Friday, November 30, 2012

The Trials And Tribulations Of Da God Right Add

    Be God dug into his right jean pocket, removing a cellophane bag of white powder along with some loose change. At the sight of the powder Right Add instantly turned away, he knew exactly what it was.

     “God you just said a Father is one who is responsible for his community, looks after it, and keeps it safe and then you pull out cocaine? You manifested a beautiful build on the Supreme Alphabet and then you pull out cocaine? God see that’s the type of contradiction I can’t live with any more. That half-way righteous shit don’t rock for me no more God.” Right Add turned away, shaking his head like an old grandmother, and like an old grandmother he added a disapproving, “Um-um-um” under his breath in an attempt to further shame Be God.

    “Yall Christian ass Gods funny as shit. Nigga you use to snort more than me. You accepted Jesus Christ as your personal lord and savior? Why don’t you just go up in Harriet Tubman and buy one of the Muslim hats with the tassle on top.”

      Careful and meticulous like a scientist Be God unwrapped the cellophane bag, then pulled out a hundred dollar bill off the top of a rubber-banded cash knot and with the skill of a sculptor managed to shape the Benjamin into a ladle, but instead of soup he scooped-up a nostril full of China white, then, inconspicuously ducking down behind the steering wheel he took a bump of blow in to his right nostril, suctioning the powder deep into his brain. Quickly he rose up, taking a refreshing deep breath and then again ducking down taking another scoop with the alternate left nostril: another deep long swine like snort.

     “Nigga this that shit up from Houston, not that ATL stepped-on shit, less than one cut on it. Snort-a-bump for old time sake G-O-D! It’s that Houston understanding God, fresh over the border nigga.” Be God urged, tempting Add.

     “Now Cipher! You justify your filthy affairs and dirty religion using your distorted, and diluted version of the truth God.” Right Add said accusingly, continuingly looking out the passenger side window, ignoring the glorious snorting sounds of the Houston flame going up Be God’s nostrils.

     “Yo Emblem. You want a bump God?” he said looking in the rear-view mirror at Em.

     “I’m peace God. God you can let me out I got to handle some math across the street.” Emblem said.

     Be God got the hint and unlocked the door, letting Emblem out.

     “Yall Gods be peace.” Emblem said walking away from the vehicle.

     “Cee what happens when you bring that understanding out. Pussy niggaz get shook as fuck. That’s what you gonna become God? One of those niggaz who get shook as fuck when the understanding come out and the temperature in the room goes up?”Be asked Add, referring to Emblem.

     “I’m good on the understanding tip Lord. Knowledge power months all being born to my understanding. That shit gotta expiration date Gee and I ain’t gotta put it through my nose no more Lord.”

      “Aw here we go! You did fifteen months in the county and now you on some self-righteous shit. ‘Been there-done that’ God. Fifteen months ain’t shit and fifteen months in some country ass Virginia county lock-up definitely ain’t shit.  That true I master equal killed the muscle in your hustle? Not Da God Right Add! You ain’t goin’ down to Victory Allah to get that cream no more? Not Da God Right Add Allah! Say it ain’t so!” Be God was mocking Right Add’s new post-prison house righteous demeanor.

      “After that experience I took the devil under heel! I took the devil under heel! I took the devil under heel!” Right Add chanted, rocking back and forth like a soldier afflicted with post traumatic stress disorder. “A little bit of weed is all I need. That other devilishment like that grafted powder you’re putting up your nose, I’m done with that snake venom.”

     “My degrees say ‘into hell’ not ‘under heel’.” Be God nit-picked just to nit-pick, imitating religious Gods.

      “Under heel or into hell? Whateva nigga!  You can’t tell me 120 ain’t real God. I lived it- it unfolded in front of my face nigga…” Add looked as if he was on the verge of tears, testifying like a syphilitic whore in church accepting Christ as savior.

     “Hold that the thought.” Be God said, intentionally cutting Add off, minimizing the drama and seriousness of Right Add’s experience. Loudly he powered each nostril again. “God you sure you don’t want a bump of this flame? Them Texas niggaz  bringin’ up that ill shit-shit is better than any package Dominican niggaz or ATL niggaz ever delivered. You remember when I told you Darlene fucked up that chunk-paper? Princess dumb ass can’t count. Like mother like daughter-dumb ass bitches. Broke me down to 22 racks. I called myself getting on that goodie-two shoe God shit, starting a business in the black community and what-not. Darlene came to me crying, “We only got 22 geez!” I ain’t argue wit da bitch. I grabbed the wisdom wisdom racks, copped a brick from them Texas niggas and ain’t look back. Fuck that Cliff Huxstable shit.  That goodie-two shoe God shit will make you a poor righteous teacher indeed. So nigga you best wake the fuck up and put whatever jail-house Koran you wrote in the past where it belongs: in the past. And go out to Victory Allah and get dis money nigga.” Be God scolded Add as if Add was a kid.

     “There is no unrighteousness in him! There is no unrighteousness in him! There is no unrighteousness in him! There is no unrighteousness in him! There is no unrighteousness in him.” Add just rocked back and forth again and again like a traumatized war vet home from Afghanistan. He looked crazy.

     “Did the Aryan Brotherhood rape you or somethin’ nigga? What da fuck is wrong wit chu Add?” Be God yelled, looking at his one-time hustlin’ A-alike like he was crazy.

     “Hell no they ain’t rape me nigga. The fuckin’ correctional officers tortured me, violated my constitutional rights. Fuckin devils!  They showed and proved that the colored man is da Caucasian or White Man Yacob’s grafted devil. Point fuckin blank! Fuck you Be God, you can go on wit that H.G. Wells bullshit theories about Asiatic history  all da fuck you want. 120 unfolded in front of my eyes God like the reality it is.” Right Add yelled as if a mad man about to snap.

  “What the fuck happened to you! You ain’t the same Right Add nigga! Honestly I thought you was in Victory Allah snitchin’ when I ain’t hear from you. I ain’t know shit. No indictments came down so I figured you kept your mouth shut and did your little time or whateva-whateva.”

