I’d appreciate YOUR input. I offer proof that a virtually unknown artist/writer drawing from life experience can hold their own. I don’t have access to any studio/beats/even a recording device, but I had to get this out. I have at least two albums worth of material. (If you do pass on me, hey, have a good night and please don’t steal my lyrics. Think of this as an interactive hip-hop experience. Like a global sing-along; it only does what its supposed to do if you sing it too. Dig…

The KZ Concepts blog:
http://kzconcepts.wordpress.com

Everybody have a good weekend

“I blame the economy!”

*rolls eyes*

I always flinch when people reference intangible scapegoat “the economy” when searching for a place to lay blame for all of life’s problems. They find themselves unable to accurately link the cause of their despair back to a single politician or corporation, so they lick their wounds and moan about how “Wall Street” has screwed them. They have screwed you…but at least know who you’re angry at.)

Saying that our economy and job markets have taken a hit is the understatement of the decade. Times are tough. Ask somebody if they are broke; some won’t admit it, others will be brutally honest. There used to be times when I would grow bored with my 9-5 job, quit, and have three new prospects to choose from within the week. People just aren’t hiring or paying like they once were. We have become a nation of haves, have-nots, and barely-still-haves.

But let’s be optimistic; no matter how grim or hopeless things may seem, opportunity is still out there. You might have to grind until your hair turns gray, but eventually you’ll succeed at what you’re good at. The mantra “Never give up on your dreams” is more important now than ever before. Its time to side-step that lazy bitch, the recession. Slow down our income? Cost us jobs?

No way, man. We have things to do and moves to make. Whether we build our empires one shift, 16 bars, or one piece at a time; we’re prepared to ride out this storm. Human beings, baby! We’re resilient. Maybe…  

Stay In!

Bored on a Friday night? Got $37 to your name? Good. Stay the hell out of the club! This goes for movies/bars/dinners out, too. Even if you’re super-social and have a hard time sitting still, try just staying home some nights. Remind yourself of life’s simple pleasures. Catch up on housework. When you get bored with TV in the first hour, play video games. If that gets old, paint something. Write a song; even if it is about how broke and bored you are. You never know; it might be hit!

You can go back to the club when the DJ starts giving you spins.

Shed Vices:

Health issues aside, if you smoke cigarettes/roll blunts/drink daily, this would be a great time to stop.

*lights menthol*

While these habits do serve as a temporary escape from a grim existence, they all cause a significant financial drain.

Try quitting cold turkey. A full day without it will put you in a good position on quitting; you’ll be proud of your streak and won’t want to break it. You’ll be annoyed and grouchy for two days tops.   

If you do keep smoking, smoke them in shorts (light/extinguish/relight.) You don’t need a full 100 every time, and eventually you’ll realize, “These taste like shit; why am I even bothering with this?” Exercise helps, too. As time goes on and you see progress, the thought of smoking again will seem counter-productive.

 Stay Out Of Jail!

Don’t do anything drastic that can result in your incarceration. You used to be able to pay your debt to society with your time alone. Now, you can also expect to pay a bail bondsman/fines/fees/court costs/restitution/anger management/domestic violence/drug & alcohol treatment/probation. For what, stealing a few dime bags? Robbing a gas station?

Your sitting in jail only hurts your family, and your chances of getting ahead.

Find a legal hustle and do a lot of it. 

Cutting Corners:

It is possible to maintain your current comfort level, but you may have to downgrade standards on a few basics. If a friend tells you he prefers the taste of his store brand soda to a Pepsi or Coke, he’s probably lying; but only to conceal his desire to sock away money. Nobody prefers a “Mountain Explosion” to a cold Mountain Dew, but depending on where you shop, the price difference can be staggering. Small sacrifices like this can have a big impact on your bottom line.

Broke folks are always associated with Ramen noodles, too. These are cheap, and can be delicious…in moderation. Thinking back to the weak/fatigued feeling of having them 3 times a day, I caution you to have them with meat, veggies, or gravy. They make a quick snack or a cheap base for a meal, but cannot sustain life alone.

No matter how poor we get, resorting to substituting toilet paper with newspaper is never acceptable; it is savage. If you have to panhandle to keep it in stock, do it (or do like my grandma did, and swipe a roll from every public restroom you visit.)

While we’re on the topic of basic essentials, soap is never optional. Even if seems like you have nothing else to offer the world, at least you’ll feel good about yourself and emit a fresh scent; priceless in most situations.

Avoid the Gucci cycle:

If you’re like me, the things you own are not necessarily the “best” ones, but the right ones. This is as true for furniture and clothing as it is for watches and cars. If you’re a slave to labels, expect your clothing budget not to go as far. If you wear one Armani t-shirt instead of ten Fruit of the Looms, realize you’ll be wearing it more frequently; it is going to get raggedy faster. Go low-tech on the basics (t-shirts, etc.) and save your money for the right jacket or shoes.

Stick to neutral colors, too. Those green and orange Nikes are dope, but they don’t match a damn thing in your wardrobe.

Pets:

Even if you have one goldfish in a bowl on your dresser, you’ve got mouths to feed. Pets can never go hungry due to our inability to get money. If it comes down to buying one joint or a bag of cheap-ass dog food, do the right thing. If the dog hasn’t up and left your broke ass yet, he is your best friend; treat him right.  

Summary:

Don’t let the media’s unemployment numbers/hiring freezes/past let-downs discourage you. It doesn’t matter if you’re rapping, producing, writing, making art, cashiering at Wal-Mart, or delivering pizzas; do the very best you can, and do it many times.

Save every cent as if Social Security won’t be there. Submit your work to as many people as possible. Stay positive no matter what you’re up against. Things can only get better.

-KZ

 @KZHighSociety/2011   

What better way to do that than bring out “The Freestyle King?” My plan was to get local clubs to bring Lil Flip to Akron. The guy is known to wear a million in ice; it doesn’t get much shinier than that. As different clubs played broke and preoccupied, I felt bad that I couldn’t deliver on the shows.

Flip had already been kind enough to handle the matter personally (quotes and contact info,) rather than just ignoring my tweet or letting the label handle it. He was ready to fly in and rock Akron U, but no bar or club in town wanted to pay his (actually quite reasonable) quote. I’m no promoter; just a guy determined to make a show happen in my area. To hell with driving an hour to Cleveland for good shows. I admired Flip and wanted to meet him.

