1991. I'm standing in the parking lot of a supermarket, examining a scratch on the door of my Mustang. A scratch that was not there before I went into the store. I'm pissed off. A car rolls through the parking lot, windows down, bass thumping and I hear the words "Here is something you can't understand, how I could just kill a man." And I'm thinking - mind you, I'm standing there with a baby on my hip and a grocery cart full of diapers and formula - but I'm thinking, fuck yea. I do understand that, man. I drove straight to Mr. Cheapo's Record Store and said "What's this song?" and I did that annoying thing I really hated people doing to me when I worked in a record store and I sang that line to him. Mr. Cheapo smiled knowingly and two minutes later I was in my car, me and my infant daughter bopping our heads to Cypress Hill.
Yesterday. I'm driving home from work. It's been one of those days. What kind of day? A "sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump" kind of day. So I've got Cypress Hill playing and I'm yelling those words pretty loud, kind of glad that it's cold out and my windows are up because really, no one wants to hear a 46 year old white woman singing "All because a nigga tried to play me on the trigger."
What I'm saying is, this album never, ever gets old. Ever. It's my go-to bad mood album, but it's also my "I feel kinda funky" album, which is when I play Hole in the Head over and over again.
Favorite song: Hand on the Pump
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Acura Rsx Club
2 years ago