     “Now cipher I wasn’t snitchin nigga!  God you just sat here and ran down this beautiful build about how you see Supreme Alphabet and Math and that’s peace, b.u.t. God you ain’t gonna tell me 120 ain’t real. That shit is real in the battle-field, it saved my life. Remember the rich white bitch I was fuckin’ in Victory Allah?”

     “Y equal Self!”

   “Well the bitch leased me a fly ass condo, it was supposed to be our little fuck spot. Condo management had to paint and repair minor shit before I moved in, so in the meantime the white bitch gets me a telly for a week. Her husband-the judge called her on some emergency shit-so the white bitch bounced. I was cool wit that. That shit you snorting right there…” Add pointed at the cellophane bag of blow in the truck’s ash tray. “…that flame from Houston you first floated me had me buzzin, feelin good than a movafucka. Niggaz in V.A. was calling that shit Columbiana. Remember when that movie Columbiana came out? Well that’s the nick name niggaz in Victory Allah put on that flame. I did like you said, no ‘stepsies’, ain’t put no cut on it, kept it raw as Ole Dirty. All them Victory Allah niggaz was lookin’ for that kid Right Add from Now Why. All I had was a brick and a half. Remember? I couldn’t keep that shit in the store. I sold damn near one and a half bricks before noon. I kept four and half ounces for personal, cause I never snorted coke that pure. Word is Bond. The shit ain’t have none of them shoe prints from ATL tap dancin’ niggaz on it. Them niggaz was puttin’ baby laxative on the brick every step of the way up I-95.”

     “I’m in the telly, and the white bitch texts me the word ‘Handcuffs’, which meant that she couldn’t get away from her husband. Her husband had become mad suspicious. So I’m in the telly with the best coke I ever snorted, and no power you. The coke had me hornier than a savage in the pursuit. So I say fuck it; get fly, and hit the strip club the same way I came to North America, and took a few samples of the flame for bitches. While I’m in the club two hoes give me a lap dance. I pay ‘em wisdom cipher and tip ‘em each a half-a-gram of the flame.”

      “I’m sipping on a Heineken watching the other hoes in the club swing from poles and both the bitches I tricked-off a gram to came back after they took a bump. The bitches was like, “Nigga what chu tryna’ do?”

     I told ‘em off rip, “I’m tryna put my dick in both yall mouth.” Right Add said, causing Be to laugh loudly. This was the old Add Be knew.

      “You got more of that?” One of the hoes asked me. I ain’t answer that bitch. My diamond watch told the bitch I had a boat load of coke. The two bitches had a quick whore conference, working out how they were gonna play it. I’m still sippin’ on the first Heineken, doing the knowledge on the other hoes. Finally, the bitches got it in gear, one hoe had a bucket so they followed me back to the telly. We stop at a light. The hoes is behind me in their cee Allah rule and I noticed in my rear-view that the bitch driving was on her phone. My Knowledge Wisdom Cipher turns on like GPS nigga and in my heart of hearts I feel like this bitch is on the power he with da wolves.”

      Add’s words had Be God dialed all the way in, watching it in his third as if it was a 60 inch high def smart true victory.

     “I start mumblin’ to myself, ““You out here mingling with these 85 snakes on the verge of fallin’ victim.”” I could feel this bitch was planning to bring wolves to the door. At that point I’m caught between two places in knowledge wisdom cipher. On one-hand I’m horny and I really wanna live-out a beast life that night and on the other hand I think the whore on the power he, tailing me in the bucket is making arrangements to feed me to some wild beasts on some Nurse shit.”  

      “And you know what God?” Right Add asked Be God, captivated by Add’s story.

     “What?” Be God answered.

     “My dumb ass follows my dick on some easily led in the wrong direction shit. Like Musa had a hard-time, I had a hard dick, all I could imagine was one of them hoes suckin’ on my balls while the other one was suckin’ my dick. The black germ in me was tryna civilize the weaker brown germ in my body. Black Germ telling me to relax, and cool the fuck out while the brown germ wanna throat fuck both them bitches. In my third eye the germs in my body are separating God. I could literally feel myself grafting Black into white. I got my hands on the steering wheel and in my head I’m listening to the brown germ and the black germ argue. Brown germ said that the bitches just wanna snort some blow and fuck, and that the whores ain’t even swift enough to set-up a sharp nigga like me: I’m Da God Add! The black germ goes to the born degree and says don’t take them whores on face value.”

      “My name was already ringin’. D.C. niggaz, Victory Allah niggaz was all talkin’ bout da kid Add from New York is a millionaire. Far from a fuckin’ millionaire, I’m no where near. 31, 32 thou at best, and the white bitch was holdin’13 ‘break in case of emergency’ racks. Victory Allah niggaz just knew I had that raw, but couldn’t put a name to the face. So these bitches is tailing me right! Later I realize the bitches is lookin’ dead at my New York plates.  The bitches put two and two together that I must be that kid Add from New York wit da Columbiana. I ain’t realize that angle of the square until I was sittin’ in a jail cell gettin’ beat wit many stripes. That night, living a beast-life kicked the shit out of all my inclinations leaning toward a right and exact sense of civilization. Instead of shaking these bitches I go against my better judgment, bring ‘em back to the telly, hoping like hell that these bitches is too blind, too deaf, and too dumb to bring wolves to da door.”

     “We in the room, and I’m settin out the blow, put an L of kush in the air and one the bitches  start baby-sittin’ the blunt talkin’ bout, “I like the way yall talk in New York.” I don’t pay this country bitch no mind and without hesitation I pull down my pants, whip my divine eye out and sprinkle flame on it. I make these bitches do what they W-2 tax forms say they get paid to do-which is suck my movafuckin’ dick.  One of ‘em was a bad bitch, and the other one was just ‘alright’. They doin’ they thing but I ain’t feelin’ shit, my dick and balls numb as fuck from the flame. All I hear is the bitches slurpin’. The alright lookin’ bitch kept stoppin’ and saying, “This some good coke!”  I’m lookin’ down at both the bitches’ peeping their  weave tracks and I say to the alright lookin’ bitch who kept talkin instead of suckin’, “I ain’t tryna look down on you ma but put my left nut back in your mouth and shut da fuck up.”