When the most prominent club in Akron finally hit me with a “maybe in a few months,” I braced myself for the possibility that there would not be a show after all. The people of Akron are tough; they’ve rebounded since. But in my mind, I still had to make it right with Flip.

I went to what I do know; custom, hand-stippled royalty art (KZ High Society.) I have customized everything from boxes/jars/shoes to guns/jewelry/electronics. For Flip Gate$, I had to customize something personal. Then it hit me: a bottle of Lucky Nites!

I know a local bar owner, so I figured pulling a bottle would be simple. We hit up the wholesaler, order one, done deal. Turns out, you can only currently get it in six states; Ohio not being one of them. I was sure I’d seen Lucky Nites in stores in southwest Florida before, so I called my sister there. She checked liquor stores in Lee County (Ft. Myers/Cape Coral.) Being a cool sister, she found it online and ordered it. The bottle shipped from New Jersey to Akron.

I expected it to come USPS, so when I ran an errand that morning and passed a UPS truck on the block, I thought little of it. When I got home, there was no “Hey dickhead, we missed you” note from UPS. (It wasn’t until later that I realized that there HAD been a note; a strong breeze had taken it off the door.) I tracked the package and called UPS; time to find out what Brown could do for me. Rather than risk a re-deliver (and possible “return to sender” the next Monday, I told them to hold the package, and I would pick it up at UPS in Akron on Monday.

It was only Friday, so I was bummed. As I sat online, I saw a UPS truck drive down my street again, moving very fast. “Son of a bitch!” I called UPS again. I told the woman on the line that I had just spotted the driver, and that my bottle was likely still in the neighborhood. She took my info and contacted the driver. She called me back anonymous on the caller ID, telling me that a redelivery would occur within the next hour. It did. The driver showed up with a foam peanut/bubble-wrapped bottle of Lucky Nites.

Everyone I know told me to drink it, but I resisted. Tonight, I decided to skip the art studio and get some writing done. After a short conversation with the good people at Lucky Nites, I decided that I couldn’t sing the praises of this drink if I hadn’t tried it.

Granted, it would have been far more impressive for Flip to receive a sealed bottle completely customized, but I figured he would rather have another fan/drinker try his product. So I did; and I documented the entire 3-night consumption like a cell extraction.

When I first pulled the cork, my nose immediately burned; no doubt due the vodka content. I poured my first glass and added ice. At this point, the liqueur was still very fragrant. Within minutes, the ice had mellowed it out a bit. As I wrote and sipped my Lucky, I did my best to savor every drop. I enjoyed the burn throughout my sinus.

The pineapple was different, and the amaretto hinted at being there, rather than overpowering. By the end of my first glass, I was comfortably buzzed. I poured another. Once I sipped it down a bit, I decided to try it out as a mixer. I added more ice, and topped it off with (get this) Henry Weinhard’s Black Cherry Cream gourmet soda.

The crisp cherry taste only added to an already exotic, easy-to-sip drink. I was borderline drunk after two 8-oz. glasses. I decided to re-cork the bottle and have dinner. The next two nights were the same thing. I waited until evening, poured up Lucky Nites, and caught up on my writing. I don’t drink very much these days; I got most of it out of my system during my 20′s.

Still, I see it as good form to always keep a bottle or two in the house. I intend to reorder Lucky Nites, and will encourage guests to give it a try. I give Lucky Nites Golden Liqueur an official KZ Cosign; Seal of Approval.

Once the drinking was done, I washed and dried the bottle, taking special care to leave the factory labels intact.  I began applying base coat panels and engraving to the bottle.

As it was the smallest surface, I started by illustrating the cork with Flip (in a 4-row chain,) and two female fans; one of them calling him Flyboy.  I worked off a master list of Lil Flip details, incorporating one after another.

The mouth/sides/edges/bottom all have different clues on them. I hand-illustrated the blank panels with a number of scenarios; highlights from Flip’s career.

With everything now etched and inked, I flooded the bottle’s exterior with multiple glossy coats. This sealed in all the ink. It also created “phantom engraving.”

At a glance, the engraved details seem vague. Press them with your thumb, and details appear. My final act was to fill it with “purple drank,” and put a second cork down inside the neck to contain it. The inner workings have been double sealed to make it 100% leak-proof.

To Flip: I hope you enjoy your piece of KZHS art. Your life story is told on this bottle. There are over 70 details/dates/names/CD titles/scenarios worked in. The engraved panels have “phantom engraving.” Press/rub them with your thumb to make details appear. Enjoy.

Special thanks to Lucky Nites and Cosign Magazine for all the support.

-KZ (@KZHighSociety) KZ Concepts/2011

]]> http://kzconcepts.wordpress.com/2011/09/08/kz-on-lucky-nites/feed/ 0 kzconcepts LN KZHS Stuff LN Mouth LN Purp Front LN back start LN AK LN Profile Pic LN Progress LN Sucka Free color LN Header LN Fin Top LN drink 1 LN Neck LN Cherry LN Neck 2 kz logo LN cork LN bottom LN Way Ball Outline LN Promo LN Smoke Promo LN Purp Side http://kzconcepts.wordpress.com/2011/08/19/i-get-money-lyrics/ http://kzconcepts.wordpress.com/2011/08/19/i-get-money-lyrics/#comments Fri, 19 Aug 2011 05:23:06 +0000 kzconcepts http://kzconcepts.wordpress.com/?p=1661 ]]> “You either have money, or you’re after it; there is no third option.”

Lyrics by KZ (@KZHighSociety)

I wake up earlier than the sun

Throughout the day I get more done

Than an old Iraqi soldier’s gun

(I GET MONEY.)

I’ve been after paper since my birth

My roll has grown in length and girth

Trump admires my net worth

Bitch (I GET MONEY.)

With CEOs I’m keeping stride,

Salary caps I don’t abide

If you’re broke then step aside

Cause (I GET MONEY.)

I’m Warren Buffet in a sweatshirt

All this cash makes my pockets hurt

The weed I get is never dirt

Cause (I GET MONEY.)

More influential than the Coast Guard

Buying houses on my Black Card

Blowing cash like a fucking retard

Cause (I GET MONEY.)

I don’t be out in theHamptons

Like Martha Stewart going camping

But in the hood a local champion

(I GET MONEY.)

When Japan gets hit with a tsunami

Instead of buying another Bugatti,

I flood Japan like teriyaki

(I GIVE MONEY.)

