Read I Ain't Scared of You Online
Authors: Bernie Mac
I Ain't Scared of You (5 page)
They think you ain't no man or something because you blew a layup.
Or you ain't funny, they think they can just come say, “Man, this old unfunny muthafucka!” Now they think they can disrespect me because I ain't get no laughs. That ain't true, but that's how they think.
Muh'fucka singing the national anthem:
“Oh, say can you seeeee . . .”
Muthafucka
can't
sing, right? But black people see that muthafucka in the hall and let you know:
“Sit
your punk ass down, old hoarse-voice muthafucka.”
I'm serious. We take the little thangs to bust your balls with. Movies. Art. You don't see no black folks at art galleries. Am I lying? White folks be at art galleries, walking quietly up and down the aisles, minding their business.
WHITE ART PATRON (whispering):
Mmmhmm . . . Ahh, wonderful use of blue here. . . . Mmmm. . . . Say, is this frame real oak? Wonderful.
Ahhhhhh.
But black folks? We don't fuck with no shit like that 'cause we got to bust they balls about something.
BLACK ART PATRON:
Got-damn, it's too muh'fuckin' quiet up in here! Damn, they ain't got no music up in this muh'fucka? This ain't nothing but some ol' bullshit! Plus it smell like wet dog up in this muthafucka. Maan, I'm goin' outside to smoke a cigarette.
We gon' find something wrong. Why are we like that? That question is always asked.
I've been a White Sox fan all my life, mostly because the White Sox ain't never got respect. I always was the cat who never went first, so I always had a love for the underdog, and the White
Sox were always thatâeven though the Cubs ain't never won shit. Plus, in Chicago, the White Sox are the black team; the Cubs are the white team. And when you go to Wrigley Field, they make sure you know it. White people own that sum'bitch. You start some shit if you want. Your ass will be thrown over the bleachers.
They run shit out there. You go in there talking that Black Power shit if you want to. You'll have
pink
showing on your ass.
We went out there for a playoff game. There was about ten blacks. Those white folks was smoking, drinking, spilling beers. This one brother was trying to get a little upset. We said, “Man, you'd better sit your ass down before you get humiliated out here.” They'll throw yo' ass out. Their shirts be off. They be red. Cheeks be flushed.
There are just certain places you don't go talkin' that shitârodeos, NASCAR, shit like that. Don't go to no rodeos talkin' that nigga shit: “Man, fuck these white people.” Lemme tell ya some-thin': They'll ride yo' ass like steer up in that muhfucka. Muhfucka talkin' about Brahma Bull?
See, brothers don't know how to go nowhere and shut the fuck up. Brothers think white folks scared of ya. But not all them white boys are scared. Some of them can fight. But they don't fight like we do. See, brothers, we swing from the arms. We can dance around, back up, bob, weave. A black motherfucka can throw a punch and steal a nigga.
But them white boys? Them muhfuckas wrestle. Those muh-fuckas get that Bulldog Frog on yaâwrap they legs around your ribsâand you be,
“Ghaaah!”
You hear a motherfucka holla like that?
“Ghaaaah!”
That white boy got a grip on yo' ass. Those cowboy boots with that knife in the toe? They hit you all in the shin and shit. They wrestle.
Black folks can't wrestle. We ain't never been no scrappers. But when them white boys pick yo' ass up and slam you on that concrete?
And put that little chokehold on you? 'Cause you know white boys like to choke you. Aww, white folks'll choke the
shit
out ya.
Now, brothersâbrothers stomp you. It'll just be,
Stomp, stomp
â“Mother . . . fucka . . . I . . . will . . . kick . . . yo' . . . ass.”
White folks be chokin'. Your motherfuckin' ass'll be there tryin' to scratch their hands and shit.
See, brothers think all white people are scared of them 'cause we talk loud. “YEAH, MOTHERFUCKA, YEAH. RIGHT! RIGHT!”
But you'll get some of those white folks who don't give a fuck 'bout that loud talkin'. Them white motherfuckas with a lot of hair on their backs? You see a white boy with a lot of hair on his backâhe ain't no punk. That motherfucka with them two teeth missin' down at the bottom? They been knocked out! That motherfucka can take a
punch!
