville. I wanted to raise my daughter away from the urban jungle I grew up in. I wanted her to go to school with Caucasians, and speak proper English, take ballet, piano and karate lessons. Everything, little girls should have the opportunity to do. So I packed up and moved to Ohio. Queenie lived there and encouraged me to make the move. She had retired from the streets and was heavy into real estate and commercial property. She helped me purchase a beautiful four bedroom, two-and- a- half bathroom, full basement spread. That was my biggest accomplishment and I was ecstatic. The only problem was, I never got a chance to fully enjoy my home because I stayed on the road hustling hard to pay my hefty bills. I had put so much money into decorating my new home that it was ridiculous. I had professionals come in and wall paper each room with a different theme. I picked out beautiful pieces of furniture for each room. I have a knack for interior decorating, so I had a ball. My house was my sanctuary and I loved my neighborhood. It was so far removed from the concrete jungle of the projects. I jogged around my neighborhood, inhaling freedom, and it smelled great. Imagine how I felt living in the Midwest. It was a far cry from Brooklyn. My neighbors were so prejudice that in the five years I lived in my home, no one ever spoke to me. I didn’t mind one bit. I wanted to be left alone; therefore, I didn’t mind the antisocial neighbors. I respected the fact that they weren’t smiling in my face, knowing they didn’t like me because of the color of my skin.
I made my home very comfortable and had everything I needed to entertain my family. I wish I had the resources back then to simply give up my criminal lifestyle and live normal. I had lost my home and my vehicles when I went to prison on my final bid. I have nothing to show for all the years I’ve dedicated to the hustle. I regret all I have done in my life except for having my child, but I realize I can’t erase my past. I can only move on and change my “stinking thinking”- that is a recovery term that I learned from attending Narcotics Anonymous groups in prison. As I write this memoir, I am in shock, because my mentality was seriously warped. I didn’t realize that it was so crazy. It is unrealistic to think that you can live lawlessly and get away with it. After a while, you will get nabbed. I know because It happened to me.
On New Year’s Eve, 2003, the worst thing that could have happened to me occurred on that day. I was arrested for robbery and kidnapping in the second degree. Now, those charges may sound like I am a lunatic, but I assure you that I am not. I warn anybody who even considers doing a crime in Ohio to rethink it. The Judicial System there is no joke, and they will retire you. I stepped out of my house on the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, 2003.
I had to make a quick stop at the supermarket to pick up something that I needed for my dinner. I detoured and ran into a clothing store. My friend, Jason, was with me on that day. He used to walk out of stores with bags of stolen clothes for me. I had promised Goldie, who was incarcerated, that I would send her some solid color shirts, so I figured I would grab a few to go. The undercover store detective, who watched us from a distance, thought otherwise. As we approached the exit, the security advanced on us. After that, everything else went into slow motion. Jason body slammed the security guard and we ran to my truck. As we rushed out of the parking lot, several witnesses got the description of my vehicle. I was so mad at Jason! All he had to do was give the bullshit shirts back and cooperate. All that drama could have been avoided. We were fugitives on the run. I knew the police would be arriving shortly. The type of neighborhood that I lived in didn’t have any crime, so anything involving two blacks on the loose was going to be a major APB (All point bulletin). I wanted to get off the main road, so I swerved into an apartment complex and pulled into a parking slot. As I sat in the car, cursing him out for the dumb move he made, I heard the helicopters searching above. I knew that it was all over. Two seconds later, there were police surrounding us with their guns drawn. We were trapped! There were camera crews on the scene, and we made the news. I couldn’t believe it! When we made it to court, it got worse. They charged us with robbery and kidnapping. The boosting turned into a robbery because he assaulted the security guard. When you touch a person and restrict their movement you can be charged you with kidnapping in the state of Ohio. It was a chumped up charge but they made it stick. I was devastated! Both of our bonds were one-hundred-thousand dollars. That was how I spent my 2003 New Year’s Eve.
Queenie put up her house for my bond. She was always there to rescue me. I had made a promise to God that if he got me out of that jam that I was going to concentrate on my career, and get focused with my music. I kept that promise. I went in the studio and produced three mixtapes back. It was a way for me to vent about my life and I loved making songs.
I would go to the studio and record three songs a day. I created a crazy song catalog. My work ethics were just like my hustle ethics- nonstop delivery. I was obsessed with music and determined to get in the game. I didn’t want to do another day in jail. Enough was enough! I hired the best attorney in the town. He was an old-timer who went golfing with the judge and the district attorney. After eight months of going back and forth to court, I got off with three years of probation, along with a three-thousand dollar fine. While I was out on bond, I caught another case in Nassau County, Long Island and did forty five days while I waited for Ohio to extradite me. At that point, I realized that I had a severe money addiction akin to a drug addict. I needed help. I couldn’t stop going in the stores and stealing. It was definitely starting to get to me. As you mature and see things differently, your priorities begin to change. I didn’t care about being a fly girl.I wanted stability in my life. I didn’t want to leave my daughter. My biggest fear was going to prison and leaving my baby girl. Eventually, my nightmare caught up with me.
