Houston Free Press Article

Houston Free Press article

Don't shout it, do it. Free SPM

With the release of the SON hopefully coming up soon it is fucked up that the man making the music won't be able to get a disc himself.

The DH Army is coming back to life and picking up new members daily. But, the man who started this all is still in jail and ten years later we still have a D.A. unwilling to review this case. Nobodoy wants to touch this with a ten foot pole in that office.

How do we do something? SPMaftermath.com has instructions twice a month on how to write letters to the D.A. to ask to reexamine this case.

There are two specific posts on how to write effective letters.

http://www.spmaftermath.com/2011/09/writing-effectively.html?m=1

http://www.spmaftermath.com/2011/09/writing-effectively-2.html?m=1

If we intend to make a difference the DH Army will need to be more than just a fan club. We need to start showing the world we have a strong voice. I am asking you to take a few minutes out of your day twice a month and write a letter to the D.A.

If you need a stamp and an envelope just email me where to send it.

Titomorton@yahoo.com

I will send you a stamp and envelope. You only need to provide the time and write the letter.

We need to stop just saying Free SPM. We have the ability to do it if everyone provides just a little of their time.

Don't just whisper it. Don't Just shout it. Do it. Free SPM.

Video Treatment

Talked to Los and he is working almost a hundred percent of his time working on a video treatment for a track off the SON.

He is excited about the concept for the cover Pain told him about and he is working on a dedication to the fans on the inside cover.

It's all coming together and it is just details and artwork now that is needed for the album. The music videos are almost out of the planning phase and will begin filming soon.

-Brent

Problems

I have been asked by a few people about the situation with Tudy. These are the facts that I am aware of.

While at a man's house who was out on bail, a bail check was performed by the authorities. During the bail check some type of illegal substance was found. The authorities arrested everyone in the home, including Tudy, and everyone was charged in relation to those illegal substances. I will update you further when there is more information than just the police saying everyone they see is a criminal. 

-Brent

Medicine Girl, SON release, DH Army

MEDICINE GIRL

There is a publication that recently published an interview with Los which discussed many things including Carolyn Rodriguez. This FAKE interview said many things including she was not part of the Dope House family and some other stupid shit  claiming it was said by Los. Sadly some people chose to believe Los was spewing this hate and started attacking Carolyn.

Los primarily speaks through SPMaftermath.com and he only talks about love. Carolyn is a strong member of the DH family and one of the few people that is on the SP Meskin's visitor list.

This was just a cheap publication and a few hateful people on Facebook trying to use someones name to start some drama, get their name out there, and make a buck. Which is exactly why I refuse to acknowledge them directly at the moment.

Carolyn is DH family, don't believe every idiot with a computer.

SON RELEASE

Even I am getting tired of all the updates and still no album. Los made this album in lock. That itself presented a challenge. You ever see somebody set up a sound booth in a jail cell? The shit took awhile to master and get up to professional standards, I've heard it and know it is both dope and done. It is set for a March release, to the best of my knowledge it is just at the point where the initial few discs need to be made to verify quality, the snippets need to be released, then a shit load of discs need to be made. I am going to try and get weekly updates for everyone till that point.

DOPE HOUSE ARMY

Got my boy Kevin who I am going to get with on heading up the new DH Army, @spmofficialfancb. Young J will probably be the first one with snippets for people, @wemadeyou2010 . Stay up to date with what's going on with the DH family at mexicaninfo.Blogspot.com. If it does not come directly from or is mentioned by Carolyn(medicine girl), Baby Bash, Lucky, Gotti, Jay(SPMaftermath), Brent Morton, Tudy, or @sonofnorma,or Pain, it may not really be Carlos or his words. Don't believe all this negative shit and hate being spewed by people. Some people need to lie and use other people's names to get you to listen.

-Brent

7. And They Said

“And they said I couldn't do t. Now I'm selling out stores, stayin true to it. Even from a prison I ball like a rocket. Mothafuckas steady trippin, cause they just can't stop it.”

That's what the hook says, and it's nothing but the truth. This song is a reminder to all of you, that no matter what, as long as I'm breathing, these hoes will feel me.

I liken this song to a victo

ry speech. I start off just talking, telling you how much you mean to me. I say, “You help me feed my family, you help me clothe my children. And all I do is flow, but flow I do. Lol!”