Brothers? We ain't gon' fight long. You look at the average black fight. It's 15 seconds. Somebody get stole on, a coupla punches get thrown, somebody's coverin' upâthen somebody's breaking it up.
'Cause we gon' have a heart attack.
We drink. We smoke. We eat hamhocks. Hot sauce potato chips and shit. We don't eat no salad. No kinda vegetables. What nigga you know don't eat no chicken?
So you know, black folks, boy, you get in a fight and hit a nigga in the stomach, he gon' throw up all on your back. We ain't in no shape.
Run?
Run?
We ain't doin' no runnin'. Black folks ain't doin' that. When we was younger, yeah. We would run. But older brothers? Shit, I ain't runnin' unless some gangbangers are chasin' me. I ain't runnin'. Shit, your lips be white.
Maaaan,
shit.
Speaking of fights, you know when you done really got fucked up in a humbug? When you gotta make an announcement. You ever notice that? Black folks, when they fight and shit, they got to make an announcement.
Slap!
“Oh! This muthafucka done hit me in the mouth, got-damn!”
Or “Man, this muthafucka done stabbed the fuck outta me! Got-damn, man, this muthafucka done stabbed me, man! Ain't this a bitch!”
We gonna tell you. We gonna make an announcement.
Pow!
“Aw,
hell
naw! This muthafucka done bust my muthafucking head open!”
We gots to announce it. We're funny. It's the truth. We got to tell you what's going on, straight up. If it's a humbug, we make an announcement: “Man, them muthafuckas fighting!” Like we can't
see
that! “Man, he got a gun. He got a gun!”
They gon' tell you. Black folks are journalists when some shit jump off. We're informants.
I talk about black folks, but really, it's okay to have that nigga in you. You can't forget that nigga in you. In life you gon' be tested. You gotta let a muh'fucka know sometimes: “I'm a nigga!” Ain't nothing wrong with bein' a nigga. There's somethin' wrong with being a “nigger”âbut not a nigga.
In meetings, I've conducted myself like a gentleman. White folks say something out of pocket, and before you even realize it, you like, “Muh'fucka, who you talkin' to?”
White folks'll say some shit like, “OK, in the intro to the TV show, we want you to come out and dance. Then we want you and your wife to fight, talk about her like Fred Sanford used to talk about Aunt Esther.”
Boy, white folks bring the nigga out you! That nigga just'll
slide
out you. You like, “What? Man, I'll kick yo' ass!”
You can have a doctorate. You tryin' to explain something, some white person say some shit: “But, doctor, you have the vertebraâ”
You just snap. “You heard what I just said, nigga?” Your whole voice change.
See, that's to bring out the nigga in you. I like a lil' nigga. My grandmother used to say, “Don't bring out the nigga!”
We had a family fight. Our family was all out in the street. We was fightin' the Tarvers. Me and Earl Tarver was scrappin'. Then his auntie held meâand he got a good hook in on me.
Pow!
My grandmother was standin' there. She say, “Oh, no! Bring out the nigga! You don't hold
my
grandson!”
My grandmother held him, talkin' about, “Go get yo' lick back!”
She held him. I tried to knock his ass out, that
sumnofnabitch!
Had to get my lick back.
Licks was important where I come from. Licksâand “last.”
Oh, a muh'fucka got “last”? When you thought the fight was over and he stole yo' ass? Man, one time I was in school and was fightin' this muh'fucka. And just when they were breakin' it up, the nigga tagged me, man. And everybody just yelled,
“Whooooohooooooo!”
That fired me up. I'm shaking. Guard all up. The teacher told me to go sit on the other side of the class. I'm all mad. I started scooting my chair up to that muh'fucka and was hummin'. You know how you get so mad you start humming?
Mmmm-hmmm, muh'fucka. Mmmmm-hmmm!
I'm getting my lick back. That muh'fucka got last!
Last make you kill a muh'fucka.
BYSTANDER:
What happened, Bernie? Why'd you stab him?
ME:
He got last.
Man, that's some nigga shit right there. What the fuck is some damn last?
A muh'fucka get a lick in and then they
break it up?
