I remember a brief moment where my brothers and I had to become secretive about our rap intake, our parents growing concerned about the violence of it all. It felt a little heavier to rap along to songs about guns and death. My mother began to eavesdrop on the music I was taking in, cutting eyes at anything with a black and white striped “PARENTAL ADVISORY” sticker on it. I was her youngest child and it was still the spring. She did not yet know that she would be gone.