After I say that, I start my first verse. I end that verse with these four lines:

“So much love in the mail they handin me
Fans are family, friends was a fantasy
Everything clear, let the saga live on
bout time I wrote a mothafuckin positive song, H!”

The 2nd verse ends like this:
“This is my hood, we don't claim no sets
but the streets are alive and the game don't rest
So I stay on my toes, still I'm able to smile
A brand new year, man, I made it somehow ha!”

“And They Said” has two 16 line verses, and ends with an 8 line verse. On the outro, I dedicate the song to E-Dub and Khool-Aid from Pocos Pero Locos Radio Show. These two people have done so much for the Mexican American rap artist, and I love them very much. Make sure you're supporting Pocos Pero Locos (The Network) in every way you can. They also have a record label, and a new video show.

“6. The River”

This is a message to all competition, which the hook makes obvious:

“Who det floats in the river?

The compition

I told you Los was a killa,

You wouldn’t listen . . .”

The beat to this song is raw hip hop, East Coast style. Producers named the Boomjacks made the beat, and they also have beats on future SPM projects. These dudes are cold, but I rarely did hip hop tracks on previous albums. I’m starting to get more into that style, because it calls for skill, not that bubblegum bullshit we’ve all been hearing lately. My lyrics deliver the same message as the hook. Here’s a few pieces.

1^st verse:          

 “Ever album I release is like genocide…”

2^nd verse:         

 “Jack Rippa, nah nigga, Jack Kevorkian
I write in pencil, this is how the story end
Rhyme wicked, forensic, scientific,
You can’t see me, dog, less you buy a ticket…”

3^rd verse:         

 “competition bore me, who you ‘sposed to me

 Number one, nigga please, you ain’t close to me

get dealt with, sleep widda a jelly fish

have you on some ol’ someone please help me shit…”

“5. Twenty-Eight”

The hook to this song goes:

“I don’t wanna die today

But I got 28 in my microwave

Everybody in the hood really like my yae

Pure and uncut, got no time to play . . . listen y’all”

(repeat)

If you know anything about the “game” you know what “28” is. But for the sheltered, it means an ounce of cain.

This song is for all them boys who know what it feels like to live and die by the triple-beam scale. Here’s a piece of the first verse:

“S.P. browna than a dirty penny

Got’cha whole click screamin, “Who murdered Kenny!”

Purple bong hitta, the stuff you on shippa

Pull ya heat and I bet’cha I respond quicka…”

This is definitely one of the more gangster tracks on the SON. But, at the same time, I have fun with it, like the last lines on the 2^nd verse:

“I be there all the time widda 40 bottle tryin

Hard to hit Lil Joe, now it’s gobble gobble time

Broke the house, wid my friends, I be hittin many licks

They be, like, “Los, give it back, you already rich!”

Just to translate, I’m saying that I be in my hood “all the time” with my 40{ounce.} bottle of beer, trying to hit “lil Joe” which is “four” on the dice. When I say “broke the house” that means that I rolled the four on the dice and took everybody’s money in the dice circle. I say I “be hittin many licks” because I’m making money, whether sellin dope or playin dice. And my homeboy’s want their money back, because they say I’m already rich. Lol!

I end the last verse explaining the condition of the streets. It’s not exactly a fair game, but it is what it is:

“I accomplish at will but still I feel that I’m cursed

I told’em, “we can have peace or let the bullets dispurse.”

In the game where the referees don’t show up,

It ain’t no rules in my hood, the best man blow up…”

“4. Chiefin”

Man, I could listen to this song over and over. The hook is addictive and shadow Ramirez did a dope job on the beat.
It’s one of those jams that’s strictly for the rollers. Whether you’re rollin a blunt or an Eighty-Two Lac, just roll on. I start the first verse:

“Tadaaaaaaah, look who back
With them 84’s pokin out a brand ne Lac
Supa dupa car, I pull a superstar
You gon’ look I don

’t give a fuck who you are…”
As I was writing this song, I was thinking about the carwash on Martin Luther King Blvd., where everyone goes on Sundays. You see nothing but candy paint drippin, syrup slippin, trunks poppin and diamonds on wood.
You’ll notice on the SON album how I’m having more fun than on When Devils Strike and The Last Chair Violinist. I can only write how I feel during those times in my life, especially on When Devils Strike, you can hear the darkness. But songs like “Chiefin” will take you back to the “Reveille Park” days when I was just clowning the mike.

