one shoulder. "Sure,
La'Renz. Why not?"
CHAPTER 20
Kirbie Amor Capelton
I was standing inside the men's bathroom with my gun
at my side. It was just me and my gold teeth robber friend in here.
He had closed himself inside a stall, but he hadn't locked the
door. He thought he was alone. I could open it up and shoot him in
the back of his head right now while he was pissing.
But I at least wanted him to tell me where my
shit was first.
I took a step closer to his stall, but then I
stopped abruptly when he starting singing to himself.
"Hustling just to make a
way/ each and every day I pray, that I make it out
this gaaaame!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, as he relieved himself.
"I wanna start anew/ God, just show me what to do/ and I promise
I'll chaaaange!"
His singing was crude, but
that wasn't why I paused. I was startled that he was singing lyrics
to one of my songs! It was a song called "Can't Hustle Forever"
that was featured on Coras's recently released
mixtape Swope Park Gritter Vol.
2 . So I was amazed that this guy knew the
lyrics to my songs already . The mixtape hadn't been out
a month. Did I get robbed by a fan?
He kept singing, as his piss stream began to
wane. He was almost finished, so I didn't have a lot of time to
decide if I should go through with this. I felt like God was giving
me a sign to turn around and get the hell out of this bathroom and
go pursue my dreams. That's what "Can't Hustle Forever" was all
about: leaving the bullshit behind. I could bounce back from losing
those pills, just like Archie and Coras had said. It would take
time and extra energy, but I could do it. I didn't have to kill
this man.
Just like I didn't have to kill Mary Moét
...
About a year ago, I was
faced with a situation that I handled completely wrong. I was just
starting to become a hot artist in Kansas City when it was brought
to my attention that another local singer, Mary Moét, was stealing
production from me as well as my vocal style—and in some cases she
re-sang whole verses of mine word-for-word. Coras tried to calm me
down by saying, "Imitation is the best form of flattery,"
explaining to me that copycatting was part of the music industry.
But I took it personal—especially when I saw that people on her
Site page were accusing me of stealing
from her .
And although she didn't respond to those accusers, she didn't
correct them either.
One night I followed Mary Moét home from a
show she performed. She was walking up to her apartment building in
a cheap bodysuit and Louboutin redbottom knock-offs, when I called
her name. She turned around. When she recognized me she started to
smile. It went away in a snap when I pointed my 9mm at her. I had a
30-round clip attached, but I only used five.
It wasn't very long before I got
arrested—not because of evidence but because of haters and hearsay.
Archie bonded me out, I paid for my own lawyer, and Coras found me
a private investigator that worked independent of my lawyer to
gather his own valuable background information on witnesses that
claimed they knew I shot Mary Moét. The lack of evidence was the
main thing that led to my acquittal.
To this day, I often wondered if Mary Moet's
last smile was one of respect and admiration or if she'd just been
taunting me.
"I wanna start anew/ God,
just show me what to do!" my robber sang again, snapping me out of
my thoughts. "And I promise I'll chaaaange!"
He flushed the toilet.
When he came out of the stall his head was
down as he was buckling his jeans. I was sure he saw me standing
here in a purple hoodie but he was so drunk that he assumed I was
just another male sharing the bathroom. He had on the same boots he
used to press my face into the ground.
He bumped into the sink in a way that looked
accidental, then he started washing his hands. I was just standing
here watching him; I was completely out of place.
Leave, Kirbie,
leave, I told
myself. Don't do
La'Renz. Why not?"
CHAPTER 20
Kirbie Amor Capelton
I was standing inside the men's bathroom with my gun
at my side. It was just me and my gold teeth robber friend in here.
He had closed himself inside a stall, but he hadn't locked the
door. He thought he was alone. I could open it up and shoot him in
the back of his head right now while he was pissing.
But I at least wanted him to tell me where my
shit was first.
I took a step closer to his stall, but then I
stopped abruptly when he starting singing to himself.
"Hustling just to make a
way/ each and every day I pray, that I make it out
this gaaaame!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, as he relieved himself.
"I wanna start anew/ God, just show me what to do/ and I promise
I'll chaaaange!"
His singing was crude, but
that wasn't why I paused. I was startled that he was singing lyrics
to one of my songs! It was a song called "Can't Hustle Forever"
that was featured on Coras's recently released
mixtape Swope Park Gritter Vol.
2 . So I was amazed that this guy knew the
lyrics to my songs already . The mixtape hadn't been out
a month. Did I get robbed by a fan?
He kept singing, as his piss stream began to
wane. He was almost finished, so I didn't have a lot of time to
decide if I should go through with this. I felt like God was giving
me a sign to turn around and get the hell out of this bathroom and
go pursue my dreams. That's what "Can't Hustle Forever" was all
about: leaving the bullshit behind. I could bounce back from losing
those pills, just like Archie and Coras had said. It would take
time and extra energy, but I could do it. I didn't have to kill
this man.
Just like I didn't have to kill Mary Moét
...
About a year ago, I was
faced with a situation that I handled completely wrong. I was just
starting to become a hot artist in Kansas City when it was brought
to my attention that another local singer, Mary Moét, was stealing
production from me as well as my vocal style—and in some cases she
re-sang whole verses of mine word-for-word. Coras tried to calm me
down by saying, "Imitation is the best form of flattery,"
explaining to me that copycatting was part of the music industry.
But I took it personal—especially when I saw that people on her
Site page were accusing me of stealing
from her .
And although she didn't respond to those accusers, she didn't
correct them either.
One night I followed Mary Moét home from a
show she performed. She was walking up to her apartment building in
a cheap bodysuit and Louboutin redbottom knock-offs, when I called
her name. She turned around. When she recognized me she started to
smile. It went away in a snap when I pointed my 9mm at her. I had a
30-round clip attached, but I only used five.
It wasn't very long before I got
arrested—not because of evidence but because of haters and hearsay.
Archie bonded me out, I paid for my own lawyer, and Coras found me
a private investigator that worked independent of my lawyer to
gather his own valuable background information on witnesses that
claimed they knew I shot Mary Moét. The lack of evidence was the
main thing that led to my acquittal.
To this day, I often wondered if Mary Moet's
last smile was one of respect and admiration or if she'd just been
taunting me.
"I wanna start anew/ God,
just show me what to do!" my robber sang again, snapping me out of
my thoughts. "And I promise I'll chaaaange!"
He flushed the toilet.
When he came out of the stall his head was
down as he was buckling his jeans. I was sure he saw me standing
here in a purple hoodie but he was so drunk that he assumed I was
just another male sharing the bathroom. He had on the same boots he
used to press my face into the ground.
He bumped into the sink in a way that looked
accidental, then he started washing his hands. I was just standing
here watching him; I was completely out of place.
Leave, Kirbie,
leave, I told
myself. Don't do
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