I make doctors pull their pay stubs out

To let them know I have more clout

Steve Forbes knows what I’m talking about

Cause (I GET MONEY.)

My watch makes all the stick-up kids drool

Dumb fucks, you should have stayed in school

Chose to face my carbon fiber tool

But (I KEEP MONEY.)

I had a lot to do today

Countries trade on things I say

Living life the American way

(I GET MONEY.)

(KZ Concepts/2011 All Rights Reserved.

 http://kzconcepts.com kzconcepts@yahoo.com

http://kzconcepts.wordpress.com/2010/09/02/the-2010-hip-hop-state-of-affairs/

remains the most viewed post on my site, http://www.kzconcepts.com.

Thank you. 

The streets asked for it; consider it delivered…

“The 2011 Hip-HopState of Affairs”

By: KZ (@KZHighSociety)

My fellow hip-hop heads,

A year has passed since I last took a good look at the hip-hop landscape and gave some suggestions. The field is overgrown; overrun by snakes, weeds, rats, and droppings. It’s time to rip away the ground cover; far too many roaches and half-ass rappers run around acting like they matter more to the game than they actually do. Hip-hop is evolving faster than ever before. It graduates new classes and labels monthly. Hot new dances that accompany current singles get outdated fast, along with certain words associated with them (like trill, swag, or anything black and yellow. If you know someone who still “dougies,” kick them square in the pelvis for me; hard.)

If you get mentioned on this list, I encourage you to really think about what I’m saying. I am not your ‘yes-men.’ I’m an unbiased observer and diehard hip-hop fan. A few of you follow me on Twitter. I appreciate that, but forewarning, anybody can get it. If you’re a good rapper, you’ll hear exactly what it is you’re doing that works; respect. If you’re not a good rapper, expect to be told why. I won’t blindly hate on anybody (as I am no hater,) but you WILL get honest criticism. You can choose to accept what I say, thank me, explain yourself, ignore me, or get yourself killed trying to come after me (let’s not bother with the latter; this is entertainment.)  Here goes:

Jay-Z:

I put Jay at the top of the list because he has long been one of the best rappers out. Fame doesn’t mean shit here, so I rated Jay highest due to his success in overall business. From special edition Audemars Piguet watches (that you can’t get,) to his spot on the Forbes list, Shawn Carter walks a higher path (extra points for remaining married to Beyonce.) No matter what you’re doing, any Jay-Z record you put on will inspire you to do the very best you can at it. Jay’s words/actions/imagery often fuel the Illuminati rumors. He either is (more than likely,) or he likes to keep people wondering if he is; I honestly don’t care. If secret societies choose to spend ungodly amounts of money to amass imperial beats, the coldest of lyrics, and a ”running shit” attitude in Baseline simultaneously, I say do more of it. Hat tip, Jay; I admire you.

Eminem:

Em has solidified his place in hip-hop history forever. He’s braved unfriendly crowds and protesting soccer-moms in the past to prove beyond a doubt that he could rip a mic as well as (or better than) his black counterparts. Since taking time off and “Relapse,” I just can’t find his beat/lyric combos as intense and fun as they once were. Does anybody else miss the old, hungry Eminem? Think Rock Bottom. Em now singing with Rhianna bores me. They should have teamed up for “Murder Murder 2011.” I respect you though, Mr. Mathers.   

Lil Wayne:

Don’t call him Lil Wayne anymore; he officially became Weezy F Baby once he caught that last gun charge. Sometime during the Riker’s Island days, he became Lil Tunechi (who the hell knows.) Wayne has clever, creative bars at times, but some of the collabos insist upon themselves. When I tweet the most profound thing ever and get one RT, and Weezy can tweet “Uhh” or a period and get 100+? Time to re-evaluate, folks. Rebirth was a messy abortion (with the exception of “Drop The World.”) Weezy, please man, stop with the skinny jeans and skater shoes. You want to reinvent? Try a suit. I understand you wanted to try your hand at rock music; mission accomplished. Now can you please go back to laying bars with the intricacy of “6’7” or better? I’m bored.

Diddy: 

I’ve given Diddy a hard time in the past, but come on, that Diddy Dirty Money “Coming Home” joint was hot. That CD was like all his others; scrap iron with some precious gems embedded. @iamdiddy: No matter how loud you shouted at us on Twitter, you just didn’t generate the excitement @kanyewest did when #MBDTF dropped. B+ effort. 

Wiz Khalifa:

I had high hopes for Wiz Khalifa. Like most people, I heard “Black and Yellow” first.  After that, no other song he put out could really measure up. One-hit wonders are not bad, they just peak too fast. When I first heard “Roll Up,” I was expecting a good weed anthem. Instead, I heard a pothead Nelly sound-alike singing love songs; ugh. Wiz has time to redeem himself; he’ll be eating forever off that Super Bowl weekend if he budgets correctly. It is very cool to see big artist vocally supporting the 420 movement, but just loving weed isn’t enough of a personality. Surprise us.     

Drake:

I got cheated into liking Drake. I first started hearing his music and name when Weezy finally got the diamonds out of his mouth and reported to prison. The man had a smooth-enough voice and sounded almost exactly likeWayne to me. I took him as a fill-in while Weezy was out of action. When Weezy got released, POW! This cat wants to stick around for a career of his own. I don’t care for the eyebrows and the fuck jams (I’m not supposed to; they’re not for me,) but his CD was solid, his beats are ok, and his flow is fun to pay attention to. Drake kind of looks like a good neighborhood kid from St. Paul, MN. He’s really gotta earn some form of street cred fast, though; you can’t buy it or borrow it from other rappers. Pass, but I’m keeping an eye on you.

U.S.D.A:

Trap music isn’t dead; it lives in my playlist. The United Streets Dopeboyz of America sit right on the top of that list. We automatically associate “8732” with Young Jeezy, but Slick Pulla and Blood Raw are still working Twitter and quietly churning out classics on their own. Trap music gets a bad rap/its own category due to the subject matter; running kilos of blow up and down I-95. While it can get tiresome listening to ‘drug sale tales’ after a while, if you’ve been there, you can really relate. Not just the dope part, but the stressful/minute-to-minute/constant struggle way of life that can be felt in the bars. Guys, I encourage you to drop a 17-20 track banger for the streets soon (cough…Recession 2…) We are not hearing Young Jeezy’s name like we used to. Oh, and don’t be afraid to bring in other rappers/labels for guest spots (T.I, Rozay, Big Boi,Luda, I-20, Rich Boy; sky’s the limit.)