Here’s a few lines from the 2nd verse:
“Soon as I hit the scene a nigga triple teamed
Bitches starin at me like they dyin to kiss a king
They wanna be Billie Jean and try to combine
9 months later say his eyes look like mine…”

But I tell ‘em like Mike did, “The kid is not my son!”

“3. Hustla World”

This song is an ode to the hustler in everyone of us. Wether it’s the single mother working multiple jobs, or the father laying roofs in 110 degrees weather. My hustla world went from slanging on the corner, to music, to, now, aspiring to become a writer of books.

The first verse is a celebration of us (Dope House Records) making it:

“I’m talkin dead-ass presidents, drivin S-class elegance/Buying gidgets and gadgets that fuckin send fast messages. . .”

I say:

“My hope is to write a book and show’em the fight it took/Remember when I lost the two O-Z’z tryna cook?”

This last line talks about losing two ounces of crack down the kitchen sink. It was in a mayonnaise jar, and I had just pulled it out of the microwave, so it was still in it’s jelly form. You have to splace cold water on the jelly so it settles at the bottom. It was me, T.O., Ron Clark and few other guys there at my trailer. I was at the sink splashing water on the dope, and the bottom of the jar broker. Two ounces, that costed me twelve hundred dollars, fell smoothly down the drain. “Nooooooooo!” I screamed. I had just started in the game and that was all the money I had to my name.

My homeboys dared not laugh, even though I could tell they wanted to. We were all just dumb teenagers trying to make it out of the ghetto anyway we could. “Nobody turn on the water!” I yelled.

I ran to my mom’s room (she was at work, of course) and grabbed a little toolbox she kept in her closet. I took apart the pipes under the sink and reached my hand in there, hoping to pull out atleast a few hundred dollars of my product. All I grabbed was a bunch of slimey, green gunk, I could tell T.O. laughed but he acted like he was coughing. “Noooooooo!” I screamed, again. I got up and kicked a few pieces of furniture, threw a few things around and wondered what I was going to do next.

Later that day, I called my best friend, Hulon, who originally showed me how to cook dope in a microwave. “Man, I lost two ounces today, “ I said.

“How did you do that?

“The fucking jar broked from the bottom, and my shit went down the drain.”

“Damn, nigga, how many times you use that jar?”

“I been using the same one!”

“Naw, my nigga, you can’t use the same jar. The glass gets weak.”

“You son-of-a-bitch, now you tell me! I’ll kill you motherfucker!”

“Calm ya little jalapeno-ass down, nigga. Come to the house, I’ll front you a win.”

“You ain’t frontin me shit! I’m taking all you shit!”

“Hurry up before my momma get home.”

True to his word, he “fronted”(loaned) me a “win”(an amount of dope that I could profit from) and I had to start all over.

The second verse starts:

“The eyes of broken hearts, the lives that broke apart/ turning the ignition close ya eyes and hope it start . . . “

When I wrote that line, I pictured a single mom having to get to work. She has this crappy car, and no one to help her fix it. It’s a cold morning and she’s not sure if it’ll even start. She closes her eyes, whispers a prayer and turns the ignition.

The verse goes on to talk about prison, another hustla world:

“Wonder why the money makes a man take and deystroy,

Because the money is the push behind Satan’s employee

The devil’s hook hides deep inside big face bills

You either die or you findin out how this place feels. . . “

The last verse takes us to yet another hustla world, the strip club. I’ll give you the ;ast line, then go into the chorus, which I’m singing:

“Spendin hundred dollar bills, shit don’t let me begin,

Cause everytime I leave that place I feel empty again. . .

(chorus-being sung)

Just a gangsta mind up in a hustla world

Growin up a nigga couldn’t even trust my girl

Unzip my hoodie and I draw the strap

Either that or get zipped in a body bag

So many of’em die and the wounds don’t heal

Make me wonder what the real definition of real

Never thought that a Papermate would save my life

It’s nothing but the truth as I raise my right. . . “

Con Amor,

Los

“2. People”

The hook on “People” asks a constant question in my life, “Losy, why you always so high?” This is something that those closest to me seemed to always ponder. In this song I make my attempt at explaining myself.I even answer the question on the same hook like this: “If you only know how I’m stressin, you would surely understand why.”

