The year was 1970 somethin', No wait Mid-October to be exact. A black godess gave a rare birth bare back to an all black Silver Back baby. The earth shook and went crazy, broke apart and raized a lyrical assassin. Papa Rock Capone' assumed the alias, second eldest of 3 sons. My early childhood as I recall, wasn't the greatest. Rather all I had. Instilled at an early age a hard knock life, mixed with the basic fundamentals of orginization and team work, mapped out the intricate blue points to who I am today.A willing participant, if you will, in growing up in the mean streets of Pasadena's rugged, often abrasive sub-rural environment. Exposed me to many harsh realities, for lack of, real life terrors n horrors associated with almost surreal gang infestation, drug dealings and real kingpins. Murder rates sored threw the roof, anxious and over zealous corrupt policing agencies panicked. From your everyday street cop, to the high profiled dogged homicide detectives 4 deep canvasing and patroling my hood as if it was a muthafucken de-militarized zone!!!. Everyone is considered suspects. Pimps , ho's, Jackers, dope fiend cutthroats. To the usual pri-mortal mix, bottom of the barrel hustlaz'. I've carried so many caskets to be buried I often forget what it feels like to be alive. After a while you lose count, downsize to one suit whilekeepin the white cotton gloves in my back pocket. Reminicing about the harsh realities of the life we live. Like so many other young adolescent males chasing the quick come-up. I too was lured into criminal undertakings associated with the underworld activities that only a select a priviledged to. Easily influenced and mesmorized by the glitz and glam of the drug underworld at the age of 15.
I found myself behind the wheel of a brand new 1982 Cadillac Coupe De Ville. Soakin up the game and living like a REAL gangsta. It wasn't all gravy. I grew up fighting almost everyday to survive. BIG UP's to Canto Robledo's "Crown City Stables" in Pasadena. Being the runt of the litter, at my size didn't help. Not only did I get tested everyday by my hood homies but niggaz in the streets. That's when they learned who the "MUTHAFUCKEN KNOCKOUT ARTIST WAS."!!
I wrote my first Rap in a jail cell on the 10th floor of the Hall Of Justice jail. Downtown Los Angeles was the location. I was known as "Kid Fila Fresh". Throughout my tours of duty and multiple stints in the California Penal System which included 8 consecutive terms. I was quick to hit the yard with a Hump tumbler of coffee, and a 18 inch K-Sue ready to battle any nigga in a heartbeat. Battle ax cut Cadillacs n' battle raps was my muthafucken motto! Every single time my chuck's hit the bricks , I had a ruthless mentality and a psycotic flow that was unheard of. I stayed from sun up to sun down exposing the apex predator my soul released.
My father was a prominent activist who tried to instill in me and my sibblings the importance of a multi networking unit. To form a bigger more powerful and efficient single unit organization that has structure at its stongest form within. I've carried out , implemented and utilized those words throughout my whole life in all relationships. Both intimate and business. Survival of the fittest and trust no frenemies!!
I have launched the 5150 project with progression. Oganized confussion at its finest!! My main objective is to bring a big enough plate to the table to get everyone involved, handsomely fed and paid.!! "Nigga bring your BIBBS! This might get a little messy!"
P.S Ladies did I mention mines bends when other niggaz ends!!!Yours Truly,
Papa Rock Capone aka Rokklockart
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