Definition of a Gangsta and a Gentleman
The Gentleman: Back in the day we called it poetry. We made haikus and set them to tunes played on our local radio station. We sat for hours singing ballads to one another, and during the other half of the night, we repeated punch lines from our favorite rap artist. My favorite was Tupac, but he liked them all. Having been raised by a single mother for most of his life, he understood the emotions and desires of the average woman more than the average gentlemen his age. At 16 years old, he moved to Atlanta with hopes of bringing to fruition the dream of many young men- becoming an artist. His aspiration, however, was a little more unique, instead of offering the carbon copy “Southern” sounds that so many others mimicked, Carl created rhymes that were outside of the norm. His diction emulated that of literary authors as opposed to MC’s, and his subject matter was a little more serious than the popular “snap your finger” tunes of his one-hit-wonder predecessors. He was the perfect gentleman, heartfelt and sincere. Consequently, he was deemed ahead of his times, mature in thought, intellectual, yet at the same time, he was still rough around the edges and a hustler by nature.
The Gangsta: Now, fast forward five years. In what seems like a nightmare, Carl was brutally shot in the face and consequently in a coma for two weeks following. Apparently his brain was in rhyme time during the coma, because Mr. Black recovered with a desire to spit. Perhaps it was the suppressed pain of missing his deceased father, the near death experience, or the miracle of God’s grace that sparked the flame, but despite the muse, Carl dropped his first new single two weeks after awakening from the coma. And he has had pen in hand ever since.
It seems as though the trials of life have fine tuned his skill, and transformed catchy stanzas into eloquent soliloquies with articulate delivery. It is difficult for one to distinguish his accent or even his style. He resembles-no one, his flow is like-no other and yet he makes music that relates to EVERYONE.
So that’s him. He is the humble dude in the back of the club with the 6 bottles of Hennessey on the table. The dark-skinned dread head with the deep set "bedroom eyes" and dimples. The first to ever write me a few lines, the first to steal my heart. He is the Gansta and the Gentleman. He is Carl Black.