By Combat Jack

There were these two brothers that grew up on my block when I was a kid, in Brooklyn. Glenn was my age and Wayne was a bit older, maybe by one or two years. We ran as a crew with some of the other kids that lived on Lincoln Place. Them two brothers had that sibling rivalry thing going something kinda strong though. As much as we all loved to see a good fight, especially the ones between two girls for how much dirtier they fought and with the percentage of a young boob or two popping out to our delight, there was something between them brothers scrapping in the street that turned me off. Primal in the emotions fired, guttural in how hard they went for each other’s throats, I hated to see that sh*t. Even in my young mind, I felt that sh*t wasn’t right.

Back when Ice Cube broke off from N.W.A. resulting in one of Hip Hop’s first major break ups, Cube’s No Vaseline, fired with crippling, nerve piercing precision, precision that could only be developed through once having an intimate family-like relationship with his foes, I was proud and confident that New York groups like A Tribe Called Quest and E.P.M.D. would never break up on some corny sh*t like that. That beef, entertaining as it was, was brutal, was ugly. “We ain’t built like that out here” I thought. Heh. I had a lot to learn.

Who woulda thought this day would come, with Jay-Z, the once undisputable leader of the Roc and his former war time general Beanie Sigel beefing like this? In public.

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