Running From Cops…A Hip Hop Odyssey
Rast RFC shares the story of his come up in the gritty streets of New York City.
Before I go into a specific incident that scarred me for life, I feel it is necessary to explain how karma played a huge part in this life-changing event.
My brother and I would bicker back and forth over bullshit; fighting like cats and dogs in the graffiti covered bedroom we shared in the Bronx. One day we were fighting and he bruised my ego pretty badly. At that time I had various guns in the house and that day I pulled one out, right in front of my mother, and placed it directly on his chest and pulled the trigger. I am brought to tears when I write about this…Luckily, there were no bullets in the chamber. But as he left the apartment, I shot at him out the window. I nearly killed my own brother. I am so ashamed of this fact. There is no excuse or explanation that can do this injustice justice.
About a week later, me and some of the crew were in the Village. I was 14 at the time and draped in some crazy ill Tommy Hilfiger print button-up. I had just come from hittin’ up a local liquor store and I was walking down West 3rd Street with a huge bottle of Absolut Vodka down my pants. I was lagging behind everyone because I was limping due to the bottle. As we reach McDougal Street I notice like 15 dudes from WON Team (a bunch of crazy, mostly Spanish and black kids from the LES). Now my crew didn’t even notice that this was the main crew we had beef with at the time and they didn’t know that my guys were RFC, so they walked right past each other — until they saw me. Everybody recognized me wherever I went because I had long dreadlocks. This was not always a good thing. I remember looking into the eyes of one of the WON Team kids that I knew from when I was like, ten years old. That’s when he pointed me out to another kid who started viciously slashing my face.
My face changed forever. I was deeply traumatized by this because I was always praised for my looks as a “pretty boy.” I even turned down many modeling opportunities because back then I felt that male models were “pussies.” I regret those decisions now. The whole crew went insane after I was cut. My man even slashed one of the WON Team’s girlfriends in the face because of what happened to me. Now, as I reflect back on how deeply and psychologically affected I was by my face being slashed, I can only imagine how this innocent girl must feel living with such a severe facial scar. Even to this day, as a professional, I wonder if people look at me and say, “Look at him, he’s probably been to jail,” or, “I wonder what he did to deserve that?” The truth is, I didn’t deserve this. Nor did that innocent young girl, but it happened. And now we must live forever with these reminders of a dark past that stares back at us in the mirror.
After I got cut, I became even more of a “menace to society,” cutting, stabbing and shooting everything. I just didn’t care anymore. My drug use increased, I was smoking PCP every day and I carried a gun and a razor wherever I went.