Chris Brown:

Ain’t shit. He only made this list because he bears mention (unfortunately not in good light.) While I refuse to be another blogger who mindlessly picks on Breezy for his actions and outbursts, “Chris, you’re playing yourself.” You should have stuck to making fuck jams for the ladies. “Look At Me Now” showcased your limited vocab and subject matter; “I make more money than my fans and blow it on unnecessary window-dressing (yellow bottles.”) Very original. The beat on that song was annoying, too. It sounded like Adderalled-up robots farting in metal bathtubs. Busta Rhymes methodically murdered his verse (as always,) and Weezy administered the verbal head-shot. Thank God for them, huh? They could have replaced you with any other ‘Top 10’ rapper and had a diamond. Keep acting like you are NOT the problem. You are so blessed to be in your position in life; but it seems like you feel a bit entitled. We lose respect for you every time we see you hit a girl or break windows when an interview isn’t filled with ‘gimme’ questions. You’re a good singer and dancer, but you have anger issues that your people tend to ignore. Seek real therapy, not the publicity kind. Oh, and as Mike Epps famously quipped on T.I’s “King” CD, “Bitch, your head looks like a dirty tennis ball now.” Fix your hair, homie. Fail; and that is based 97% on your crybaby attitude, 3% rhyming skill.

Birdman:

Weezy’s daddy Birdman has become “all image no substance.” He occasionally gets in a good verse on a DJ Khaled/Rick Ross team-up, but I don’t think I could sit through an entire Birdman CD; like ever. Mannie Fresh and Weezy always made it better; The “Number One Stunna” has yet to stand alone. To remind the public that he has money, Birdman frequently places huge bets on sporting events and boasts about it; tactless. It is cool that you can seemingly afford such bets ($4 mil on a Mayweather fight/a mil on the Packers in the Super Bowl/pissing away $2 million on the Heat in the Finals) but it lacks class. Oh, and no more simply SAYING you’ve placed a big bet. From now on, you have to post video of yourself physically paying out. Otherwise, I just don’t believe you. Now eating heartily off future earnings of the YMCMB class, Birdman will remain wealthy enough to live like a hood-rich tycoon for the rest of his days. Props, I guess?      

Rick Ross:

Boss. With the real “Freeway” Rick Ross out of prison and taking to Twitter, the former corrections officer knew he wouldn’t win the fight for that name, so he became Ricky Rozay (which would be like me changing my name to Charlie Hennessy; not very clever.) Either way, the public largely overlooked his usurped past and accepted Ross as a rap music superstar. Nobody can deny that Rick’s lyrics are great (although some are said to be ghostwritten.) He has good delivery and very strong work ethic. Besides churning out solid CDs, Rick has already done more mixtapes and collaborations than many rappers do in a career. Busta Rhymes long held the title of ‘hardest working man in hip-hop’ (in my book,) but this year, Rozay gets the nod. He moves a LOT for a guy his size. With the creation of MMG, Ross could sit back and let the young bucks bring in his paper; yet he keeps working hard (that’s called “grind.”) The downside: Rick spends far too much time and money with Johnny Dang. The jewelry is getting beyond ridiculous (think Mr. T.)

Pill:

Atlanta’s Pill is a funny dude. He frequently tweets late at night about all the people he and his crew have pushed down in any given place. As a rapper, Pill is solid. I think MMG acquired a real asset by signing him. He has a bright future ahead of him, as long as he doesn’t blindly grind along with everything Ross is dictating. Remain a person; don’t become corporate property. I’m still hoping for a “Pill Mill” CD in the future.

Fat Joe:

Joey Crack hasn’t made any real music of note lately. He seems content with being a third-or-forth stringer on DJ Khaled tracks. I do think he’s one good release away from being right back on it. Congrats on the weight loss. Cut back the uncomfortable Spanish conversation skits and use the type of beats one would hear playing inside a king’s lair. “I’d rather drop shells and let off shots until my Glock melts.” BRILLIANT! I still enjoy “DonCartagena/Me, Myself, and I.” #KeepGoin   

DJ Khaled:

This well-manicured hype man has the benefit of rich, popular friends who make hit records. I’ve played holes in two copies of the “We The Best” CD, but probably due to the beats it contains and all the incredible guest spots; not so much for Khaled. One other thing; there is more to life than driving a nice car and showing off in Miami. “Movie.” Get substance. You tried to make another ‘hood anthem’ with “Welcome to my Hood,” but despite all the great guests, it fell short again (you can’t recapture the magic that was “I’m So Hood.) Try telling a story/painting a picture rather than just shouting a hook.

Wale:

Yawn. Sorry man, but you’re background noise to me. Nothing personal, I just don’t see much originality here. I respect your MMG contract, but what do you do that really stands out? I don’t mean it to be rude; please tell me. You look like a young, clean-cut Trick Daddy, but lack the distinct voice. You’re a good rapper, but tell the public, what sets you apart/why should we buy your CD? (And don’t just say being from D.C.) #RespectToDC I understand she shits diamonds right now, but the Gaga joint impacted your image a little; redeem on the next one. 

Roscoe Dash:

Bro, what is there about you that you’d like us to know? Everything about you screams “Soulja Boy cover band,” but you shave your views/thoughts into the side of your head. I can’t quite tell if that is cutting-edge promotion or downright lame. My “college student turned baller” alarm is sounding. You’ve got to understand, I grew up on N.W.A/Eazy/Pac/Big/Spice 1/Ice-T. This shit seems just a bit too polished/manufactured. You do however, get extra credit for the speed of your flow.

Waka Flocka Flame:

Flakaveli my ass. You don’t fill 2Pac’s shoes just because there is a vacancy. Just getting shot at doesn’t make you a G; and that goes for everyone. You’re a two-face (like from Seinfeld.) At times, you look like a killer out of the countriest part of Georgia. Other times, you look like a community college marketing major. I give you credit for “No Hands,” because the music flowed through people; that hook made everybody want to stick their Glocks out the car window and squeeze. Oh, and shame on you for getting an entire generation of kids to pretend to be seasoned Moscato connoisseurs. Drinking Moscato in public is NOT gangster.   