     “God you crazy as fuck!” Be God laughed while rollin another L.

      Even though I told the bitch to put these nuts back in her mouth, every 30 seconds, the bitch would pop her head up, “This coke that shit.”

     “Word is bond Be, even though I ain’t in the game no-more that Columbiana shit from Houston was pushing them Victory Allah niggaz  wigz da fuck back son. Finally, the alright lookin bitch gets off her knees to use the bathroom. The Bad bitch was doing her justice cipher born, goin’ hard on the divine eye. While the alright bitch was in the bathroom I listened for the sound of a stream of piss, even the sound of shit ploppin in toilet water, not even the faucet came on. The bitch was on her phone whisperin’ to da wolves. I pushed the bad bitch off my dick, pulled my pants up from around my ankles. I had to go. The bad bitch looked up at me and asked, “What’s up?” and I told her, “I gotta get some condoms from the whip. I wasn’t going to get condoms-I was gettin’ the fuck outta dodge. My 120 was on high alert blinking in bright red in my head, ‘THE WOLVES ARE COMING’. The whistle in the whip. The white bitch had my other whistle. The alright-lookin’ bitch opened the bathroom door and asked, “Where you goin’ bae!” I told her the same bullshit, “I’m going to the whip to get a condom.” And the alright lookin bitch says, “Booh I got plenty condoms!”  

     “Fuck bullshitting these hoes. I opened the drawer next to the bed because I had the four and a half ounces of blow on top of the Gideon Bible. As soon as I see the bible my 120 GPS spits the knowledge degree in the one to forty in a split second, ‘Who wrote the Holy Quran or Bible How Long Ago? And will you tell us why does Islam renew its History every 25,000 years?”  I immediately realize these bitches tryna get my Quran expired. At that point I’m moving at a terrific speed, snatch the understanding from the Gideon Bible and bolted. The bitches see all the blow, and their eyes get big but they don’t make a move. I get my car keys and get to the parking lot. As soon as I close the Tahoe doors the wolves turn into the hotel parking lot, riding four or five deep in a rust color Crown Vic. I see the wolves before the wolves see me. I dip past these niggaz real smooth. They goin’ one way and I’m goin’ the other. 85 Niggaz was planning to ‘First 48’ Da God. Fuck that shit!”

     “The fucked up thing is that now I’m riding dirty, more than enough understanding under the arm-rest to put me under the prison house. My plan was to dip to a restaurant, get some coffee and clear my head. After a few left turns and a couple sharp rights on back streets I realize I got the same head-lights in the rear-view and it wasn’t the wolves who turned into the telly parking lot. My third calculating, tryna figure out who da fuck is this?   I catch a view in the streetlights and see it’s a white movafucka. First thing I think is ‘Feds’. My heart drop. I’m thinkin’ RICCO on some 240 months shit and start thinking, ‘where can I dump da dope?’ He ain’t pull me over, but he ghostin a nigga hard. I turn into a gas station, and play the ‘gettin gas’ role. Whiteboy turn in with me but didn’t turn into a pump, instead he parks. When I knew he wasn’t looking I was gonna dump the coke in the trash can between the seventh and eighth pump. I refined that thought and realized the feds would fish that shit out. Then I see the squeegee holder fabricated into the side of the trash can filled wit dirty Windex and water. I pick up the squeegee and dump the coke in the dirty Windex and water. Feds wouldn’t think to look in there. I start cleaning off my windshield, humming casually like I’m innocent John Q Public. White dude gets out of the car, and walks toward me. I’m peeping dude out of my peripheral but I’m focused on cleaning my windshield. When he got close he asked me “What happened over at the hotel?” The White man sounded clan affiliated.  I could tell he was on some official law enforcement shit. As I’m cleaning, I realize I still got the whistle in the whip. I dumped the coke, but still had the whistle.”

     “Who you?”

    “As soon as I asked, four police cars turned into the gas station. When I see the lights I know I got a gun charge and hoped that these movafuckuz wouldn’t search the squeegee holder.”

     “The room you came out of was rented with a stolen credit card and these officers would like to have a word with you.”

     “That was bullshit. The white bitch’s credit card was good.  The bitch’s husband who was a judge put a Private Eye on me and her and attached an addendum to all her accounts to be notified of her every purchase. Me and the white bitch had figured this out months earlier so she got a credit card in her maiden name. What we ain’t know is that her husband found out she had gotten another credit card and so when we checked-into the telly it raised a red flag and the judge was alerted. The Private Eye notified police. Even though I dumped the four and a half ounces of blow in the squeegee rack I still had the eight-ball in my pocket that I had set aside to trick on the hoes back at the telly and $7338 dollars in cash. They take me down for felony possession of a loaded firearm, felony possession of a controlled substance and fraudulent use of a credit card. They charged me, booked me and threw me in a cell with a dirty white boy withdrawing from Justin Bieber. This white movafucka skinny, stinky, and dirty as fuck. Needle marks everywhere. He laying in his bunk shivering, sweating and moaning. Dude stankin’.”

      Add paused, shaking his head as he was reliving the ordeal. He continued, “You know how you talk all that Supreme Alphabet shit? Well this white boy smelled like ‘Hell’. Love Hell and Right indeed which showed and proved that the smell of Hell was standing next to Right: me. This grafted snake’s funk wasn’t stinging somebody else it was stinging my nose.”

     ““Yo, Cee Ohh!” I’m yelling through the steel jail door tryna let the C.O. know that this white dude is sick. I’m thinking this whiteboy might have tuberculosis because he was coughing with the worse hack I ever heard”

     “Lights out!” The C.O. screamed back at me tryna get me to shut up.”

