a letter to bobby

Illustration by: Jack Lipkin

Dear Bobby, 

I can’t recall a moment in the last six years where “Hot Nigga” was not played at a party, BBQ, or overall function, with “Bobby Bitch” or “Computers” following it. The new platinum plaques adorning your walls attest to that; you did six and the name was still ringing! We all know that the streets have been waiting for that infamous Knicks fitted to come back down to Earth, and on February 23, the hat finally returned to our Brooklyn blocks. Coming home, the industry might have awarded you with some plaques, but in a way, I’m here to remind you that the streets are what kept your name alive. The legacy you built could never die and has been the topic of debate for “who started this drill wave?” No one can doubt the immense influence you and Rowdy Rebel have made on the Brooklyn drill scene and the artists within it, and for that, the flowers are endlessly deserved. There is an energy that surrounds the work you both do, so much so that it can never be imitated. You made the city lit again, and there’s no denying that. There is no question about what you mean to NYC or Brooklyn, but for some of us, you represent so much more than a newly freed artist. 

For all of us gritty Brooklyn kids, you paved the way for not only inspiration but also reminded the rap game that the greatest borough in the greatest city would never let up. For all the kids from the grimey 90s, you put them on the map and planted seeds for every new Brooklyn artist to be able to put their foot on the ground in the last six years and get busy. If you’re in the streets, then you know what G.P. (general principle) and street code are, and “doing six and never switching,” as Quavo put it, is at the pinnacle of the code. Bobby, you remain a prime example of how we move as New Yorkers and specifically as Brooklynites. The streets were counting down the days, and now you’re free, so let’s show the world what GS9 could do with the city in their palms. 

Peace & Blessings from a gritty Brooklyn Kid,

Money