Big Sean:

You’ve got to be kidding me. This is what passes for a rapper these days? This is what the streets hang their hopes on? You damn kids; time for me to pic up a mic and show you how it’s done. I’ve known so many dime-a-dozen cats like you throughout the years. You get advanced a few chains and suddenly you’re a somebody? Please. There is nothing inventive about your bland persona or dull monotone. This is surely the CD that douchebag college freshmen will be eagerly loading their iPods with this year; the Soulja Boy from ‘09/ Save your money. Don’t buy a Lambo or a mansion; save your money. Trust me, bro.

Slaughterhouse:

Thinking back to Scary Movie/Life/Bad Meets Evil/the GTA soundtrack, Royce Da 5’9” has always been a good lyricist. I also think he missed a critical window in time when Em first blew up, and as a result, stayed further underground than he deserved. With empty seats still at the table, it was nice to see Eminem bring Royce back into the fold; those guys produce gold together. This group has some good members, but they seem hastily/awkwardly packaged together; like Shady decided to save some money and get a group rate. They suffer the fate of Bad Boy’s “Da Band;” some real talent dragged down by less-ambitions “band members.” Joe Budden is a solid rapper, too; what happened? Both names should be household, not just ghetto household (like mine.) Royce, team up with a certified superstar (besides or in addition to Em, and you’ll be shouting me out, setting the carpets on fire on “106 & Park.” You once called my #KZHS custom Jordans“over the top.” I’m not sure if you meant it to be insulting, but it came off that way. I’m still a fan. Good luck.

Yelawolf:

The streets had a brief hard-on for Yela since that BET Cypher; Shady Records signed him like, “We don’t need him, but we don’t wanna face him later, either; so sign him.” Combine Vanilla Ice’s whiteness with Kid Rock’s white trash style, and Travis Barker’s appearance. Have it spit southern Bone Thugs-type verses, while doing a nasal Twista impression. Pass. It’s not that you’re not good; it’s just that there is so much out there, your playlist tends to get stale. 

Soulja Boy:

Soulja Boy is still around. He plays on Twitter and Ustream, bragging about how rich he is and promoting his flunkies. Yawn. Great; now one-dimensional has officially been done. Hip-hop’s ultimate one-hit-wonder (who decided to stick around and try to keep going instead of dropping off for 10 years and doing a reality show.) Not hating Soulja; (gotta respect the earning power, especially considering the actual product. *Homer Simpson voice* Rubes! So many rubes!”) Like every other rapper, not everything you do turns to gold (your dro’d-out friends will tell you anything to keep that gravy train going.) Your music is for chubby hoodrats and high-school-aged dick-riders with no ambition of their own. Tighten up and get serious. Land a role in a high-profile gangster flick to strenghten rep.   

Ludacris

I haven’t heard much from Luda lately, but between the Magnum Live Large tour and Summer Jam, hip-hop’s most charismatic cat is staying busy. Chris, please man…give us a record full of imperial beats and furious LudaFlow. The people still want to hear you/Playaz Circle/I-20 tear shit up. A “Screwed Up” remix/follow-up with Lil Flip would be aces, too. The fuck jam collabos play out quickly; and for God’s sake man, get at me about those LudaComics!

Playaz Circle:

Tity Boi must have finally realized that his name had limited commercial appeal/marketability. Call him 2chainz now; he’s constantly doing shows. Where’s Dolla Boy at? I have to be honest, I knew the “Supply & Demand” CD word-for-word before I even knew Dolla’s name; rebrand & promote! Guys, the streets want another. Flight 360: The Takeoff was not promoted heavily enough; buy less Gucci duffel bags and spend it at another ad agency. Tit, I still have a bent, purple-liquid filled piece of bottle art sitting in my studio, ready to ship you: 2 Chainz Old Fashioned Codeine; “For Your General Health.” Just DM me a shipping address.

The Game

I’m a big fan of The Game; always have been. We’re all currently waiting for the RED CD to drop (08/23/11?) Until it does, Game seems to enjoy Twitter and periodically releasing singles on iTunes (see “Purp & Patron.”) Game, if you read this, please let me know if you received your custom piece. The red #KZHS Sweetleaf; I just wanna be sure it made it to you.) Thumbs up.

Lil Flip:

No matter what anyone says, Flip IS the Freestyle King. This man can spit quality for 14 minutes straight off the top of his head. Let’s be clear: Weezy doesn’t freestyle all that much anymore, and we’ve all seen the YouTube video of him choking when it came time to freestyle on camera. Unless Eminem goes back to his Rap Olympics automatic freestyle mode for 30 minutes, Flip gets to keep his crown. (Flip, I can’t find Lucky Nites here in northeast Ohio, so I’m working to get a bottle delivered from Florida. You have an art masterpiece coming, but these things take time.)

Chamillionaire:

The Mixtape Messiah’s agent needs to expand his exposure. When I seek out Texas hip-hop online, Cham is generally on that list. I was embarrassed when I saw you host “Pimp My Ride,” and the kid at the door didn’t know who you were. You should be doing higher-profile, farther-reaching media and collabos. You have real talent, but only Chamillionaire fans appreciate it. You deserve to be huge, not just big in Houston.

T.I:

Tip had a brief, highly-anticipated return to society this year. Not long after his release, he was right back on the shelf for violating parole on a pill charge. I’ve got nothing but respect for Tip, but I just don’t feel “No Mercy” was quite the soundtrack “Paper Trail” was. Keep your head up, Tip; I hope you stay out this time. With your full attention, I have faith that your next CD will be amazing. When Pac died, his spirit landed in Camouflage; when he got killed, it landed in Tip. (RIP Camo)

Nas:

Twitter is abuzz right now with the release of the Nas “Nasty” joint. It is the gritty, lyrically-sharp fare we expect from Nas. The beat however, almost gives me a panic attack. If he was going for “deep, grimey QB,” he hit it (I would have preferred some highs/synths/a girl singing a hook.) You’re a legend; fuck those haters who still wage someone else’s 10-year-old war with you. I’d like to hear you team up with Rozay/Kanye/even Jay. Welcome back.