     ““But dude sick!” I’m tryna tell ‘em through the cell door.”

     “That’s the first warning!” He yells from the station-desk.”

    “I don’t want to find out what the wisdom warning is so I plays it cool and endure the funk of this whiteboy but then the white boy starts throwing up. Word is bond God, this whiteboy threw-up for a half hour straight before he started dry heaving. It’s only me and him in the cell and the floor of the cell is almost completely covered with vomit. The whiteboy can’t make it to the toilet to throw up.”

     ““Cee Oh! This dude sick and the vomit need to be cleaned up!” I yelled and banged on the door like a mad man.”

  “This big buzz-cut C.O. movafucka stands outside of the cell and starts writing me up. The second warning constituted as an official disciplinary demerit. I’m tryna show him that my celly is sick and he stink! I know they can smell him outside the door. Other inmates could smell this whiteboy in the other cells. The movafucka got open sores all over his body. I don’t know if this white boy got AIDS or what. The movafuckin cell floor was painted with vomit so I had to piss in the toilet standing on my tip-toes because I ain’t want to step in the whiteboy’s vomit. At about 3 a.m. the white boy starts shitting on himself. Explosive diarrhea! The back of his orange jumpsuit is shitty brown. I’m sitting on my top bunk like its sharks on the floor. I threw-up. I saw my vomit mix with devil vomit and the first thing I think about is how Yacob grafted the brown germ from the black germ into white. And word is bond God I start distilling because I realized I’ve fallen victim to devil civilization. My culture is freedom- freedom means you can leave. These Virginia White boys got me roped in a cave. I’m literally in the culture degree in the 1 to 14, smelling the white-boy’s shit in the caves of Europe. Eu means movafuckin hillsides and R-O-movafuckin’ P-E means the rope to bind a nigga in. No relief came. The Punks-Cee cipher punks got my power he, unconstitutionally blocking my right to due-process. I got that on my mind and screaming at the whiteboy to get up and use the toilet because his diarrhea was pouring out like liquid.”

    “So I scream again, ““Yo  Cee Oh!!” This movafuckin’ whiteboy shittin on himself. Then the same C.O. stands in front of my cell and tells me that with the third warning comes a 24 hour period of cell confinement which restricts me to my cell, meaning I gotta be in there with that whiteboy for 24 hours. The C.O. is ignoring what I’m saying, standing eight feet from the door barking my charges at me, acting like he can’t smell the feces in the cell. When he wrote me up he made a note that I used a racial slur. All I did was call him a movafuckin’ ‘whiteboy’ which I found out was a racial slur.”

     “I laid on my top bunk and I recited 120. I must have recited it power times before I fell asleep. At 5:30 a.m. they open the rectangular compartment in the door for the food tray. We get two food trays, an apple, a milk, a cereal and toast. The morning staff tells us to come to the door to retrieve our trays. The white boy is sleep or dead and I told them that there is vomit and feces on the floor. They give me thirty seconds to come to the door. I tell them again that its vomit and shit on the floor, and that my celly is real sick. I don’t get off the top bunk so they slam the rectangular steel compartment in the middle of the door.”

    “God I fuckin’ lost it. The last thing I had was a fuckin’ Heineken at the strip club. I’m hungry as a movafucka and on top of that I’m scheduled to be on cell restriction for the entire day.  The whiteboy still on the bottom bunk, finally he stopped shittin’ and throwing up. Around the God hour in the morning they send a white woman C.O. to the cell and she stands behind this red line approximately 8 feet from the cell door barking some more charges claiming that I’m conspiring to use feces as a weapon and that constitutes as intent to harm a correctional officer and in doing so nine months on top of my time will be added to my pending sentence to be determined at trial. “

    “God I snapped, I’m at the top of my lungs with “The colored man is the Caucasion or whiteman Yacob’s grafted devil!” God I screamed like I was insane. “You fuckin’ white devil! You fuckin’ white devil bitch! All the while I’m screaming this big white dyke bitch is calmly writing. These country movafuckuz is violating not only my civil and constitutional rights but they violating my human rights. And they violating the sick whiteboy’s rights because it’s mad obvious he needs medical attention.  The Whiteboy is still curled in his fetal position. I’m desperate at that point. I got to get out of that cell.  So I scream that I need my psych meds. I lie and tell them I’m bi-polar and schizophrenic and I need my meds!  I tell them that I’m having visions of cutting my celly’s throat.” I keep making threats of violence directed to my celly hoping that they forcibly extract me from this fuckin’ filthy ass stankin ass cell. Put me anywhere but here. Fuck the gun charge I’d take it, fuck the drug possession charge-I’ll take it. Fuck the movafuckin’ credit card fraud charge-I’d take it: just get me the fuck out of this cell is all I was thinkin.”

    “It worked. I see an extraction team set up outside of the cell. These whiteboys are dressed like firemen and S.W.A.T. all wrapped in one, wearing a combination of combat gear and yellow bio-hazmat suits because the night-shift C.O. informed them that I was using feces as a weapon.”

   “As they were preparing to extract me I sat up on the side of the top bunk waiting for them, rocking back and forth chanting, “Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Six big corn-fed white boys breached the door and the water hose went off in my face full blast knocking me back against the wall. I fell off the top bunk. “Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! They draggin’ me on the floor through this whiteboy’s shit and vomit. I get this white heroin addicts defecation on my body. These movafuckuz is restraining me like I’m resisting. Arm twisted behind my back, boots between my shoulder blades. My other arm popped out of the socket and the right side of my face is pressed against the whiteboy’s vomit and shit on the cell floor.  The whiteboy still in the fetal position on the bottom bunk sleeping like a newborn fuckin baby. I stopped chanting, ‘who is the Original man’ because I don’t want the whiteboy’s shit or vomit gettin’ in my mouth because it’s bad enough it’s all in my ear and on the side of my face. So I disappear like the trader in the wisdom build to the peace of my black mind. Nigga, I get on some ‘Zen Bhuddist, 35,000’ years ago shit in my mind and even with the pain of my arm out of socket and these white boys beatin’ on my head I make it all the way to the equality degree in the one to ten in my mind before I lose consciousness and black da fuck out. “What is the exact square miles of useful land used by the total population of the Planet Earth everyday?”            

