I use the word "nigga" a lot... 

I mean a whole lot! If I see Budd in the morning I usually say, "What up my nigga?" If I feel a person is pulling my leg about something I'll usually call him on it by saying, "Nigga please!" If a person looks out for me in any way, let's say by sliding me a free joint, I'll usually hit him with a, "My nigga!" If I see someone I fuck with (No Homo) doing something stupid I'll drop a, "nigga?".....You get the picture. 

Today Budd asked me why I use the word Nigga so much. Actually Budd didn't use the word nigga he said, "The n-word." So I fucked with him and asked him what word was he talking about. I said, "neodymium, nonproliferation, numismatics. I could have gone on and on, but Budd was getting a little irritated with me. The reason I think I use the word nigga so much is simple.... It makes white people uncomfortable. There, I said it. The truth is, the word nigga doesn't bother the majority of my generation. At least inside of our circle. Black men call each other nigga in an endearing way behind closed doors and no one blinks an eye. I know black lawyers, black doctors and a black city council member who use the word nigga in private. Now in a public setting I tend to be more politically correct. I believe it's your surroundings that dictate your speech and mannerism. Your work persona is different than your at home persona. The way you speak to an elder is different than the way you'd speak to a peer closer to your age. And so on, and so on. 
The reason I'm getting all of this off my chest is because of the conversation I had with an older dude named Marcus X. Marcus X overheard Budd and I talking and decided to put his two cents in. Marcus X said that the word Nigga is used by ignorant Black folk, (I'm almost positive that was directed towards me.) who don't understand their culture. He then went on and on about how the white man stole our identity, how the white man replaced our African names with white European names, blah, blah, blah, blah... I'd heard enough. " Nigga, you sound like an idiot!" "All of this coming from a nigga who's last name is Fieldhand." Oh, I wasn't through yet. "Yeah nigga, I'm there when they give out the mail and call out your name." "If my last name was Fieldhand I'd change it too, but I'd be a little more original than X." 
The truth is I understand the plight of the black man in America. What happened to my people is the single greatest tragedy in human history, but don't think it all started with the white man. Let's not forget that black Egyptians enslaved black Israelites. Let's not forget that Africans were enslaved by Islamic Arabs from about the 9th century to the 19th century and all of this before the white man got involved. To quote my nigga Big Rob, "Shit happens, deal with it and keep it pushing. That's the breaks, nigga!" I'm over it, are you?

Deuteronomy 28:36

The Lord will bring you and the king whom you set over you to a nation which neither you nor your fathers have known,and there you shall serve other gods-wood and stone. And you shall become an astonishment, a proverb and a byword among all nations where the Lord will drive you.

Deuteronomy 28:41
You shall begat sons and daughters, but they shall not be yours, for they shall go into captivity.

Deuteronomy 30:1-3
Now it shall come to pass, when all these things come upon you, the blessing and the curse which I have set before you, and you call them to mind among all the nations where the Lord your God drive you, and you return to the Lord your God and obey His voice, according to all that I command you today, you and your children, with all your heart and with all your soul, that the Lord your God will bring you back from captivity, and have compassion on you, and gather you again from all the nations where the Lord your God has scattered you.


In my whole life I've only told two women outside of relatives, "I love you." 

Budd asked me something today that intrigued me. He asked, "If it was only you and one other women left in the world, Would you want it to be... (A), a women that loved you, but you didn't love her, or (B), a women you loved that didn't love you?" Sherri M. Morales (AKA Smooch) was the love of my life. I say WAS, because no women is gonna wait ten years for a nigga.In 1989 when I met Smooch I was still 7 months away from my 21st birthday. I was getting my drink on at the NCO club with niggas from my unit. My man Perry stepped into the club with the flyest honey I'd ever seen! He introduced us and I was speechless. Her name was Sherri. Unfortunately I didn't get to shoot the gift at her that night, because this skinny ass chicken head had been sweating your boy all night. Don't ask me how I got stuck with wing man duty for Mac, but the nigga was gonna owe me big for this one. I cornered my man Perry later that night at Denny's and asked about Sherri. He assured me they were just friends. Cool! That's all I needed to hear. By the time I got around to shooting my game a nigga named Mark Bell had already had her on lock. So I did what any real player would do... I respected the game and kept it pushing. Now Mark and I had a history on the Army base. It seems that Mark and I were seeing at least two of the same women. I know for a fact that as I was leaving a bitch's crib once Mark was pulling up. I even waited to see which apartment he was going to and sure enough it was the one I had just left. I hope he didn't kiss her that night. Months went by without seeing Sherri and I heard that she had went back to Texas. I tried to put her out of my mind but I couldn't. A few weeks before my 21st birthday I was at the mall about to get my shop on when I saw HER. I knew it was her instantly! She was in a men's store shopping. I went into the store and our eyes met, but I knew at that moment she didn't recognize me. Time to improvise, Hype. I went right up to her and asked her if there was anything I could help her with. She told me she was looking for an outfit for her boyfriend. (I knew it was that nigga Mark.) So I played the role and helped her pick out about three outfits. Now, during all this time I'm flirting with her and hitting her with all my best, but this girl would not cave in. If it's possible I think this made her even more attractive to me. She finally went to pay for the gear that I picked out for her. When she went to the cashier she told the salesman she wanted me to get the commission. That nigga looked at her crazy. When she finally figured out that I didn't work there she busted out laughing and said the words that made me fall in love with her. "Michael!" So, she did remember me! I finally talked her into buying me a milkshake at Baskin Robbins, for helping her pick out the outfit. We kicked it and talked for almost an hour. To my amazement we had a lot in common. Books, music and movies. And she never smirked when I flexed my vocabulary. You'd be amazed at how many niggas think you're some kind of punk for speaking proper. (Black people, please stop associating talking proper with being white.) Anyway, after all was said and done I asked her if she needed a ride home. She hit me with the, "Nigga you cute, but you ain't no Denzel" look. I got the picture crystal clear. Over the course of the next few weeks I would bump into her constantly. 4th of July weekend we were all at the NCO club getting our party on. The placed was packed! My whole crew was there, getting our drink on and fucking with every civilian broad that crossed our path. On my way to the bar I spotted Mark in a secluded corner making cozy with a thick ass red bone. I couldn't help but laugh. At the bar I placed my order and saw my main man Dee Love enter with a little fly bitch named Sharon. I knew Dee had been spitting at her for a few weeks, but now it looked liked it had finally paid off. We acknowledged each other form across the room with a little head tilt and then Dee held up three fingers and made a jester. Basically what Dee said was, "Get me three Long Island Iced teas" and my next three drinks were on him. Cool, I wasn't tripping and the club was packed. And then it hit me, this nigga said three drinks, but It's just him and Sharon... And then she appeared. Sherri! Sherri was with them. I paid for the drinks and asked a waitress named, Donna (who happened to be fucking my main man, Bilal) could she bring the drinks over to my table. She looked at me like I just wiped my dick across her grilled cheese sandwich, so I gave her a five spot and said please. When I got to the table, Sherri was seated with Sharon, whom I found out was her cousin. She got the whole table laughing by telling the "Mall Story." By the end of the night I knew she was feeling your boy, but none of that mattered because she left with Mark. I hadn't figured it out yet, but I knew Sherri was gonna be mine when all was said and done.