(As told by Tony Grand$)
Being in the Commission!!! is rough sometimes. Being me is complicated. Being a writer, an emcee, a mentor and a neighborhood conglomerate is hard, but that's neither here nor there. All this is a cakewalk compared to the degree of being associated with -
"GRAND$!!! My man!"
- Ron Mexico's "Better Half". If you haven't guessed now -
"GRAND$!!!"
- I'm -
"GRIZZY!!!"
Tony Grand$.
"AYO, TG!!!"
And that man -
"You ignoring me?"
- who seems to have a megaphone for a voicebox today -
"Nigga, I know you hear me!!! PIERZY!!!"
- is a nuttier than an handmade acorn pie for a squirrel's Thanksgiving. What black man you know gives himself the last name Mexico? But what can I say? I'm his right hand man []. For those of you unfamiliar, if you ever come not too far out from the Cali/Zona border between Interstate 40 and 10 you'll find Ron Mexico City. He was originally going to go with "Siteefullanigguzville", but only changed the name because it wouldn't fit on the city seal for the police cars. Indeed. The man is something else. That may just be how he got this far. Being different. I can respect a man who does his thing, righteously even if unorthodox in their methods at times.
"TONY MUTHAFUCKIN GRA-"
"Damn, dude! WHAT?! I'M RIGHT HERE, HOMEY!!!"
"Oh... well, when you put it like that, I think you may want to use your inside voice then," he says to me walking around my office looking at my many literature plaques. I'm not going to say I'm the next Stephen King, but my pen breaks the mightiest of swords if you smell my cologne.
"I was..."
"Nigga please. This is an inside voice," he replies actually louder than when he first toned it down.
"Whatever you say. So what can I do for the man with the keys to the city today?"
"Nothing much," he says calmly while lifting the remote to my plasma on the wall. "Have a look at this." He points the remote to the TV and turns it on. The screen shows live news footage of LAX and a what looks like a mob to me. "Recognize anybody familiar, sir? You remember that broad back in Jersey wah wah wah wahhh waaahhh wah wah wah..."
As I rise out of my chair (and Ron begins to sound like every adult in Peanuts) I do notice a figure I can't mistake for anybody else. Is he serious? It's Fed, alright. A news team is reporting:
This is Kristal Hansburg for Channel 9 KCAL News live at LAX. What appears to be a battle going on between Miamian Federal Ranga and mysteriously freed from prison, ex G-Unit Blood rapper, The Game has now drawn the attention of airline staff, flight passengers, police, Rakim Allah and hundreds of fans who are rushing the airport just to get a glimpse of what some are already calling "lyrical carnage." Apparently The Game is returning a favor of some kind is has already spit an amazing 64 bars. There have been no reports of any injuries during at this time, but we'll keep you posted with the latest as this battle continues.
"Word. A battle at LAX?," I ask myself out loud focusing on my man Fed.
"Battle? Fuck no. Something much more important" he replies changing the channel to Maury. I still can't believe that show is still on... "Remember her?"
Maury - When it comes to now 6 month old Mexavier. Ron, you are NOT the father...
*Wild reaction from the crowd as the girl in question runs off to the backstage.*
Ron - What!!! What!!! I told that bitch! I told that bitch!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!! Nigga, pleeeeease!
BZZZT
"Wait a minute, that's what you wanted to show me? Hold up... Is that why you took last week off? To go on Maury?"
"Well... yeah. Shit, a mayor of my stature can't be associate with that crab ass trick."
"That child doesn't have a father. Doesn't that disturb you at all?" A long pause. Ron intensely stares at me for a second and then...
"Nope."
"That's cold. Look, I'ma gonna slide down to LAX and see what's going on down there, you should-"
"Nonsense, my man," he says grabbing me by the shoulder and leading me out of the office. "Come. I wanna show you something." Walking on the overpass above all the newspaper's workers, I look down and can't help but to ignore Ron for a minute just to admire how far this thing has come over the years. Mad proud. After crossing the overpass into his office he claps and the blinds come up at all of his windows and the city appears in plain view. Gotta admit, it's breaktaking at times. The city is busy as usual and everything seems normal. "You see that shit?"
"What?" I ask approaching the window he's looking out of.
"That shit," he repeats pointing towards a building a few blocks away. I noticed a U-Haul truck and the people moving out of the joint. "Why in the hell are they moving out of my city?"
"Maybe to another place in RMC, man. Relax. It's no big deal," I say walking away from the window.
"Nigga, please," he rasps back. "Look at these numbers, man."
I walk towards the desk a few papers are sitting on and pick them up. It's an emigration chart for the 1Q of the year. "Aight, so 14 percent more people moved out of the city than last quarter. That's nothing. 26 percent more moved in this quarter. Dude, you're coming up on 3.5 million residents. You wilding, my man."
"Maybe, I am, Grands. Maybe. I. Am. Nonetheless, I can tell the people's morale is low. This city needs something. Something big. And damnit, I'm going to give it to them. I'm going to give it to them ALL, nigga. You feel me?"
"Ummm, pause? I guess... but I really should get on down to the airport."
"I GOT IT!" Ron screams raising a finger in the air. "I'm going to throw the biggest hip hop concert this side of the planet! I want everybody. Snoop, 50, Dre, Wu-Tang, Common, Aye Verb, Murs, the list goes on and on. WAIT!!! What about that guy you're cool with from Miami? Goverment Official or something..."
"Federal Ranga," I correct him. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind we could add him to the concert line up."
"Wait... I have an idea. What if we get him and add him to the concert line up?"
"I just said -"
"I'm a genius! My idea. Mwuahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaa!!! I got your morale right here," he boasts grabbing his jewels.
"Yep, your idea. You're a genius," I say slowly sneaking out of the door of his office.
Having finally escaped what was sure to be one of his epic monologues that start out of nowhere, I made it downstairs to go to my car. Along the way I could only think of why the hell there was a battle going on at the airport. Why's Rakim there? How did Game get out of prison? Weird. After finally getting to my car, I jumped in and turned on the TV to the live broadcast of the battle. LAX, here I come. "Hold on, Fed. It's not over yet..."
To be continued...
