I’m a virile, spry 20 year old dj living on my own in the BX. Fordham & Grand. My then 19 year old live- in girlfriend who followed me out there from Boston hits me on the hip on some 911 shit. My Motorola is blowin up which can only mean one thing. She knows about me and Josette.

Two weeks previously, I met Josette at a house party I attended with my man 6 Killa. He was an mc who could kill you with 6 Styles..it was ’96 for God sake.

Josette rocked me from jump. Bad 18 year old (She could have easily been 16) Puerto Rican bitch – caramelled up and smellted like Camay, baby powder, and stew chicken. Long story short, 6 Killa and I took Josette and her girl to an hourly motel by the Bronx Zoo after the party. On the way there the bitch recited King Suns’ verse on a track him and DJ Doo Wop made dissin Tupac. Fell in love precisely right there and shit. We smashed raw in the trizzy – twin beds next to each other. I ate the box – just on the strength of that King Sun shit. Needless to say, I was beyond sprung.

So my girl is frantic on some 911 shit. Josette and I are eatin a slice somewhere in Mott Haven. I turn to her and say, “She knows.”
So my genius ass decides to come clean with the whole shit. Josette and I ride the 4 train back to the rib piece with plans of telling shorty the troof. We get to my rib, and my girl ain’t home yet. So my genius ass decide to take the new woman in my life into me and ole girls’ bed and get to fuckin. I can’t keep my hands off this bitch. Finally, about 40 minutes later (I go hard) we hear the front door open. I tell Josette to get dressed while I go take care of binness. The troof shall set Jew free. So I meet her in the hallway, and shorty is balling her eyes out. I stand up straight, keep a stiff upper lip, and genuinely say, “I’m sorry.” She proceeds to come towards me and pretty much collapses as she puts her arms around me. I’m thinking, “Damn, this chick really loves me – shit’s fucked up as it is – do I really need to have Josette waiting to come out the fuckin dug out?”

Shorty screams as she cries, “Where were yoooooou??? I needed youuuuuu!” I do well under pressure. I calmly responded, “You know where I was…I’m sorry.” She wasn’t expecting that. She says, “Huh?” I say, “You know I was with her…and I’m sorry but that’s who I wanna be with.” She takes two steps back as her eyes lose all semblance of indicating someone is home. She robotically spits out what she has to say.

“I was waiting for the train and someone grabbed me from behind, dragged me under some stairs and tried to rape me.”

Holy.              Shit.

On cue, Josette walks out of the bedroom and joins us in the hallway. Shorty had a nervous breakdown and trashed the apartment.

I don’t mean nervous breakdown on some casually throwin the phrase around type shit…I mean rocking back and forth on the floor in a fetal position pulling her hair out for 6 hours straight type of shit.

Soon as shorty started flippin out,  Josette left the apartment. Shorty packed her bags and left for Boston the next day.

That week I told the story to 6 Killa. He told me that  not only did he fuck Josette in the last 4 days, Josette was a card carrying Hunts Point prostitute that my genius ass decided to fall in love with.

All that to say this.
The BX is the home base, the nucleus, the ultimate essence of this hip hop shit.
18* year old Puerto Rock prostitutes reciting King Sun when Lil Kim was hot.

Get off that garbage these fraud ass internet blog interlopers are telling you to listen to. The sound of New York is not defined by a bullshit ass Asap Rocky post that appears on every cockblowers blog who never stepped foot in The Wedge.

This is 950 Plus. This is the BX. This is that rape music.

3 Responses to “950 PLUS REMINDS ME OF RAPE”

  1. Knife Says:


  2. Sleezy Trees Says:

    this is how the launchpad got cancelled.

  3. nessa Says:

    my genius ass already thought Josette was a pro

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