Decoded (32 page)

I’m Gonna Be a Failure. (0:39)

[
Jay-Z
] / Geah … whassup? / Where’s all my street niggaz, project niggaz / Real niggas, worldwide / Let’s reflect … e’rybody got a story / We all ghetto B—here’s mine / Geah / See I was—
born in sewage, born to make bomb music
¹
/
Flow tight like I was born Jewish
²
/ Used the streets as a conduit—
I kept arms / 38 longs
³
inside my mom’s Buick / At any given moment Shawn could lose it, be on the news /
Iron cuffs—arms through it;
⁴
or stuffed with embalmin fluid / Shit, I’m goin through it—mom dukes too / Tears streamin down her pretty face, she got her palms to it / My life is gettin too wild / I need to bring some sorta calm to it /
’Bout to lose it; voices screamin “Don’t do it!”
⁵
 / It’s like ’93, ’94, ’bout the year /
that Big and Mac dropped;
⁶
and
Illmatic
rocked / outta every rag drop, and the West had it locked / Everybody doin ’em, I’m still scratchin on the block /
like “Damn; I’ma be a failure”
⁷
/ Surrounded by thugs, drugs, and drug paraphernalia / Cops courts and their thoughts is to derail us /
Three-time felons in shorts
⁸
with jealous thoughts / Tryin figure where your mail is, guesstimate the weight you sellin / So they can send shots straight to your melon; wait! / It gets worse, baby momma water burst /
Baby came out stillborn, still I gotta move on
⁹
/ Though my heart still torn, life gone from her womb / Don’t worry, if it was meant to be, it’ll be—soon / [
Chorus
] This can’t be life, this can’t be love / This can’t be right, there’s gotta be more, this can’t be us / This can’t be life, this can’t be love / This can’t be right, there’s gotta be more, this can’t be us / [
Scarface
] / Yeah … uhh … / Now as I walk into the studio, to do this with Jig’ / I got a phone call from one of my nigs / Said my homeboy Reek, he just lost one of his kids / And when I heard that I just broke into tears / And see in the second hand; you don’t really know how this is / But when it hits that close to home you feel the pain at the crib / So I called mine, and saddened my wife with the bad news / Now we both depressed, countin our blessings cause Brad’s two / Prayin for young souls to laugh at life through the stars / Lovin your kids just like you was ours / And I’m hurtin for you dog; but ain’t nobody pain is like yours / I just know that heaven’ll open these doors / And ain’t no bright side to losin life; but you can view it like this / God’s got open hands homey, he in the midst of good company / Who loves all and hates not one / And one day you gon’ be wit your son / I could’ve rapped about my hard times on this song / But heaven knows I woulda been wrong / I wouldn’ta been right, it wouldn’ta been love / It wouldn’ta been life, it wouldn’ta been us / This can’t be life / [
Chorus
] / [
Jay-Z
] / This can’t be life.