Monday, November 12, 2012

Be God Versus Right Add Allah: The Great Smoke-Out

Outside of Harriet Tubman is where the debate reduced into a civil and casual conversation. Be God stormed-out toward his whip with the words, “Dumb ass niggaz.” under his breath.  Right Add Allah was in a good mood, feeling as though he had won the debate because of Be-God’s outburst and the God’s lack of composure. Emblem caught up with Right Add outside of the auditorium and suggested that they get with Be God outside and finish on a ‘peace note’ without the emotionally charged atmosphere of a debate. Right Add agreed, and as they stepped out of Harriet Tubman there was Be God sitting in his truck across the street. Emblem and Right Add walked over to the SUV and Be God had already started rolling a blunt of Sour Diesel Kush.

 Emblem stood on the side of the vehicle waiting for Be God to roll his window down. As soon as he did, Emblem said, “Fuck all that debate shit G. Let’s just build how Gods build.”

Right Add got into the passenger seat, Emblem got in the back.

“God I don’t see how you can say that knowledge wisdom cipher ain’t the piece with the magnetic Lord?” Right Add asked, while hungrily looking at the blunt Be-God was rolling.

“You ever heard of H.G. Wells God?”

“Sounds familiar but now cipher.” Right Add answered.

“Emblem, you’re a writer. You ever heard of H.G. Wells.”

“Indeed. He was a fiction writer. He wrote The War of the Worlds.”

“When people get locked up they do a whole lot of reading to pass the time.” Be God was focused on rolling the ‘L’ but yet and still building. On February 15, 1926 the man known as Wallace Fard caught a dope case. He was in violation of the State of California’s Poison Control Act. Him and his people were attempting to sell dope to under-covers.”

“Now Cipher God. You can’t believe those F.B.I. files on the internet. They are lies lord.” Right Add said.

“It’s 1926. Fard is about 35 years old. That shit about him being born in 1877 in the Holy City of Mecca is bullshit. Everything the FBI had on dude said he was born in Portland, Oregon in 1891. So as I was saying, he’s 35 years old, a failing restaurant owner, and has a six year old son named Wallace Max Fard and a baby Mama named Hazel Barton. If you read the files it shows that the F.B.I. was basically striving to figure out what dude was about. It was a simple investigation of that time period. Its 1926 long before Elijah gave Fard ‘big G’ status. The N.O.I. lays that bullshit out for a nigga, telling you his mother was a White woman named Baby G and his Father Alphonso casted out her inner demons then he fucked her, had a daughter first and fucked her again and then had Fard. The history says that he learned from 23 or 24 scientist and what not. They ‘prettied’ that shit up and poured syrup on it to make that shit taste like pancakes. Niggaz ate that shit, and basically it covers up the reality of the man.” 

     Be God while building took out a lighter that looked super expensive. It was gold and encrusted with fake diamonds spelling in cursive the word ‘BE’. Be God lit the tip of the ‘L’.

“What da fuck this shit got to do with H.G. Wells?” Emblem asked from the back-seat.

“Da nigga caught the dope case right! And he got hit with six years and did three. He got convicted on May 28, 1926 and was received into San Quentin Penitentiary on June 12th 1926, inmate number 42314; Wallie D. Movafuckin’ Ford.  Fingerprints match him with the same cat who got locked up in D-Mecca and C-Medina in the 30’s. It was him! While he’s locked up, he’s puttin’ together his plans for his next grind. He was a little nigga in the joint so he read, played it safe in the prison library. One day he’s in the prison library and he picks up a book by H.G. Wells called The Island of Doctor Moreau. Any of yall niggaz ever read that shit?”

“I heard about it!” Emblem said.

“Naw nigga, fuck hearing about it; have you ever read it?” Be God asked slowly placing emphasis on each of his words, exhaling the kush from his lungs.

“Now Cipher.” Emblem and Right Add answered in unison.

“Doctor Moreau was basically a disgruntled scientist. He went to an Island in the South Pacific to turn animals into men by way of heredity. The story bears a striking similarity to the story of Yacob. Check out the movie and read the book. More importantly realize that there are no secondary sources outside of Fard, and Elijah to verify the story of Yacob. And please don’t say the shit is symbolism. Yes, one can interpret the story as symbolism, however the story of Yacob is so elaborate, and detail-oriented that it is obvious that it was not in any way intended to be symbolic. Fard made that shit up while he was locked up and passed it off to Elijah as the truth along with the rest of Asiatic mythology. H.G. Wells doesn’t write about dominate and recessive genes or what the understanding cipher degree in the one to forty defines as black and the brown germs but Mendel did and R.A. Fisher rediscovered his work in 1918. This knowledge of heredity had long since been a part of the science of heredity. White boys new this already and even though the science is true, Fard made the story of Yacob fit the scientific facts of genetics. “

“How can the story not be true if the science is right and exact?” Right Add asked.

“I can write a fiction novel surrounding Einstein’s theory of relativity. Just because I wrote a story based on the science of relativity, doesn’t make the story true. The story and the science ain’t the same fuckin’ thing.”

“Even if it is a story it conveys a reality.” Right Add added.

“The truth on the square is not fiction or symbolism. The truth is the truth and the square is the square. If niggaz can understand the story why can’t niggaz understand the truth on the square? White came from black is the bottom-line. So why does a nigga need a mad-scientist and his 59,999 followers to explain a simple scientific fact? Fard put it out there to be a con; to be a way of getting money, and I personally think none of his intentions were honorable. It was a fuckin’ hustle.  Did it do good? Why Equal Self! The Black Man is God was the best part of it all.  When you take away all that Yacob bullshit 120 shrinks to about 97 degrees give or take. My thing is get with the reality of it G not the perception because perception ain’t necessarily reality. “

 “Supreme Alphabet and Supreme Mathematics is the piece with the magnetic. It’s just that niggaz been ridin’ degrees so hard they can’t even see the beauty of what Allah gave us. They so busy quoting what Fard concocted in San Quentin they can’t build off Supreme Alphabet or Supreme Math properly.” Be God responded.

