13. EGO TRIPPIN’

By J.J. Colagrande

We walked right in. How? How do you think? Move bitch, get out the way, get out the way–Teflon Jones–yo, Teflon–teach me how to Dougie. No one on the court got a swag like you!! Thanks, playurr. Sw-sw-swahgga like you. The Hard Rock Music Lounge mos def was blown up. Girl Talk mashed it up live on stage. Girl. Talk. Live. Three quarters of the ladies in the house were dancing on the stage. I sent Melody Rain away to look around and I walked into the VIP area. Listen. I can play the game. You think I can’t walk into a room and suck its breathe right out? You think I don’t know about swag. Ya kidding me, right? I’ve been around this shit since I was a shorty. You know my poppa was an old school pimp-ass playurr. Like it or not, I got so much of that nigga in me, it don’t just evaporate. In fact, it takes a concentrated effort for me to suppress this ego. Like at the Hard Rock. I had to hit the VIP section or I’d of been molested by people. Even in VIP, I hardly had a sec to take in the room. I barely saw Metro Mix banners on the walls, before a Host grabbed my arm and said someone wanted to meet me. He brought me to a couple of skinny white kids; I could tell they came from Brooklyn–you know how them Brooklyn hipsters look. Anyway they had a few bottles and a crew of honeys dancing. They sat me down and gave me props about walking away from the NBA. They wanted to know how serious I was about making music. Benjamin and Andrew were their names, from MGMT–and they wanted to do a collaborative, kind-a like what Mos Def did with the Black Keys. I was like word–I’m very serious about making music–and then another dude came over–a kid from Chromeo–and he’s all like yo–you know I hollered at you. Who do you think you are? But he was kidding. So we chilled, listening to Girl Talk mash-up the Music Lounge, popped a few bottles, talked about working together and how and when that could become a possibility. I must admit. Making music is my dream. Playing basketball is a dream too, but I always wanted to do both. I’ve recorded with Hurricane Clout before, but this was another level. The attention went to my head. How do I know? A big-ass bouncer came to me, pointing at Melody Rain. She wanted me to come out of the VIP area. Know what I did? I shooed her away with my hand. Fuck it. One of the hardest things I have to deal with is coming to terms with the realization that at times I could be a mirrored reflection of the person I least want to represent, my asshole father.

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