The first lines of this song s

ay, “I put dro in gars, put coke in jars/ gotta stay on my toes so I don’t do bars.” I know most of you don’t need a translation, but for the “not-so-street” people, I’m saying that I put hydroponic herb (dro) in cigars (gars), and put coke (cocain) in jars (because I cooked crack in various types of jars). And I had to stay alert so I didn’t do Zanex AKA “handlebars” AKA “bars.”

The first verse is mostly playful, but does touch on the game “dope game.” There’s a line where I say, “In the game with no ref, but will bury a fouler.”

This is a song where I’m not only singing the hook, but also a few lines within the verses. Some say my voice is one only a mother can love, but I vehemently disagree. Mom says I’m the Mexican Barry Manilow, so love it or shove it.

I start the second verse:
“I meet a fan and be trippin how they squeeze my hand/
I remember chuggin Busch and I’d keep the can. . .”
A few lines later I start singing this line:
“In the club I be tryna dance/
But I look like gramps when he fell in the plants . . .”
That goes on to talk about how my “Wela” didn’t think that was funny, but I did. This was just a memory I had that I decided to share. I was, like, eight at the time, and when we do the video, we’ll need to find a kid for that part.

Every verse on the SON is dope, and the last verse of people is no exception. I talk about my cousin being at the war in Iraq; “Livin under pressure, I pray for the soldier.” Right after that, I touch on the night my bestfriend’s daughter was shot with an AK-47(In a drive by.) Her foot was hanging by the skin. If she had slept the other way on the couch, (which was the side she normally slept on), the bullet would have hit her head. Still, what can you tell a man’s who’s liyyle girl’s blood is all over the floor? All we could do was cry in eachother’s arms. It’s a long story but the cops caught the bitches before we could. The good news was that the doctors did an amazing job of reconstructing her ankle. She was only six or seven so her bones grew exactly how the doctors anticipated, and now she’s fine. She walks and runs and jumps like it never happened. She’s married now and just had her first baby around a year ago.
“Lord help me, tight fists around the clip/
I feel like I can’t breathe, I need revenge for this shit. . .”

Her dad is Joey, the one with his entire back tatted with the Dope House logo. He’s one of the few men that I’ll die for. He also served in the United States Army. Long live the Navajo Nation.

Con Amor,
Los

Dear Fam,

Until the snippet releases, I'm going to begin giving you a literary snippet on the S.O.N. I'll start with the official song list:

"The Son of Norma"

1. SPM Vs. K-Luv
2. People

3. Hustla World
4. Chiefin
5. Twenty-Eight
6. The River
7. They Said
8. Frustration
9. Till They Come
10. Without The Son
11. Don't Go Away
12. Poor Kids
13. My Homegirl
14. To The Flame
15. If it were you
16. Addicted To Storms
17. Angels

"SPM Vs. K-Luv" is a battlerap of me against a guy in the Harris County Jail. We actually had several battleraps because he was always challenging me. But, this time I was on the phone with Shadow, and he recorded us. A homeboy named J-Soto, who is one of the County Boys, (a group I put together in the County), held the phone between me and K-Luv, and we went at it.

My favorite thing about this battlerap is that we found time to enjoy ourselves, even under such difficult circumstances. K-Luv was awaiting trial and still wasn't sure if the DA was going to push for the death penalty. He was out there on drugs, and hanging out with the wrong people, and the next thing you know, him and his "friends" are in jail, facing aggravated kidnapping charges, and even murder.

I was there, hoping to get relief on my appeal, but no dice. A few weeks later I was on the bus, going back to prison.

One of the funniest parts (I think) is when K-Luv says they compared to him, I'm "shorter than a midget." The ironic part is that I'm taller than he is! I got dead on his ass for that one.

On one part I'm imitating his mom, who's making him "stay in the house!" I must have reminded him of Eminem because he says, "You ain't no Eminem, you're more like a skittle…" Sadly, he could find nothing to rhyme with "Skittle."

That was about the last thing he said, because after that, I went off. I told him I'd make him have some lumps, and make him dance around talkin bout "my humps."

Just like our previous battles, K-Luv walks away in defeat. But he was back the next day, ready for another lashing.

Con Amor,
Los

PS. I'll talk about "People" next.