More Sayings of Money Back: World’s Oldest-Living Rapper

Let Us Now Praise Famous Men … Good morning, uh, I mean good evening. See, this world so messed up right now, I don’t even know what time it is …

Maybe I oughta just go back to what we always said in the sixties: It’s Nation Time. Time for rich folks and whites folks, and especially rich, white folks to stop messing with us…

Don’t start frowning, I know y’all gon’ mess with us a little while longer. But remember, we clean your house — we got keys. We wash your clothes — we know where you been and what you been doing when you wasn’t spoze to be doing it. We wash your car — we know what’s in the ash tray, glove compartment and  under the seats. We cook your food … You may want to be nice to us. Just saying …

Anyhow, been thinking about a few things lately in light of what’s been going on. You know famous people and leaders and all.


First off: If you gonna govern this country by meat clever, sooner of later, you gon’ be missing some fingers, or your whole damn hand. And you might wanna buy some steel-toed boots …

If your favorite way to communicate is Twitter, you might wanna learn to read — and spell.

And, can you believe it? One Senator called our President a fraud the other day. That’s not right, or as his administrative team might say, “alternate facts.” The man ain’t no fraud. He told us and showed us exactly what he was before the election.

He didn’t deceive us. We knew he didn’t exactly play straight with the truth. There are alternative truths, you know, depending on what your game is. But folks keep wantin’ to believe the package ain’t the man.

Shame on us! Can’t blame him for that.


Speaking of game. Did you exhale, or want to go somewhere and choke yourself to death after that Super Bowl?

As my friend, Sam, used to say, I didn’t know whether to poop — or wind my watch. I ain’t never seen nothing like it in all my days. And I been here a lot of ’em. Whew-wee!

Question, though.

Why was it Super Bowl LI? Why can’t we just say Super Bowl 51? Houston ain’t Rome! Why we use Roman Numerals? Ain’t this America, and ain’t it great again?

Now, I been to Rome many times. Great, great city. Gotta be great, ’cause that’s where the Big Man lives — The Pope.

And I’ll tell you this current pope is the greatest pope we ever had, barring none. And I’ll tell you why: He’s the coolest pope to ever walk the earth.

The man got style and he’s approachable as all get-out. He’ll talk to anybody; just get out of that funny car and walk through crowds, shake hands. You know he believes in The Almighty; he ain’t scared of nothing. You hear me, nothing.

I’ve played a lot of venues in Rome, but they always turn me down at The Vatican. Man, I’d love to play The Vatican — have them Cardinals rolling on the floor. But I’m gon’ try again next year. You gotta have faith; you never know.

But, you know something I think about every time I see The Pope riding in that funny little car? Why don’t he take that thing to “Pimp My Ride?” That would be great. Them brothers would have that thang so fly, Snoop would wanna be his wheel man.

Put some of them Sprewell, spinning rims on it; a vinyl top and blacked-out windows; TV antenna in the back, and the grill from a Chrysler 300. Whew-wee! Hell, I’d volunteer to be his chauffeur. Don’t laugh! I might be older than Betty White, but I still got my license…


But getting back to that game. That  so-called Super game. I just got three things to say on that: 1. People say you can’t teach an old dog knew tricks. But the thing is, them old tricks he already knows may be just enough (Tom Brady.)

2.Why is it, when you see a man of very few words, he’s also a man of very few smiles (see Belichick.) I just don’t get him. His shorts must be too tight — or something. You see that uncomfortable look on his face all the time?

The man just won the Super Bowl, and what is he doing? Complaining that since his team had to spend the previous two weeks preparing for the Super Bowl, they now several days behind the other NFL teams in making off-season preparations for next season. Is he serious?

Well, of course, the man is always serious. Let’s see: Those other teams didn’t make it to the Super Bowl, right? I betcha every one of them would give up five first-round draft picks just to trade places with him, and still think they got the better deal.

For some people, the Bowl is always empty.

3.Everybody in the Known World, including in Rome, knows you don’t run out of gas during the most important football game of the year, possibly of your whole life.

You take your damn gas witcha! I’m through with that.

I guess I’m not.

I coulda kicked the gas out a few folks at the end of that game, but they wouldn’t let me down on the sidelines.

Enough! But here’s a tip for some of you young bucks out there. I  can look you in the eyes and know whatcha into. Remember now; Be careful what house you break into in the dark: It might be your own. Or mine. And I got something for ya. Believe that!

DAMN!!! …

 I was trying to drop the mic, but the damn thing fell on my foot.

