Before We Bury the Beef

For real, eulogizing one of the homies, one of the greatest performers I’ve ever seen take a stage, is probably an honor that should’ve been reserved for a better man than me. And while it is an honor, it is simultaneously a tremendous tragedy. It’s one of those things where you wonder what others will have to say about you, yourself, once your time has come and gone; but you’re mostly relieved that you’ll never have to hear any of it.

Oh, it’d be too sad.

Things I don’t want known about me are going to be exposed.

Only God knows what.

But Shiz Skeletal wasn’t like that, ladies and gentleman. He’d have wanted to hear it all. Would have been clamoring to be here, in attendance, today. As a matter of fact, I’m sure he’s fighting somebody up there, right now, to let him watch a livestream of this. Or wanting to see it all, however it is the angels watch over us. And for those of y’all who knew him better as Shawn Brooks, please forgive me. I know he’d definitely make sure he found his way down here to knock me out, one more time, if he heard I’d introduced him as the latter before the former.

That’s how it was with Hard Mic and Shiz. We went to war. But when it came to Shawn and Michael… well, Shawn always said he saw something in me. And I never really understood it, if I’m being honest. Because I was always about me, first and foremost. But Shiz… Shiz had a way of connecting with people in a way I never could. When Shiz rapped, crowds listened. They related. His words had a message which he presented in a clever but, more importantly, authentic and relatable way.

Let me tell y’all about the first time we clashed for the World Championship. We were the top two battle rappers of that era and it was supposed to be a close one. For those of y’all that don’t remember, that was not the case. And I’m still salty about it.

Man, I’d never been booed before. And I mean, like, people were shoutin’, “Get him off the stage.” I thought old boy from the Apollo, with the cane, was about to come and grab me ‘round my neck and drag me outta there. Security had to hold people back from bumrushin’ the stage. Cans, and God knows what else, came flyin’ out of the audience, into my head, like it was wrestlin’ in the 90’s or somethin’. Only thing that stopped them was when Shiz stepped up and shouted, “Aiyo, chill. Aiyo, chill.” That irked me, worst of all. I felt like I was gettin’ punked out.

When it was all said and done, all the judges could say to me was, “Man, what happened?” On the other hand, they were tellin’ Shiz, “You’ve set the bar,” and, “When you told Hard Mic that he’s, ‘sweet like lemonade’ and that he ‘never had a shot…’ bars like that; all I can say is you’re really changing the game.”

Let me tell you. The praise pissed me off. But it wasn’t just that. Because the digs we took at one another weren’t what made the battle timeless. What audiences still remember are the things Shiz opened up about in terms of his own life. People, to this day, still quote, “My mommy was in the grave, my daddy was in the trap. How you had it hard Mike, when all your ass did was rap?”

He put us both on blast. A one-two punch. He was the Mohammed Ali of battle rap and I was going to be the nameless guy who he knocked out to get to the top. I always saw vulnerability as a weakness. Shiz however wasn’t afraid to be. He knew differently and understood that it was what the people wanted. And the audience ate it up. That just didn’t sit well with me.

However, my grudge urged me on to make sure I eventually triumphed over him. And that... That was what Hard Mic hated most. The bitterness that Shiz instilled in me made me better. How dare he? And even though I got my lick back and ended up winning that title off of him, down the lane, he was still always one step ahead of me. Probably several, if I’m going to put myself on blast.

Now, let me tell y’all about the compliment battle we had. That inaugural joint that everybody on the scene bit off of and spent the next couple years trying to outdo us on. But none of them ever had a classic like we did. Y’all want to know why? And I hate to admit this.

It was Shiz’s idea. I was, basically, just there. Anybody would have been a victim of his genius if they had been in my shoes. And trying to do it without him was pure stupidity.

Because it was all him. Y’all probably thought it was the promoters’ idea or some collaborative effort or something but nope. It was all him. I remember it like it was just last night.

We were on our way home from an event out in Toronto and we got stuck at the airport due to inclement weather and all I was trying to do was unwind, sip a little something by the bar. He came to me, all sweating and grinning at me goofy.

“Yo Mike, yo Mike.”

I could tell he had something crazy going on, like he was already coming up with his lyrics before he had even sold me on the premise. He always did this thing with his fingers, like he was playing the piano or something, when he was crafting his bars.

I’m like, “Yeah, what’s good, fam?”