Cyhi Da Prynce:

Just before Kanye released “MBDTF,” I got a magazine assignment to write a piece about Cyhi. I @’ed him on Twitter, told him I had some free publicity to give him, and wondered if he had any input. He quickly sent me his e-mail address. When I filled him in on the specifics, he must have felt it was beneath him and didn’t respond again. I went on to write “Cyhi Goes Sky-High” without him. You’re welcome. Cyhi solidified his place in hip-hop with the clever wordplay he exhibited on both “MBDTF” and his mix tapes. He’s creative enough to be a G.O.O.D artist, but I think we’re all hoping for a full-length/guest-filled label release soon. Respect.

Nicki Minaj:

To settle the debate once and for all, yes, Nicki IS a younger/modernized version of Lil Kim (either start hating on me right here or agree and move on.) Kim has gotten too old to be a sex icon; she is. (You shouldn’t still be doing P-drop posters at 40.) Don’t be mad at Lil Wayne for recognizing the void in the market and signing her. She had no class for taking a swipe at Kim, and Kim seemed pathetic to even participate. I don’t really enjoy Nicki’s music, as I didn’t really care for Kim’s music. She has the same bouncy “Missy” feel/intentionally weird/innuendo/dull beats that I found super duper boring during the 1990’s. Her body and star power are her saving graces. Overrated; sorry babe.   

Kanye West:

Kanye; I had to list him way at the bottom because if I mentioned him first, he wouldn’t have finished the article. Mr. West, you are one of the greatest lyricists/beat makers/samplers/personalities to ever bless the rap game with your participation. I’ll stop there; we wouldn’t want you getting big-headed/gassed up/arrogant (you see how poorly it has worked out for @KingJames.) Quit acting so damn unobtainable; you are just a person on a planet with 7 billion other people just like you. I have a go-to Kanye track for any mood/occasion. I’m a huge fan, but I could do without the attitude.  

3-6 Mafia:

Still doing their thing. Adored by drug users everywhere, the guys have taken to working Twitter. Juicy J can be a tad obnoxious at times, but his Ustream broadcasts are fun. DJ Paul seems eager to give fans props and feedback on art/music. #Salute  

Lupe Fiasco:

This firebrand has been bucking trends and making shocking statements (“Obama is the biggest terrorist in America” comes to mind.) Careful B, the hip-hop police have Homeland Security resources now. Every generation has a rebel that gets whacked way too young; an instigator. They got James Dean/Bob Marley/Eazy E/2Pac; you seem to share their spirit. I’m shocked they never went after Dead Prez. Just watch what you say, please. Let another hothead loudmouth face the government assassins. Respect.  

Summary:

As you can probably tell, I am cynical, old-school, and leery of new acts trying to sneak into the A-list. If you’re new but not humble, I won’t even bless you with a listen. New rule: you have to have at least three (3) platinum-selling CDs out to compare yourself to a legend, call yourself “the greatest” of anything, or use the title “King” (unless describing what T.I. is to the South, or what Flip is to freestyles.)

-KZ

KZ Concepts/2011/#AllRightsReserved

“I’ll kill ANYTHING in two paragraphs.”

#KZHS brand royalty Art/Fashion:

http://twitpic.com/photos/KZHighSociety

KZ/Email: KZConcepts@Yahoo.Com

KZ/Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/kzhighsociety

KZ/Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kzconcepts

KZ/Artbreak: http://www.artbreak.com/kzconcepts/works

http://kzconcepts.wordpress.com/2010/02/16/just-wow-full-book-free/

Page 17 of “Just…Wow.”

“Cheap Shot: It’s bad enough to target women and children for assassination; but the scenario can get even more offensive. Here, our hitman has slipped a box of TNT in with the kids’ gifts on Christmas morning. He even had the gall to sign Grandma’s name to it. Dad is oblivious, and mom realizes (too late) that something’s amiss.”

 Here is a clip is from Robot Chicken’s “Dear Consumer” episode:

http://twitpic.com/55qr8z

See the similarity? They decided to use hand grenades inside their gifts instead of TNT, but the influence is clear.

To Seth Green, the Robot Chicken team, and Adult Swim:  

“I’m flattered fellas; keep up the great work!”

-KZ

http://twitpic.com/photos/KZHighSociety

The “KZ High Society” Brand

(“I didn’t like my hand in life, so I’m drawing new cards.”)

For 15 years, I was a manager in retail;

I got in a gunfight, now I can’t stand dealing with people.

I’m trying to win like Keno, decided art would be my sequel;

Now I draw more fucking playing cards than dealers in casinos.

My brand is “KZ HIGH SOCIETY,” and I’m gaining notoriety;

Self-promotion on the low, cause running ads requires bribery.

Every week I fill my TwitPic, with custom art that you can get;

From weed jars and custom cars, to the codeine bottle I did for  Tit.

Got the art world bracing, for the royalty art invasion;

Their minds race in anticipation of a glance at my next creation. 

My work is hand-stippled, and as appealing as female nipples;

Initial investment tripled, I tote guns like Dale Gribble.

And just like when the weed is nice, I’m giving you the friend price;

On art you won’t find anywhere…KZHS merchandise.

If you see something in here you like, just message me to get a price;

I’ll send promo pics to @artiefice, and toss it in the mail like loaded dice.

“NOTHING is too frivolous.”

“All Custom Everything.”

KZ Concepts 2011/All Rights Reserved

Contact KZ:

E-mail: kzconcepts@yahoo.com

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/KZHighSociety

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kzconcepts

ArtBreak: http://www.artbreak.com/works/kzconcepts

Lyrics by KZ (@KZ4RealTho)

“I exercise my vocab just for laughs; I’ll murder ANYONE in two paragraphs.”

(KZconcepts@yahoo.com)

 What ya gonna do

When you’re out of pills to swallow?

What ya gonna do,

Cause you ain’t got one for tomorrow.

Spend you’re time on Twitter

Tryin to get the world to follow;

Afraid to face society,

Go out with pockets full of hollows.

KZ got tight flows;

Flying higher than the Wright Bros.

I might go psycho,

For tonight is the night, bro.

Gonna get me a bottle;

Spend a few dollars on lotto.

Then go down to the mall,

Window-shop me a Movado.

A Perpetual Rolex,

Never know what’s gonna come next.

 I sold the extra K’s and Tecs,

But kept the Glock to self-protect.

Like it did inside the workplace,

Them boys came in to rob the place,

I got pissed off,

And let off five at his masked face.

He survived the encounter;

Fell off over the counter,

Spinal trauma pissing blood,

Like the pharmacy had a bouncer.

They tried taking I tried givin;

They got picked up and sent to prison.