Aw’ight, aw’ight … I may be limping, but I’m outta here …

Money Back Strikes Again



Rapper says whole lot has changed for black folks

since the bad old fifties and sixties …

I’ve been called the world’s oldest, living rapper.

I guess that’s an honor .. sort of.

But what fuzzies me is — how they know?

I mean, who knows all the old rappers in the world?

Just saying.

Me, I believe they just trying to git me to tell my age. See, nobody knows, ’cause I got three birth certificates — and yes, I was born in these here united states.

Where?  I ain’t telling. But just so you know, I ain’t never set foot in Kenya.

But that wasn’t my point when I walked through that curtain.  You know, before I go into my rap thing, I always like to give you guys a little something to think about, something to take with you … you know, when you go home.

Basically, I’m so tired of folks going around all frowned up, saying, “ain’t nothing changed, nothing’s changed in this country. We back to the same old shit — uh, pardon my Russian. They saying, we gon’ be back in outright slavery again ‘fore long.”

Folks don’t know what they talkin’ ’bout.

A lot of things’ve changed. And I know what I’m talking ’bout. As the man in the TV commercial says, “I know a thing or two, cause I seen a thing or two.”

Something’s changed these days that I thought would never change. But you young folks don’t know nothing ’bout what it used to be like. I’m talking ’bout back in the really bad old days.

Yeah, things used to be a whole lot worse than now. A whole lot worse…

Ask yo’ grandmama ‘nem. They know …

Back in them days we had to hide and hope The Man didn’t catch us … and lock us up just for standing there, being black or nappy-headed. Some of us was both.

But it didn’t matter, they was gon’ be on our ass just for dry long so. We didn’t have to do nothing. They were gon’ make sure we knew they could mess with us just cause they wanted to. Pure and simple … and we couldn’t do a damn thing ’bout it.

In my old neighborhood on the black side of town, back when I was growin’ up, there was some bad boys … I mean some bad boys. Them brothers would just as soon slap you upside your head, or cut you with a razor … or just speak to you.

Didn’t make them no difference.

And you wasn’t going to do or say a thing ’bout it, either.

Black Atlanta sho’ had some bad dudes in those days…

But even them boys, bad as they were … even them boys was scared of Alabama.

They be out raising two hundred dollars worth of hell, and somebody come running by, yelling, “Alabama! Alabama!” and every single one of them jokers would scatter faster than a rooster with a firecracker in his ass…

And I ain’t never lied. You see, I got my hand on my heart …

See, back in them days, the word was all over town that the good white folks in Alabama hated black folks so bad, there was a sign up at the Alabama line, and it said: “Read this, Niggers, and run. And If you can’t read, run anyway.”

The only direction we could run … was away from Alabama. You better not be caught in Alabama, period!  You hear me?

If you wasn’t born there, you’d better keep your black ass out of there. They didn’t want anymore Negroes than they already had. King and them marchers and freedom riders was giving them all the headache they could stand.

We was so scared, we had kinfolks in Alabama — and wouldn’t visit ’em. Hell, no!

If we even saw a car with a Alabama tag on it, going down the street, we’d take off, and run ’til we couldn’t hardly breathe.

I ain’t lying.  Got my hand over my heart again. Ain’t joking, neither.

If you heard them things we used to hear they did to colored folks in Alabama, hell, you’d still be running too …

But, thank The Lord, things do change.

These days … not only can you run in Alabama, especially if you can run fast… Alabama going all over these here united states, searching hard … trying to find brothers who can run — and throw.

And if you can tackle and catch, too — hell, you can damn near be gov’nor.

My eyes have seen the glory ….

Thank The Lord for football…




The Man Upstairs, Religious Freedom

From “The Sayings of Money Back,” the oldest, living rapper…

I know y’all didn’t ask, but I got a lot of pet peeves. Folks always asking me, “Money Back, why you talk about religion so much?”

Folks don’t listen. I don’t talk about religion. Other folks talk about religion.

I talk about God — And Us.

How we act and how we oughta act, how we livin’ and how we oughta be livin’. Including me. Yeah, me, too. My foot slips on the path sometime — I ain’t gon’ lie.

God ain’t religion, though.  He’s God. He’s Life. Big diff’rence.

Religion is whatever folks wanna make it. Then, they can’t wait to argue with somebody about it.

But another thing been bugging the hell out of me lately is all these people talking about “The Man Upstairs, The Man Upstairs.”

And they be saying it, you know, talking about God. I don’t even believe they know it, but they dissing God.

