“Go and hit a lick, go do what we do, shit by the end of the night niggas got a couple of hundred dollars, a new outfit, and new sneakers on,” he tells me.īefore rapping, Pap found further opportunities through drugs, the scraping of the pot, and the stench of burnt rubber permeating the kitchen walls. You don’t need the biography you can hear it in the music.įor Rx Papi, a regular day in his blue collar former industrial boomtown consisted of copping some weed and filling his pockets with dead presidents. Despite his relative youth, the Rochester rapper had already witnessed incalculable pain and consequences. He depicts landscapes where mere survival tests the strength of one’s love, pride, integrity, and humanity. Rx Papi’s music brings you into the world of dope dealers and drug addiction, where a bright smile camouflages the reality of surviving amongst the bloodshed. Please support reader supported journalism by subscribing to Passion of the Weiss on Patreon. You’ve helped me attain a lifetime goal, and now I will continue on doing it.And our interviews are hotter. That’s what I plan on doing this holiday season while continuing to tell your stories the best I can. It’s a time to make new memories and cherish those that you’ve lost in the past. I hope that as the Christmas season rolls around, all our readers will appreciate the time they have with their loved ones. It’s a hobby of his, so if I am involved, he will stay updated. Steve’s probably also still trying.to keep up with what’s going on down here in Greensboro, Madison or Eatonton.
Papi papi yeah yeah yeah series#
Regardless, I know that he’s up in Heaven probably celebrating the Braves’ World Series victory or is anticipating a potential national championship for the Georgia Bulldogs. I guess smalltown newspapers and drama were of his interest.Īs the holidays roll around, I am going to miss him deeply. The latter I found funny because he lived 60 miles away from Lake Country and has never spent a set amount of time here. He was always thoroughly impressed with Michael Stone’s opinion pieces and would pepper me with questions about the ongoing problems between the LOA Board of Directors and Greene County School System. Steve was always the first one to email me on Fridays saying he liked the work we put out. However, we always communicated via email or phone. It pains me that I never got to see him in the past seven months, but my career has kept me busy. I remember the last time I saw him was after a Braves game in April. Steve was a person that I looked up to, while also being a support network for me in any way possible. I still have that hung up in my bedroom today. He then proceeded to give it to me as a present down the road. Steve ended up saving that ticket and framed it alongside a copy of the AJC article that talked about the game. I moaned and griped because it was past my bedtime, but Steve said, “we’re not leaving until the Braves get on base.” Nevertheless, the Big Unit ended up tossing a perfect game, and all three of us were there to witness it. I was in the third grade at the time and wanted to leave around the eighth inning because my elementary school had a yearbook signing the next day. It was a Tuesday night and my dad somehow scored tickets, so we went to see Atlanta face off against Randy Johnson, who is one of the best pitchers in MLB history. I distinctly remember May 18, 2004, when the Braves hosted the Arizona Diamondbacks. We also would attend sporting events together from the high school level all the way to the professionals. Steve was at every practice, ball game and tryout I can remember. We bonded over sports and he supported me all throughout my athletic career. He’s the individual that sent me the listing on for the job vacancy at the Lake Oconee News. I’m very appreciative of his kindness and generosity because I wouldn’t be where I am today without it. He didn’t have to care for me since we weren’t blood, but he took pride in being a part of my life. We weren’t directly related because he is technically my step-grandfather, but we had a great relationship. Louis for his funeral, which was where he was born. Steve was a resident of the Atlanta area for the past 30-plus years, but recently, my family and I traveled to St. If I were to see him in person, the greeting would be, “Lancey-boy, Lancey-boy, Lancey-boy.” If you were to call him on the phone, the answer at the other end of the line would be, “hello, hello, hello.” If you would ask him something and he agreed, the response would be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” My grandpa Steve, who recently passed away at the age of 83, would always talk in phrases using three words in certain situations.