I been through some shit man;

I’m using that to make a living.

I write and draw all the time,

For ten years I’ve spit local rhymes.

Got inventions on the shelf, and

Finished books; all in due time.

I’ve found myself an agent,

I seek legal representation,

Got to learn what I can say,

What’s self-incrimination.

Three Generations Deep in the Dope Game;

That whole era was a damn shame.

The Source got cheap;

Refused to pay come deadline day.

So I kept the article,

Showed them the middle cuticle,

Sorry there, Amy,

I don’t mean to get rude with you.

I wanted no hard feelings,

Complimented you on Linkedin,

Grab your Blackberry,

Give me a topic, let it sink in.     

I’ll spin some written gold up,

To fill your centerfold up,

We’ll sell a mil and sign a deal,

So both our pockets swoll up.

But now The Source is past-time,

And now I fucks with Cosign;

KG and staff are friends of mine;

They appreciate these words of mine.

I’ve made King Art for T.I;

Been doing art since knee-high.

Ever since the shooting,

I’ve been doing it like full-time.

Tip should lend me his crown,

I wrote when he was locked down.

A four-page legal pad,

Illustrated lookin’ bad!

Sent my memories of Atlanta,

Encased my thoughts in good grammar.

Added kings and queens and jacks,

To pass his time inside the slammer.

I showed support,

While shopping my portfolio,

Tip passed on me,

So onward I go.

And even after all that,

I call the shit the aftermath,   

When jogging on the Towpath,

I expect another blood bath.

I keep the heat with me,

In case they’re coming back to get me,

I still can’t get right,

Shrinks called it P.T.S.D.

It’s social anxiety,

And Xanax makes me tired, G.

I’m better off to blow the trees,

To calm my nerves alone, B.

And only I can keep me safe,

No cop, or judge, or man of faith,

I made the public’s  case,

For concealed carry in a public place.

I’d trade my life for yours

Just to make a point.

Strong-arm your bag of weed;

Roll myself a joint.

I never up and leave

When someone starts a fight.

Pull the tool and pay em back

For they not acting right.

In Monday’s mail I got a kite;

Said FDLE might indict.

Sit and stress my situation

With a Marlboro Menthol Light…

What ya gonna do

When you realize that you can’t find a job?

The rent is two months overdue,

So now you got a major prob.

Stressed beyond belief,

Feel like your bill collectors were the mob.

You light a blunt, put on a song,

Let 50 teach you How to Rob.

Sometimes a jack move goes too far;

Gotta bury the guns and burn the car.

Should have listened to your Nana more,

Tried to tell your young ass life was hard. 

It’s the natural evolution,

Armed kids conducting revolution,

Prefer to live life in seclusion,

Need a fly crib out in Houston. 

What ya gonna do

When your every day is civil war?

Start your days without a car,

and knowing you ain’t going far.

When life is feelin hard

And you done smoked your last hand-rolled cigar.

You hate yourself inside

While spending change and days down at the bar.

What ya gonna do

When Post Traumatic makes you stay at home?

You won’t answer your phone,

And you prefer to spend your life alone.

Keep your boss’ gun at home,

In case you wanna blast your dome.

Society bets you’ll do it,

But you refuse to stain your own chrome.

Privatized the weed game,

The grams and dubs all helped sustain,

My customers drove me insane.

I’ve done my best now to refrain.

From selling it but not from smoking,

You know KZ’s forever toking.

Quit Swishers while they legalize,

Man, you must be fucking joking.

Go to jail for half a cigarette?

The police haven’t caught me yet.

The only reason they’re in charge,

Is we didn’t overthrow them yet.

I do my best to smoke good,

Blueberry in my neighborhood.

I roll it, light it, hit it, hold it,

Nasal exhale smellin good.

The world can be a cold place,

Sometimes you wanna hide your face.

Life-or-death victory has a nice taste,

Still searching for her warm embrace.

(#RealestShitIEverWrote -KZ)

“That’s Gangster!”
The term “gangster” is tossed around far too loose and reckless these days; especially since comments made online often go unchecked. When a young/fat/white/teen/Hot Topic shirt-wearing/Manson fan/college kid uses the word to describe his rhinestone boots, it’s time for us as a society to pause and consider our words more carefully.

“Oh My God, these boots are so gangster!”
Things have gotten way out of hand.
Louis Vuitton bandanas; are you kidding me? That shit ain’t gangster!

Gangster is:

A 1978 Cadillac Coupe Deville with hidden guns and stash boxes/brawling with a guy walking down your street because you’ve never met him/firing shots at someone you don’t like on a crowded street/wearing enough diamonds to finance a revolution.

Riding with a flag out the window, hoping someone has a problem with it/dodging the cops while amassing a small fortune illegally/carjacking to flee the scene of another crime/preferring a forty ounce serving when selecting a beer/knowing that someone’s family members are looking for you/choosing death rather than returning to prison/having overseas drug connections and never talking about them.

Killing a rival for his chain and wearing it around the neighborhood/selling your last half-gram so you can eat/robbing the liquor store on your block because you have to/having pulled triggers, not knowing if they lived or died/naming your pitbull Kilo and eventually being the one to put him down/takeover-style robberies with automatic weapons/earning enough cash to wear a different custom outfit each day/doing your time like a man without ratting on anybody.

Carrying a stolen gun with an obliterated serial number and two bodies on it every day/moving birds, a few ounces at a time/burning the truck afterwards/issuing serious death threats on public walls with a paint can/waiting for the night club to let out so you can avenge a murder/@CosignMag.

Gangster is NOT:
A new Gap hoodie/Soulja Boy/a clean criminal record/a Dodge Neon on 20” rims/parents buying your high school ass an iPhone/Pizza Rolls/suspenders/drinking a bottle of hot sauce on a dare/your teacup Chihuahua/Juicy shorts/the new Justin Bieber single.

Funnel cake/just having a Scarface poster (You’re not Tony Montana!)/ill-fitting jeans/smoking flavored tobacco from a hookah/your child’s baseball team (even if they’re doing well)/adjusting your outfit based on what neighborhood you’re in/a catchy country music song/dressing up your pets/diet soda/’mentioning’ a few things to your neighbor, the cop.

Know what else should never be referred to as “gangster” again?