They oughta read J.I. Packer’s book, “Knowing God.” He’ll set ’em straight. I read it clean through, and I’m a slow reader. Especially when there ain’t no pictures.

Pay attention to “Chapter Four,” and I betcha that little light in they head’ll come on bright as them fluorescents in Walmart.

The man upstairs? That ain’t God. That’s Jake, The Supa — and y’all know you can’t count on him for nothing.

Heavens knows, if your sink happen to back up — and even if you got water all over the floor, leaking down on them poor folks below you — Lord ‘amercy, don’t call Jake.

It might be a week later ‘fore that scoundrel show up. Then, you got to grease his palm to git him to do something.

Worse yet, you got to grease his palm just to git him to take your calls in the first place.

And he got that big, nice apartment upstairs — and don’t have to pay no rent!

Hell, I git religious just thinking ’bout that crook!

Another thing … and I know a lot of y’all git antsy when I talk about these things,  but …

I read online a few weeks ago (Yeah, I got me a computer and one of them smart telephones. Some folks say it’s smarter than me.) where a Islamic Court in Saudi Arabia sentenced a 20-year-old man to death, ’cause, the court said, he renounced his Muslim faith.

Whew! According to the online report taken from the Saudi Gazette, the young fella posted a video online that showed him tearing up a copy of the Koran, and hitting it with a shoe. A shoe?  Beats me, but …

Saudi Arabia follows Sharia Law, this report said, and under that, what they called “apostasy” demands the death penalty.

Over here, you can rip up just about anything you want, stomp on it, pee on it, set it on fire. And then just walk off without even cleaning up the mess.

And yet, a lot of folks here — in Indiana, Arkansas, Georgia and other places — arguing and fighting like crows over a thirty-pound June bug about what they say is religious freedom.

I may not be the teacher’s pet, but, did I miss something?

God’s not dead; He ain’t even sick

Word, Word, Word for days …

The noted rapper-philosopher, Money Back, takes the stage:

In a world gone mad since  The Big Fall,

You got all these folks talking off the wall:

God almighty don’ give up the ghost.

You believe that rap, you might be toast …

Word — God ain’t dead, and that’s not all,

If you feelin’ me, you’ll heed the call.

Word, Word — Word for days …

With the Right Rev. busy dialing for Dollars,

trying to put a bow on that big ol’ jet … Even he ain’t seen the blue sky yet.

God’s not dead, He ain’t even sick.

The mayor and fire chief battling it out in court — for all the marbles, big and small,

Trying to prove who’s heard the true call …

Word — God’s not dead and He still the judge.

Black men and white cops falling by the side. So much lead and blood, you ain’t never lied.

ISIS chopping heads, dealing out threats.

Word — God’s not dead, and He ain’t finished yet.

Terrorists attack in Paris, France. Tunisia and Yemen, the same ol’ dance.

Gang wars in Sweden, Mass graves in Iraq — and over and under the lip, Netanyahu’s flip-flop-flip.

Boko Haram, Columbine, Red Lake, Aurora, Newtown, Atlanta, G – A …

God’s not dead, and  He’s still on the way.

He’s not resting, not taking a break, not checking out spring on Saturn’s lake.

He rested one day when the world was done. But never sleeps, and He ain’t one to run.

No, God’s not dead. He’s feeling His oats.

With the President  and the Republicans fighting about EVERYthing — and you’d think Hillary’s emails were the holy grail …

But somewhere along that Beltline trail … is that slippery wide road straight to hell.

Word Up — God’s not dead; He ain’t even sick.

Elvis left the building and Michael’s gone, too; No matter how you feel, that’s the real deal. But God Almighty, The Most High, Most Holy — is still at the wheel.

God’s not dead, and that ain’t all…

His reservation’s been set since before Time, and to bet against Him ain’t worth your dime.

Word to the crowd, all out loud: He’s still coming, coming on a cloud,

And not like a child all meek and mild. Not riding in a manger, and not like a lamb…

Coming on a cloud so bright — it won’t even matter if it’s day or night.

You’ll see Him at once — in all His might. And no matter how you run, you can’t run out of sight.

I hope it ain’t winter in June, but — like He said — it could be soon.

Word, Word, Word all night.

GOD AIN’T DEAD ——– Aw’ight!

( Money Back looks out at the crowd, throws down the mic, then Obama-struts off the stage.)

The announcer walks out, shaking his head.  Picks up the mic. “Mr. Money Back will next be appearing in Macon, Peoria, Dallas, Rome and Tel Aviv. Thank you —- and good night.”