“Mike. I got this idea. It’s a battle but, instead of cuttin’ on one another, we gon’ be real nice. We gon’ compliment one another on some shit.”

I kid you not, those were his exact words.

I said, “Boy, you out your mind. Sit down and let me buy you a drink.”

But he had a way about him. By time we boarded that flight, I don’t know if it was because I was so drunk or because he was so damned charismatic, excuse me for cussin’ in church so much y’all, but he had me convinced it would work. Or, at the very least, that we should give it a try.

“You’re just such a good rapper and I want to get up there and let people know how I feel, man. But the whole idea is that we gon’ try and see who the nicest at bein’ nice, for real. So you gotta come correct, alright?”

He told me that while the plane was taking off and the rest, as they say, was history.

Only that, as you all know, is not where the story ends. Is it? Because now we’ve got to talk about what actually happened.

Man, did Shiz flip the script and rip me a whole other kind of new one or what?

Shiz came in and completely blew me away. He hit me with insults that were veiled in politeness. But as far as everyone was concerned, it was all facts. And they loved seeing him beat me over the head with the truth.

On the other hand, I fabricated material. I was tryin’ to force angles and paint a pretty picture about stuff that wasn’t real. My bars were clinical but soulless. Because, truth be told, me and Shiz were grimy dudes. And the judges saw right through me. Their assessments got under my skin.

“It was funny when you said things like ‘you came from good stock, a house with no drama. You’re truly nice with it but ain’t half as nice as your mama.’ But commentary on Shiz’s mother’s looks isn’t quite as personal as the things Shiz did here. Plus everybody knows he was back and forth between his dad’s and grandparents’ house under some pretty rough circumstances, so it really didn’t hit,” is what they told me.

Versus.

“‘If it wasn’t for Hard Mic, we’d be drinkin’ twisted teas. If he was impolite enough to make us stop to look twice, we’d end up sufferin’ twisted knees.’ Now that was absolutely crazy!”

He thought outside the box. He always did. Made me realize that all I was doing was executing on a blueprint that already existed. But brother Shiz, he wasn’t trying to emulate or improve on nothin’. He was innovating and paving a way forward. That battle made me realize that and, when I did… hoo, boy was I hot. I was pissed, and I still am. Because, what do you do when you realize that all you are is a knockoff trying to replicate the genuine article? Yeah, I had rhymes. I had jokes. But Shiz… he had vision. He saw. Saw beyond it all and brought elements, from outside of the stage and the craft, into the battle scene. He was capable of assessing the game from all perspectives. And that included my own. That’s what rattled me the most. He saw me for who I was.

No more so, was that evident, than on that last night that I saw him alive.

I’d been running late. Got there only a few minutes before our battle. When I got there Shiz had already taken the stage. The pressure was on. It was a big night for us all and I was already dropping the ball. Some of the biggest names in hip-hop were in attendance and this was going to change things for us. Bring us to the mainstream. I took it as a joke. I was already a big deal as far as I was concerned. Shiz took it for real. He put it all on his shoulders and worked overtime; preparing, not sleeping, stressing. It showed on his face when we squared off and got ready to go. He was pale and sweating. I instantly knew something was wrong. The buzzer hit and he was supposed to start rhymin’. I watched as he staggered forward and that's when everything changed.

It wasn't about Shiz Skeketal and Hard Mic at that moment, it was just Shawn Brooks and Michael Flint. Two kindred spirits who had come into the game together. I watched, in horror, as Shawn collapsed into my arms. He looked into my eyes and said, “We made it, bro.”

The rest of it all kind of blurs in my mind. The ambulance arriving. Following it to the hospital. Vexing in the waiting room until the doctor came out, shaking his head.

A brain aneurysm at thirty-five.

I'd thought we’d make it big together. Grow old. Maybe start our own promotion. Tell the young bucks about the good old days and how the scene used to be.

All that was left was my bitterness, my rage, and fury. Asking myself: why did this have to happen to someone like Shawn? A young rapper, a son, father, cousin, and so much more to so many people. He had his whole life ahead of him.

Shawn gave everything in his life; his all. He lived to the fullest and now the light that he shone is forever blotted out.

Hard Mic won’t ever be able to get his final win over Shiz Skeletal, and that’s bad enough. But taking Shawn from Michael and from the rest of us… that feels unforgivable.

As my rival, I hope you’re sweating up there because I’m coming, probably sooner than either one of us wants. As my brother from another mother, I pray you rest in peace.

Amen.