“Okay God, for the sake of building: if you’re not goin’ to  use one twenty to wake our people up. What are you going to use?”

“Allah to Zig and Knowledge to Born the Cipher is ill Lord. Movafuckuz don’t know how to fuck with it because they so busy ramblin’ off Elijah’s answers to Fard’s questions. Nigga please! Supreme Mathematics and Supreme Alphabet represent the perfection of God. Each aspect has an implicit and explicit determination. Their reality is purely in the science of the Black Man being God. These niggaz running around quoting Elijah’s answers fail to take the veil off of Supreme Math and Supreme Alphabet. Math and Alphabet prove themselves in their own clarifications. The whole purpose of any alphabet is to clarify. Nigga you can’t even read without an alphabet!” Be God paused, and took a long pull on the blunt, and then exhaled a current of blessed air. “When you pull the veil off that Supreme Alphabet nigga that shit becomes supremely revelatory. Those lessons from Elijah make for a whole bunch of redundant conversation. Niggaz talkin ‘bout Musa, Jesus, Muhammad, Jebus, Salim, Ariel, Jerusalem, Mecca, Medina, Patmos all these religious motifs. That shit crazy God. Let God be God, cause only God know God. Take for example ‘Justice’ in the Supreme Alphabet: God you can study Justice alone for a fucking lifetime. Ain’t no end to ‘Justice’ Lord. A nigga will run down some shit like ‘Just I Cee Equality’ or ‘Just-Ice’ when you ask him about ‘Justice’. When you’re dealin’ with justice you’re dealing with a social and moral duty as it relates to law. Now just from ‘justice’ alone you get into ‘law’. Law relates to Math and Science connecting  to society, and morality, and ethics and how it bears to all members of a given community. Like I said G, you can literally build on Justice for a lifetime as it relates to knowing the law and all laws of all things. All things exist via a law of some sort. You study justice for three years in this country and they call you a lawyer, you study 120 for three years and you’re arguing with another nigga about Yacob’s hat size.  Fuck outta here!” Be God said handing the blunt to Right Add.

“God, how are you going to explain the ideas like who are the 5 percent, the 10 percent, and the 85 percent without 120?” Right Add added as he began to kiss the blunt for the first time.

“There is no measuring stick by which you can actually say that those numbers are true.”

“No God, generally speaking-generally speaking it’s 5, 10 and 85, is what the lessons are saying.” Right Add said, coughing the diesel smoke from his lungs.

“Generally speaking?”  

The movafuckin’ choke was in the air. Emblem hadn’t even hit the trees but he was in the back seat with a contact. Be God’s eyes had begun to slant, and Right Add Allah’s posture began to sink into the passenger side seat. Be God looked in the rear-view mirror, thinking maybe he had a booger in his nose.  

     “Locking yourself into a paradigm Lord is not what a scientist does. Keepin’ my 120 sharp is a duty and responsibility that I undertook when I first took it under-cap. And yo God, I realize the implications of saying that 120 is not a necessity. Such a claim demands that my own 120 be sharp as a movafucka at all times. Nigga I still run shit through 120” Be God chuckled lightly. “A nigga see certain currents of air automatically in knowledge wisdom cipher. My unconscious mind and my conscious mind have been shaped and dogmatized by it. The thoroughness of my ability to recall a degree or quote it actually assists me nowadays in the process of both qualifying and disqualifying those portions of its corpus which are either provable or falsifiable. I do this with the awareness that 120 can indeed manifest symptoms of religiosity in the user if the user is not careful. The truth is that I have blindly swallowed the shit whole for years. Knowledge wisdom cipher itself implies that we don’t take anything on face value, born universal truth, most niggaz are unaware that they’ve both swallowed it and now regurgitate it with a blind allegiance. Niggaz can’t examine degrees critically. Da God Right Add got somewhat testy. Nigga you was like Aunt Esther in Sanford and Son: Bible in one hand and your purse in the other accept you ain’t have a Bible you had 120. Nigga you did everything short of callin’ me a heathen!”

Da God Right Add choked from the smoke and his laughter.

“Now Cipher Gee. I just can’t see bypassing 120. ‘The God left the lessons on my dresser so I could bloom and blossom’” Right Add found himself nostalgically quoting an old Wu-Tang lyric to drive his point of religiosity home with a gospel tune of sorts.

“Nigga really! Rap music? You locked into 120 based on rap music?” Be God accused Right Add.

“Now Cipher, God. I’m just saying our people need a curriculum to wake them up in the beginning. What would Gods and Earths do without 120?  For real God! What da fuck would niggaz do?” Right Add asked.   

 “Teach Supreme Alphabet and Supreme Math. What Allah gave us is more than enough. The problem is that niggaz don’t know how to build with Math and Alphabet which is precisely why movafuckuz become more preoccupied with regurgitating some shit Elijah said in Knowledge Born Understanding Culture than the reality of them actually being God.  Now, since all these niggaz is on the internet a religious phenomenon has now become directly associated with I-God culture. At one time this was once a culture that stood adamant in its stance as it pertained to how non-religious we were. Nowaday this new religious vibe has exploded into an on-line mushroom cloud of religiosity.  Niggaz tryin’ to figure out Yacob’s hat size nowadays.” Be God said. 

“God you lookin’ at it wrong. These new niggaz is in the information generation and they are privileged to much more information in real-time than we had. This information is traveling at the speed of light God on some ‘real time’ shit.” Right Add responded.