You’re my best friend’s sister, grown woman and all /
But you see how I am around girls; I ruin ’em all
²
 / Plus your mom call me son, around you since I was small /
Shit I watched you mature—nah, this ain’t right
³
/ But still when your boyfriend ditched you, life’s a bitch you cried / Over my right shoulder I told you to wipe your eyes / Take your time when you likin a guy /
Cause if he sense that your feelings too intense, it’s pimp or die
⁴
/ I bought you earrings on your birthday /
Drove you to college your first day
⁵
/ It must be sad, though it hurts to say / We could never be a item, don’t even like him /
You deserve better—this is ugly; Gina, please don’t love me
⁶
/ There’s better guys out there other than me / (You need a lawyer or a doctor or somebody like that you know) / Like a lawyer or a doctor with a Ph.D. / Think of how upset your mother and brother would be /
if they found that you was huggin me
⁷
/ My conscience is fuckin with me / Let him hold you, let him touch you / Soon you’ll un-der-stand / Man, I look in the eyes of a … / this … a kid that stole life we made together … / We’re tryin, really tryin to make it work / I’m young, and I ain’t ready, and I told you / Let him hold you, let him touch you / Soon you’ll un-der-stand / It ain’t like, I ain’t tell you from day one, I ain’t shit / When it comes to relationships, I don’t have the patience / Now it’s too late, we got a little life together / and in my mind I really want you to be my wife forever /
But in the physical it’s like I’ma be trife forever
⁸
/ A different girl every night forever; told you to leave / but you’re stubborn and you love him and, / no matter what despite all the fuckin and the cheatin, / you still won’t leave him, now you’re grievin / And I feel bad, believe me /
But I’m young and I ain’t ready, and this ain’t easy
⁹
/ Wasn’t fair to tell you to wait, so I told you to skate / You chose not to, now look at the shit we gotta go through /
Don’t want to fight, don’t want to fuss, you the mother of my baby
¹⁰
/ I don’t want you to hate me, this is about us /
Rather me; I ain’t ready to be what you want me to be
/
Because I love you, I want you to leave, please
¹¹
/ Let him hold you, let him touch you / Soon you’ll un-der-stand / Mm … listen ma / I mean, I seen you workin two or three jobs / Daddy left … I thought I was makin things better / I made it worse / Let him hold you, let him touch you / Soon you’ll un-der-stand /
Dear ma, I’m in the cell, lonely as hell
¹²
/ Writin this scribe, thinkin bout how you must feel inside /
You tried to teach me better, but I refused to grow
¹³
/ Goddamn I ain’t the young man that you used to know / You said the street claims lives, but I wanted things like / bling bling ice I was wrong in hindsight / Shit we grew apart, try to blame it on your new spouse / I know it hurt like hell the day you kicked me out / But your house is your house, I ain’t respect the rules / I brought crack past your door, beefed with rival crews / And who wants to be the mother of a son who sold drugs / Co-workers saw me on the corner slingin Larry Love / Meanwhile, you workin hard like, two or three jobs / Tryin to feed me and my siblings, makin an honest livin / Who am I kiddin I call myself easin the load / I made the load heavy, I need money for commissary / Try to understand, please / Let him hold you, let him touch you / Soon you’ll un-der-stand

M
y grandfather was a pastor—an Elder, they called them—in the Church of God in Christ, a Pentecostal denomination. He had the same name as my father, Abnis Reid, so they called my father AJ, for Abnis Junior. My grandmother Ruby was a deaconess in the same church. My father came from a strict, religious household, but sanctified churches are rooted in African traditions, so music, especially drumming—even if it’s only drumming by clapping your hands together—played a big part of the service. Worship is never a quiet thing in the Church of God in Christ congregation, people passing out, speaking in tongues, or tarrying for hours until they become possessed with the Holy Ghost and the church mothers, dressed in nurse’s uniforms, come and revive them.

My father’s parents were strict. Secular music like the Motown sound was forbidden in AJ’s house, but he snuck and listened anyway. The whole family had to be in church all the time, like four, five days a week. His three sisters couldn’t wear makeup or pants, and his two brothers spent most of the week in church, too.

Church wasn’t a major part of my life growing up, as it had been for my father—soul in our house usually referred to the music. But when you grow up in a place like Bed-Stuy, church is everywhere. So is mosque. So are a thousand other ways of believing. Street corners were where all these different beliefs met—Pentecostals arguing scripture with Jehovah’s Witnesses, clean-cut brothers in bow ties and dark suits brushing past cats wearing fezzes and long beards, someone with a bullhorn or a mic and an amplifier booming out a sermon. We were all just living life, trying to get through, survive, thrive, whatever, but in the back of our minds, there was always a larger plan that we tried to make sense of. I was always fascinated by religion and curious about people’s different ideas. And like everyone, I’ve always wanted answers to the basic questions. Still, by the time I reached my teens, the only time I’d be anywhere near a church was when someone I knew died, and even then I wouldn’t necessarily go in. But I wasn’t looking for church, anyway; I was looking for an explanation.