Stopping for a smoothie at the mall/your friend wearing a $25 dollar grill with stones in it/a strike while bowling/watching 90210/that tired-ass tongue piercing/your Jeep/Chipotle/your family’s summer home/wearing Spam T-shirts/pot brownies on the weekend/any NASCAR driver/a pancake breakfast/punk rock bands/eating an ice cream cone in public/loitering outside a Walmart.

New student orientation for college is not gangster!

Please help maintain the integrity of this word by using it only where it absolutely applies. Thanks. I’m glad we got that cleared up…

Entire -KZ- Collection:

http://kzconcepts.wordpress.com/2009/12/22/the-entire-kz-concepts-collection/

(File this under ‘fiction not conviction.’ Feel me?)

We all seem to go through periods in life when we feel untouchable. Things are going your way, money is lovely, and lately, the ladies just can’t seem to leave you alone. We get a little arrogant; maybe run that extra red light. Sometimes we’ll be cruising along on autopilot when some other element in life makes us come to a full stop. This can come in the form of new legislation, overly-involved strangers, or police officers who catch a funny scent in the car and make us their business.

Keeping a low profile can significantly reduce our need to play by the rules of others. Who among us would PREFER to have police inspecting our home with a fine-tooth comb? Nobody; imagine the shit they’d find! Once you leave the house dirty, your chances of eventually getting caught increase greatly. Sometimes however, the law can be circumvented strictly by luck alone.

Thanksgiving about four years ago, one such incident occurred. I decided to go on a boating trip with my boss and two coworkers. The boss owned the boat; he was a care-free multimillionaire who openly thumbed his nose at authority. He kept a slip in the Sanibel Yacht Club. The boys and I met up with him for a fun day on the open water. We arrived first; the boss was running late as usual. We sat parked in a brand new gold Monte Carlo. The car had all-chrome everything and sat on 22-inch rims. As the windows were completely blacked-out by tint, we decided to smoke a blunt before he arrived. We had that good; orange Southwest Florida hydro with a Kush jacket.

Unfortunately, we were parked in a lot designated for residents of the adjacent gated community. It was sparsely populated;  in hindsight, we must have stuck out like Timberlands at a funeral. Not two minutes after the cigar became a crushed-out roach, I noticed a police cruiser to the left of the lot. We got out of the car fast, hoping to somehow leave the fruit scent inside. We didn’t need the officer to tell us that someone had called on us; residents were now filling their balconies above us.

We explained to John Q. that we were simply waiting for a resident to arrive for a boating trip. “We’re guests.” The cop didn’t even ask us for ID. I was shocked! He swallowed our story at face value and drove away. No matter that the car was bought with drug money, there were still drugs in the car, open containers, and we had four loaded pistols between us. He simply left us inside a restricted area. We could have had a rocket launcher in the trunk! Lucky for him and the residents, our intentions were good. We were dope boys, not terrorists. Within the next ten minutes, our fourth had arrived and we were boarding the boat. We bid farewell to the dock hand and did wake speed toward the channel.

We immediately noticed a row of Coast Guard and police boats docked in a row to our right. It made sense that they would have a post there, but the boats were all heavily manned; cops everywhere. As we navigated through the channel, our captain was careful to observe the posted manatee zone.

We were nearly into open Gulf when we realized there was now a small armada behind us. There were no other boats in the area, so we knew we were about to be stopped.

As the law approached, we began hearing sirens and commands being barked into bullhorns. Upon reaching us, a Coast Guard ship was tied to us, and we were informed that we were about to be boarded. Only three law enforcement agents of the roughly ten present came aboard. The first question they asked us was, “Does anybody here have a weapon?” I raised my hand, then put the other above chest-level with it. Everyone else had left theirs in the car, and I had a permit to carry mine.

Next, I turned around, allowing them to take the custom Glock from my inside-the-waistband holster. I glanced down and mentally photographed the well-worn leather holster the cop was wearing. He carried a janky-ass blue Beretta 92F on his left side. I thought to myself, “Look at that rickety shit; rust in the screw holes…” This prompted me to shout, “Hey, could you be careful with that? I just got it back from the chrome shop!” The officer cleared my weapon and gently set it on the seat across from me. The lead cop conducted a search; cabin, dash, and bathroom. The two jacked-up flat tops in the rear of the boat just stood tall to make sure nobody was making any quick moves. When they found no contraband, they had no choice but to give up. They even made a comment about how well-prepared we were, as we had more than enough life vests aboard. During the search, they had also noticed the bottle of Hennessy we had brought with us.

An officer asked, “Kind of early to be drinking, isn’t it?” I replied with a smirk, “Well, it’s a holiday.” We assured them that the man behind the wheel was not drinking. This was good enough for them. Other than removing the gun I’d offered up, they didn’t search us! As they climbed single file from the boat, I was instructed not to retrieve the Glock until they had left the area. I smiled and waved, telling them to be safe. I looked down at the rear deck just in time to see the last officer’s boot lift up. As his treads rose, I saw a clear blue dime bag containing five 1mg. Xanax pills lying on the carpet.

This cop had literally been standing on it throughout the entire search without realizing it. My heart sunk. I looked at my friend who was sitting in front of the baggie. I knew it was his, I knew damn well where he got it, and I knew how much he had paid for them.  I motioned, suggesting that maybe he had dropped something. His face froze when he realized what was was on the floor, and processed just who had been standing on it seconds earlier.  By now, the police were turned around and headed back to their base. As a rich Egyptian muslim, our boss was a bit spiteful over the encounter.

He ordered us to fill his Dunkin’ Donuts coffee cup with liquor; we obliged. As he sipped his cognac, our captain toasted the Coast Guard, who was still watching us through binoculars. The boys and I poured ourselves drinks. I soon learned that another blunt in a cigar tube had also made it past inspection.

As we roared out into the Gulf of Mexico, we puffed on more of Southwest Florida’s Finest and laughed about our good luck. We spent the next five hours fishing, swimming, and tubing. Life was good, and it was only because a shakedown my local cops was not thorough enough.

Lady Luck was the only thing that kept us out of jail that day. But luck runs out; never let it trick you into thinking that keeping a pipe in your vehicle is ever acceptable. Eventually, you will get caught, probably while you’re doing something more serious. Roll blunts; they’re easy to toss and won’t fetch you a paraphernalia charge. No matter what it is, don’t drive with more than you can eat. Obviously, there will be exceptions. Just be smart and minimize your chances of ending up in one of their privately-owned prisons.

-KZ