“God that ain’t what I’m saying. Information is cool and I ain’t got no problem with the speed by which data is traveling. I’m trippin off the fact of how the ‘information’ that the blackman is God is associated with religiosity off rip. 120 don’t make no nigga God. A nigga God cause he God. These niggaz think that when you got 120 you are officially God: FDA and NGE certified. FDA because you ate the food and took that religious angle-religion is a helluva drug. Just like I said in the auditorium, niggaz be like Christians with shit, “Are you saved yet?” Be God’s tone was low as the smoke drifted out of his nose, he didn’t rush his sentences and his words were both resolute and resonate.

Be God and Right Add had been tight for years and in the past they disagreed more about money than they did the creed of the Nation of Gods and Earths. Recently Be God’s third eye had been blowing open degrees, maybe it was the fact that he had been smoking more? Whatever it was he was seeing 120 as a general template-a template that shaped thought and maybe even biased one’s perception of reality. After all they were Elijah’s words not his.   He asked himself simple questions like “Why are their four devils and not six, or nine or eleven? Who said Muhammad said murder four?” What makes those words in 120 actual fact?” He didn’t look down on 120, but he did begin to focus more on questioning 120 and its relationship to scientific and religious perceptions. In the midst of this mental exercise he began to develop a laser beam focus on Supreme Alphabet and Supreme Math and place a deep concentrative emphasis on utterly how simple and profound they were.

      “The Goddamned lessons in and of themselves have become worse than the Mystery God. The new question is ‘What is that mystery dogma?’ Young niggaz on-line got this shit all fucked up nowaday.  This on-line shit is bullshit son. What makes Elijah’s words any more powerful than any other movafuckuz? Words is words nigga.  Niggaz slowly turning this culture into a fuckin’ religion.  The psychological harmfulness of the religiosity in 120 is outweighing the social good it once did when Elijah was on his mission to socially reform niggaz.”  When I said that accepting Fard was an unconscious acceptance of such things like the Mothership, Grand Daddy Shabazz, and the 23 scientist who have a meeting in Mecca every 25,000 years to write another history as well as the entire ‘Shabazzian’/ Asiatic myth, I did so in light of the fact that 120 is indirectly inclusive of all that other bullshit Elijah taught. The Father took under cap those portions that were instrumental to him in achieving the level of awareness to realize himself as God. And peep Lord, The Father excluded from our National development as God and Earth those parts of Asiatic theology that seemed rather far-fetched. This logically means that with new information and personal realizations the Father disqualified aspects of what Elijah and Fard taught. Da God saw some of that shit as straight-up ‘Jive’. ‘Jive’, was a modern colloquialism prevalent in the 60’s and 70’s.”

“Colloquialism!?” Right Add repeated Be God. “Where an ex-con come up with a word like “Colloquialism?”

“Nigga I ain’t ignint. I’m sure the Father classified a whole lot of what Elijah and Fard taught as bullshit. Like I said in the auditorium, the Father ain’t take the idea of the Mothership out of the Temple. I’m sure he saw that shit as jive. If a portion of the teaching is jive-what stops the rest of that shit from being jive?”

“So you callin’ the teachings of Elijah ‘jive’ God?” Right Add said.

“Some of that shit is jive indeed!”

“Yo Emblem you want to hit this God?”Right Add said trying to hand the God the blunt. Emblem was unresponsive. He was blown-back off the contact from the smoke alone.

  “120 does however begin a syllogistic line of reasoning which is rooted in Asiatic/Shabazzian ideas. If some aspects of the root are jive then it would seem to reason that aspects of the tree could also be bullshit.” Emblem said, slurring his words obviously affected from the contact.

       “The Father of our Nation took 120 out of Temple Number 7 via his memory and used these lessons as an instrument to convey to black youth the knowledge of themselves. It was this tool of 120 by which he came to the understanding that he was himself God. His personal realization of who he was-was admittedly achieved by way of an Asiatic/Shabazzian religious paradigm both espoused by and copyrighted by Elijah and Fard. Thus If I were to discard  the worst part and preserve the best part of this Asiatic/Shabazzian myth for myself I would dispense with the religious elements and preserve four or five words: ‘The Black Man is God’, which would be the absolute cream understanding in all of 120.”

     “The Father of our Nation gave us Supreme Mathematics, and Supreme Alphabets. The question is: how far can an individual go with Math and Alphabet alone as opposed to being locked into Elijah’s and Fard’s Shabazzian world view? It is my contention that the Father of our Nation gave us two sets of keys that open up a very expansive and an infinitely powerful set of truths.”

“ By merely knowing that ‘A’ is indicative of Allah Who is the Black Man and that HE is the Reality of Allah’s world manifest it begins to free one from the imprisoning mythological Shabazzian paradigm founded by Fard and Elijah. Understanding Self as ‘Allah’ breaks down into an inexhaustible study of the SELF, meaning that One will never complete the study of SELF as SELF has no ending.  ‘Be’ is an existential contemplation which is philosophically reconciled in the moment of every ‘now’ and proven in the study of our collective and individual existence as it both pertains to, and is relegated to the singularity and unity of all consciousness; and even possibly ‘transcendent’ of the modern physics’ view of four dimensional reality with respect to length, width, height, and space/time, found within NGE ideas such as ‘returning to essence’.  Elijah said when you’re dead-you are dead which is contrary to our view of returning to essence. The return to essence implies some sort of conscious continuation.”

    “Born is the perpetuation of existence. Knowledge to Born- knowledge to born is the eternal perpetuity in the cyclic generation of the cipher.”

    “C- is to see in the context of understanding and comprehension. How many subjects do you fully understand or comprehend? Do you comprehend the science and the math of how your smart phone has been made and manufactured? Now cipher, you do not! If you were to understand the complexity of your hand held device it would require a rigorous study in math and science. Such a study would have nothing to do with “Why did we run Yacob and his made devil from the root of civilization over the hot Arabian desert… yada yada yada.” How many sciences and branches of Math do you comprehend in a way that would be considered to have reached a level equivalent to that of a Master?”