Chapter Eight
Fee Fi Fo Fum
I went back to New York and focused on my music, Ohio had me shook and I wanted to be closer to the music industry. At that time New York was still running the rap game. I had to be close to the happenings. I needed a manager and my homie, Tut, hooked me up with his man, Rich, who had a few contacts in the business. I hollered at him and he started managing me. The biggest thing he did for me was getting Styles P to do a song with me. I’ve always admired the Lox. I followed their music and their D-Block movement. So, I was so excited when he made a phone call and the next thing I knew, we were at the infamous D-Block studio in Yonkers, New York. I met with Styles P and we vibed for a few. After that, I left him the track. I had already laid my verses and the hook. I am a wizard at coming up with hooks, and I had the perfect one for our song. I heard the hook in the melody of the music. Part of the hook goes like this ‘Fee Fi Fo Fum, we’re knocking down the doors here we come….’ It’s all about two giants, Styles P and Mack Mama, coming to do what we do slay the track. That is one of my favorite songs. Although it took him a
while to get his verse back to us, it was nothing but fire and well worth the wait. His entire sixteen bars was about me, and that was his way of giving me his stamp of approval. It was a general saluting another general, and letting the streets know that I was certified. He is one of the hardest rappers in the game to me. His underground street credibility is unmatched, so that was big for me. I will always respect Styles P. for being a real dude. He didn’t even charge me for the verse. Real stand up brother. I love the grittiness of this song. It always reminds me of back in the days when I was a gangstress.
I remember when Queenie and I used to hang out in the Nineties (that’s an area in East Flatbush, Brooklyn). This is where some of the wildest Jamaicans and rude boys hung out. There would be shoot-outs almost every night. We loved the action and the excitement of it all. There were two brothers named Prince and Righteous, who were originally from Queens, but they owned a popular barber shop on 96 Street and Clarkson Ave in the Nineties. They were hood rich, and we loved them. They used to buy garbage bags full of stolen goods from us. It made boosting a lot more worthwhile when we had customers waiting with cash on the ready to buy everything. So, when Righteous, promised to pay us later for two minks, we let him owe us, figuring that he was good for the three grand. Besides, why would a brother named Righteous cheat us out of our money? He kept bullshitting around and didn’t pay us our money. That was his first mistake. His second mistake was underestimating us. I was losing patience and wanted my money. That’s when I put pressure on Queenie to step to him in the park, where he was playing basketball “Yo, there goes that bastard. Go ask him for our bread” I egged her on.
“Gurl, I hope this nicca’ has this money” She said exasperated
“You? I’m not waiting anymore. We gon’ have to do something to get our point across, cuz’ homeboy trying to play us” I sulked, fed up. She walked over and asked him for our bread and I think he said something along the lines of the following: “Not now. When I get it, you’ll get it. Beat it!” That was enough! When she came back to the car, I saw by the look on her face that it was ON! We went to see her man Sham God (R.I.P.) he was a hood “Arms Specialist”, which meant he possessed all types of high-caliber weapons. He had no problem giving us an Uzi to take care of our problem. That’s one thing I loved about Sham God; he was always there if we needed arsenals.
We waited to the wee hours of the morning and I drove to the barber shop. I was always the getaway driver on occasions like that. When we got in front of the barbershop, my partner, Queenie, let off a steady barrage of shots until the entire front window and inside mirrors were shattered, along with all the barber chairs being damaged in the process. Then I sped off as we heard the sirens approaching in the distance. We made a hell of a point. He would think twice before he beat another booster for their money. The damages to his shop had to total at least twenty grand, which is far more than he would have spent if he would have simply coughed up the three grand he owed us. Needless to say, we didn’t have to worry about retaliation because Sham God had our backs. It always amazes me how much we managed to get away with, but sometimes things would catch up to us in the most unexpected ways. We had got caught boosting in the city a couple of weeks after the drive-by, and the cops found the spent shell castings from the Uzi in our vehicle. Back then we were so stupid. We had no idea that we had to clean up the shells after the shooting. We were just riding around with all that evidence. I had a small two-shooter .22 in my bra and, when the police found it, they branded us armed and dangerous. They couldn’t believe that we’d been in a drive-by and I had the nerve to have a fire arm on my person. Like I’ve said, we were Original Bad Girls.
I know my mother is my angel because we were beefing with major drug dealers, and by all logic, we should be dead for the stunts we pulled. I am so blessed to be able to tell my story in a healthy state, free and unharmed. I’m not sitting in a wheel chair or a cell, and that is amazing. So, I figure that I am truly here for a reason. I have to touch all of the lost souls who are still in the streets (like I was), and let them know my story and see my change. If I can overcome all that I have been through and able to turn my life around, then any one can. I followed my dream for years and I am still a work in progress. However, if you’re reading my autobiography, this is an accomplishment in itself.