You can't even go around nobody. People talkin' about it. I'd be tight. Can't even do no homework. I'm mad.
Like with the fight with me and Earl. Now, my family was peaceful,
church-going people. My grandmother and them was like the mayor of our neighborhood. We wasn't known for no humbuggin' mess. That's what shocked everybody, see. We wasn't known for bringin' out the nigga.
But that nigga got last.
I don't care who you are. You black and wanna see a muh'fucka bring out the nigga? Get last.
I don't care if you a preacher. A muh'fucka get last?
PREACHER:
Oh, you done mess up now.
ME:
Man, I'm always listening to the people around me, always watchin'. 'Cause people are funny, and if you talk to them long enough, they'll tell you some crazy stuff. You find all kinds of shit to take to the stage.
FRIEND:
Yeah, like he tells this story about kids being smart. It was about my daughter. What happened was, one time, my wife walked into the room and wanted to watch something on TV. She told my daughter, who was three, she was going to switch channels. Before she could, she had to run into another room. When she came back a few minutes later, she tried to use the remote to change channels, but couldn't. She kept trying for a few seconds, then she finally checked the remote. My daughter done took the goddamn batteries out.
ME:
Hmpph. Kids. You gotta watch them lil' sum'bitches, man. They too smart for they own good.
FRIEND:
Some mo' true shit: I'm a cop, right? So I'm always telling him about stories from work and shit. I told him about this dope dealer. Me and my partner, we were looking for the dude who killed this motherfucker. We in the funeral home before anything happens, staking out the place to see if we saw anybody suspicious come in. He laying in the front of the
church, coffin open. We're looking at the book to see who signed in.
A motherfuckin' pager goes off.
I check my shit, my partner checks his shit. Nothing.
Damn, man, I know I heard a pager.
But ain't nobody in the church. We finish looking . . .
Beep, beep, beep, beep. There that muh'fucka go again, right?
We walk up to the casket and there this motherfucker is laying up there dead than a pager going
off!
I said, “Yeah, that's the devil callin', tellin' him he late.”
BUTTER:
Another time, we was out doing a ride-along, me and Bernie, out in a police car. We out on the west side. I'm just showing him some of the shit I do, right?
So we see two other police get out and stop this cat, put him on the hood. He kept looking in the car. Then he figured out who it was.
He said, “Damn, they got Bernie Mac?”
Then he said, “Bernie Mac 5-0?”
ME:
I heard that shit and that's when I
had
to get out. I let him know: “Hell, naw! I ain't the police and don't y'all
start calling
me no damn five-oh!”
So then I start talkin' to the dude. The brother is about 19. The police done got some weed off of him. I'm like, “Seriously, why you like this, man? Why you out here?”
That motherfucker told me, he said, “Man, you just don't know, Bernie. Man, this
street stress
is a mutha-fucka.”
I said, “What?”
Brother said, “Street stress.”
I said, “That ain't like
regular
stress?”
Street
stress! Now that's some heavy shit, there. You worried about whether somebody gon' come pop your ass. That's street stress.
He was on the car, and he was serious, man. He looked up, he saidâlike he had just worked for 24 hours straightâ“Street stress a muthafucka!”
He looked like he was getting ready to break down. He needed somebody to talk to. Like he getting ready to get hit tonight. Like he ain't have somebody's
money.
“Man, this muthafucking street stress a bitch.” He act like, “I'm busted tonight. I ain't got dawg's money.” He act like he was getting ready to get out the game.
His boys was watching. They knew we had him and were looking to see if that muh'fucka was gon' talk. He was trying to get up out of there!
That nigga looked up like he was gon' cry and was like, “Why don't y'all take me
with
y'all?”
Niggas don't be knowing how to do their shit, man. You need to study them ol' crackhead ass hoes that be selling pussy cheap. They be knowin' how to do wrong.
Ever see those crackhead prostitutes? The ones with the blue lips? They be higher than a motherfucker, still tryin' to shake sexy. Blue lips, eyes be yellow like a motherfucker, talkin' 'bout, “I'll suck ya dick, ten bucks. Pull 'round the back of the police station.”
And that's just what you do, too. When ya do wrong, do it in front of the police. That's how ya do wrong.