    “Divine is Supreme Mathematics, and Supreme Alphabet which are in my view those things among others held as sacred and are of the greatest personal value. ‘Destroy’ is when the virtue of what has been ruled to be right and righteous have been removed from the applications of science and math, and thus the use of math and science is being used in a destructive way to destroy the quality of life of the human family of the Planet Earth instead of a way that is constructive and builds a better quality of life for all the human family. A way that is Divine”

    “Equality is to understand the balance of relationships in a social, mathematical , and Scientific way. Social Equality, particularly as it relates to social justice, and legal concepts and considerations such as equal representation and protection under the law speak to the reality of social equality.”

    “Mathematical Equality relates to the proper applications of functions relative to formula and the balancing of mathematical equations leading to correct solutions within the scope of all branches of mathematics both discovered and undiscovered. The branches of mathematics are infinite.”

     “Scientific Equality is the result of applied mathematics . The true scientist must ask, How it the principle of equality being applied within a given branch of science, e.g., ‘Chemistry’: mix the wrong acids and bases and one could cause a disastrous explosion or release a deadly toxin. Architecture: remove a beam critical to holding up a ceiling and your foundation could be faulty.”

     “Father, is how men establish, maintain and hold families together. The social responsibility that all men assume and the measures they take to strengthen familial bonds and build their communities is indicative of father. How safe and clean are our communities? Such a question and questions like them are the concerns of Father.”

    “God is the Black Man who realizes that there is no mystery God coming to intervene in any of his endeavors or affairs. He understands the highest ideals of math and science and is beyond fool-hearted assumptions of superstition, ‘luck’, fortune, and voodoo like magical spells and developing symbiotic relationships with unfounded doctrines.  He also knows that theology of any sort, regardless if it is Shabazzian Theology or Catholicism that each boast in their own way an unseen ‘being’ and or an odd behavior that is irrelevant in material terms, holding no weight in terms of reality, with the exception of their own subjective reality, in which case a belief system is present and based on a mild or an acute mental disorder premised on irrationality, and illogical actions steeped in the psychiatric malaise of religiosity. That which does ‘hold weight’ are the right judgments and correct actions of said Black Man as they pertain to the standing objective reality.”

     “He or Her are individual pronouns indicating one or more of the characters present in Supreme Alphabet or Supreme Math. He is Allah, He is Father, He is God, He is I-God, He is Justice, He is King, He is Love, Hell, or Right which are all internal emotional or external empirical states and or the possible states he can actually cause. He is Master, He is the foundation of the Cipher ‘in’ and unto Himself, He is Power, He is Self and also Savior, He is the Truth and The Square as the Truth is that the Black Man is God on the Square. He is the Unknown and the Y as both are the genetic symbols pointing to Him. He represents both Zigs in the Zig Zag Zig Equation. Zag is Her. ‘XX’ is a double Unknown, genetically indicative of Her because of Her reflective capacity to Knowledge God as Queen. Wisdom is Her. He and Her both dwell in the Cipher as Cee/Seeing which is comprehensive and ‘I’ which is the Reality of God and Power which is the force generated in the cipher. The cipher revolves to manifest Cee-I-Power Her and Her Power-I-Cee, both of which are respective in their demonstrations of Power as it relates to both He and Her. C-I-Power Her is realizing and acknowledging God’s Power.  Her Power I Cee is an acknowledgement of Her Power.  How the Cipher revolves is contingent upon which of the four right angles of the Square of Truth upon which God is standing at the Square I Master Equality.”

    I-God is enough for me because I am God, and ‘I’ in my Alphabet holds no aspects of Islam, not in the acronymic form nor in the literal sense. Why? Because I’ve studied Islam my entire life and I-God is not Islam. ‘Islam’ means submission, so regardless if one is stating I-Self-Lord and Master, I Sincerely Love Allah’s Mathematics, or I Self Lift Automobiles Masterfully it is indicative of Islam which is a word in Arabic meaning submission. Yes, the highest achievement of Math and Science could indeed be construed as making the physical world submit via science, and that every atom is in a state of submission based on an underlying essential intelligence which is ultimately the collective reality of US which is the Universal Self.  Islam however focuses on a religious mindset. Religion in terms of the five prayers a day, zakat, bearing witness that Muhammad is the Prophet of the Mystery God Allah, and that there is no Mystery God but Allah. Hadj and Ramadan is not what I-God is rocking. These principles were used to civilize the Jahalyl(prior to Islam) Arabs.  These 5 principles that compose the faith of Islam began with Muhammad’s revelation which contradicts the Born degree which states, ‘Islam has no beginning nor ending’. If the born degree is true where is Islam in historical black culture prior to Muhammad of Arabia? The Egyptians didn’t study Islam. The Ethiopians didn’t study Islam, and the Yoruba which is over 11 thousand years old has over 200 deities, which is a far cry from ‘Ash Hadu Allah il la ha il Allah.(I bear witness that there is no God but Allah). Allah who is Ahad or the One God is not connected to Oshun, Ogun or Yemenya. So where is Elijah and Fard getting this idea that Islam is without a beginning?  Stating that Islam has no ‘Beginning’ in the sense of an actual marker is understood by most by way of romanticizing it. Elijah often said that Islam was in the nature of the Black Man. It sounds cool and can be absorbed in that romantic context I suppose, however it fails to take into account that sense 610 A.D. the Arabic word ‘Iqraa’, the first alleged command to the Arab Muhammad  marked the beginning of the Arab Islamic context. We can’t as black people irresponsibly suggest that Islam rest in the nature of the Black Man just because it sounds romantic. What the fuck does the romanticizing of an idea have to do with whether it is an actual fact or not? We are scientist- aren’t we? In the court of law Arabs would have 1502 years worth of documentation substantiating their imperialistic claim to Islam and the Black Man would show up in Judge Judy’s court with a 16 page document called 120, our Savior Has Arrived and Message to the Black Man. Get da fuck outta here!” Be God exhailed.

To Be Continued…