Chapter Nine
EAST CRUNK
This song is the epitome of what every gangstress feels. It gets me hyped up every time I hear it. It is definitely the sound track of my adolescent years. I could have had it playing on repeat the night I finally got revenge on yet another girl that betrayed me. One thing about me that I have finally overcome is my bad temper. However, it was a point in my life when someone crossed me I went to any length to get them back. I was never a troublemaker nor a bully, but if you violated me, I had to get you back; especially when I was good to you. I was born on Valentine’s day, so it’s in my nature to love and not judge, but for some reason, people always mistook my kindness for weakness. That’s when they would meet my other personality Mack Murder. There was no stopping me when she came out.
I am notorious for taking people in and trying to help them. This time it was another runaway who went to school with my sister. She was a pretty little girl named Iasia. One day, my sister brought her to meet me after some boys ran a train on her in the basement of one of their houses. She thought that she was pregnant and had a sexually transmitted disease. She was scared to tell her grandmother. She lived with her and would have gotten in trouble for cutting school. So, my sister asked me to let her stay with me for a while and, being the bleeding heart that I was, I invited her in with open arms. I took her to the clinic, got her checked out, and basically, put her under my wing. She became like my little sister. We did everything together. I taught her how to get money and be fly. She never went back to her grandmother’s place.
After about a year, we became so close that I thought she could be trusted. You can’t trust anybody from the streets. You’re never supposed to bite the hand that feeds you, and when I got bit, I bit back. I had to go do thirty days on Rikers Island, so I let her stay in my apartment with her boyfriend, whom I called my brother. I even hooked her up with another hustler from called Greedy from Gates Ave. I wanted her to take Iasia out and make money; that way, she’ll be able to look out for me while I was gone. Well, they decided that she shouldn’t have to send me a third of what she was making (like we agreed on). I noticed that she wasn’t sending me any money, so I started cursing her out on the phone. Things got bad and, when I came home, I was planning on knocking some sense into her head. I couldn’t believe that she was dissing me for my associate; especially after I took her in and looked out for her like she was family. I had genuine love for that girl and she crossed me for another chick. Typical! It didn’t stop there. She thought that she was leaving me to go work for Greedy permanently. Greedy was a freak and a coke head. I heard that she was freaking off with Iasia, and had her getting high. I was enraged! After all I did for her that was the thanks I got. She abandoned me for some head. She had no idea what loyalty meant, but I was going to teach her a lesson. I went and got Queenie and we went to Gates Avenue, where Greedy lived, ready for war. I knocked on Greedy’s door and she opened up nervously. She didn’t want the drama and didn’t waste any time calling the little traitor to the door. She pushed her out in the hallway and closed her door on her. Smart move on her part, because I brought Queenie to jump on her, while I whooped the Benedict Arnold’s ass. We didn’t waste any time once we got the traitor in the hall way. “So, you thought you was gonna’ diss me for that bitch?”, I sputtered seething with fury.
“No” she whimpered.
“Yes, you did! you ungrateful bitch” WHAP! I hauled off and smacked her. After that it was on. Queenie slammed her to the ground and kicked her viciously. Then we dragged her down the stairs, while still pummeling her with blows, and dumped her unceremoniously into the trunk of my car. We were crazy! Gates Avenue was p
acked with people. It was a summer night and everybody was outside, staring nosily. We took her to my crib and tied her to my bed, while continuing to smack her around. Queenie ended up leaving so I took over. She cried and begged for me to let her go use the bathroom. I should have let her urinate on herself, because as soon as I untied her, she bolted out the door. I chased her, but she got away. I was pissed but not really too concerned. I smoked a blunt and went to sleep, preparing to deal with finding her again the next day. Queenie told me to change my locks, but I paid it no mind. I should have listened. Yet, again I slept another snake. So, what happened? I got bit. I came home from hustling two days later and found a hanger swinging on my doorknob. She got me! The traitor did a full-fledged heist. She wiped me out. I’m talking about my Televisions, stereo system, jewelry, clothes, purses and shoes. She hit me where it hurt. I kept her picture on my night stand for six months. Every time I looked at her picture, the pain was fresh, and I would plot my revenge. I had a hit out on her, but nobody had seen her. She was laying low. One night, I got a call that she was at the Empire Skating Rink, a popular rink in Brooklyn. I jumped up and headed to the rink. It was crowded that night. I had to play the wall and let everybody pass me. Finally, I spotted her and, sure enough, she was approaching me. Guess who she was with? Greedy! I had my razor in my mouth and I spit it out, getting ready to make my move. As soon as Greedy seen me, her eyes bugged out of her head. She signaled behind her as to tell me “There she go.” She sold her out! She knew somebody’s ass was going to get touched, and she didn’t want to be the victim. I let her pass and caught the Iasia from behind as she passed me in the single file line. She never saw it coming. I had her in a choke hold and tore the flesh of her soft cheeks apart. I will never forget how it felt to slash her face. I was so happy to finally get her. I think that I might have shouted “YES!” She started screaming when the blood gushed from her face and I hauled ass out of the rink. Mission Accomplished!
