Deen hath no fury. That’s a lie.

I somehow ended up at a Pusha T concert over the weekend. This was not the plan, but it happened. Basically, I was watching LeBron eviscerate the Zombie Sonics in Game 5 the other night and like many other neutrals (read: Miami “Haters”), I got bored with the game and started discussing every other topic under the sun with one of my new friends. One of the topics was rap, specifically how DOM Kennedy’s latest effort just dropped that evening and whether it would be decent (it’s not). I mentioned in passing that Pusha T was performing and my new friend/fickle Zombie Sonics fan insisted that we should consider ditching the game and heading right over to concert if it was actually happening. So we harnessed the power of Al Gore’s greatest invention to confirm my statement – I was wrong, Pusha T was performing on Saturday. So said friend and I called some other friends and made plans to go on the spot.

I dig Pusha T’s music, but nothing about his catalog to date is enticing enough to commit to seeing him live. But new friends can be persuasive and I’ve been known to bitch about missing out on a Clipse concert in 2006 (Portland, OR: hipsters really, really, really loved coke rap. Never forget), so I figured “why the fuck not?” Hence,  we have the “running diary” of my Pusha T experience:

9:30 pm: My date just called me. She’s already there. We agreed to meet at 9:45 pm, but women never listen to me. SMH. Now I have to drive really fast to ensure that she doesn’t get tampered with. Warehouse Live is in a sketchy part of town.

9:45 pm: I’m there and parked. Right on time. As promised. Real nigga shit. I paid for parking though. That ain’t real. But I had a potential booty-hole tampering victim waiting for me, so I had to make the exception.

9:46 pm: Oh wait. She’s still looking for parking. WTF? She got here 15 minutes ago.


10:05 pm: Procured the infamous date. Also realize that I never emailed or called the new friend that convinced me that a Pusha T concert was a good idea. Shame on me. I blame my date. She has a nice ass. Fanute the distraction.

10:08 pm: Purchasing tix at the Box Office. Of course Pusha T didn’t sell out a Saturday night concert in Houston. Only YMCMB and Based Gawd can do that.

10:08 pm: Oh shit. This fuck nigga at the Box Office just played me. Shouting all loud “this card doesn’t work!” My date heard that shit. I just started sweating even more. Fuck this humidity. How the fuck does a grown ass man’s debit card cease working? Thank based gawd for credit cards and small mercies.

10:10 pm: Finally in. Air conditioning is a lifesaver. The local openers are still performing. FUCK. Call me an un-supportive ass, but I’m really only interested in seeing the headliner at concerts. In all my years on the planet, I’ve maybe seen one decent opener that also happened to be a local rapper. These guys are awful. Now I have to distract my date with drinks. In a recession. Ugh.

10:11 pm: Oh wait. My debit card works again. SMH. I should go slap that fuck cracka at the box office. No fucking couth or sense in his soul. Idiot.

10:13 pm: I always try to get to the venue 2 to 2.5 hours after the start time, but I’m beginning to realize that’s way too early. I’m going 3.5 hours late for my next rap concert.

10:20 pm: The crowd is pretty sparse right now, but there’s a surprisingly large number of really good looking women. Much prettier turnout than the ladies at the Phonte/9th concert a few weeks ago. But I didn’t have a date that night and I have one tonight. Perfect. Fuck everything.

10:30 pm: Holy shit this MC/Moderator dude is bad. The most boring dude ever. He’s flailing like a muthafucka outchea. Zero crowd response. But at least he’s wearing a nice Miami Marlins hat. I think I’ll get one of those .

10:35 pm: Wait a minute, someone is beat-boxing right now. I’m still bored, so I regale my date with shitty jokes and innuendo.

10:45 pm: More local rap. Some awful Tyga-esque tune about bitches going insane. Did I just hear a LeBron/ring punchline? Already? Its been 2 days! Damn. Rappers never chill.

10:55 pm: Why won’t this shit end? Each song just gets rapier and rapier. My date looks scared. These local rap dudes will be devoid of prosperity – unless “Creepwave” is the next movement up.

11:05 pm: The MC has been flailing for the last 5 minutes. Someone else just took over and is attempting to lead a YMCMB set singalong. No Wayne songs though. Maybe the DJ is aware of and sensitive to Wayne and Pusha’s “blog only” beef.

11:07 pm: What a wonderful idea. The DJ/MC have invited some girl onstage. Her ass is a separate entity. That thang was so huge. Huuuuuuuge. My date was totally cool with me ditching her to go get a picture. That’s how big it was. Too bad about the lady being shy right as I got to a decent spot for a picture. Tragic. I bet the onstage photographer (a Schoolboy Q doppelganger if I ever saw one. Pause) got some serious fap-worthy material while she was feeling frisky up there.

11:10 pm: Well I’ll be damned. I just found a Jesus piece pendant on the floor. LOLs. Kinda weird having a disembodied metallic Jesus head in my hands right now. No one man should have all that power. Maybe I’ll pocket it and turn it into a belt buckle, then ask women to kneel in my presence. I’m such a creep. I decided to do the right thing and take that shit to the bar/lost & found, since none of the shackle wearing Pusha T fans around me claimed the pendant.


11.12 pm: Best part of the night so far: this flyer by the bar indicates that Gangsta Gibbs will be in town on July 12. Awesome. There’ll be no running diary for that shit. I’ll be full of focus mane!

11:16 pm: Damn, I’ve just seen Alchemist, Scarface and Azealia Banks doppelgangers in quick succession. Maybe the 2nd-hand weed smoke is getting to me. Fake Azealia had gold fronts and a gut and for that I’m thankful, because if she looked more like real Azealia, I would have given serious consideration to ditching my date for her.

11:30 pm: Killa Kyleon is on stage, looking like a steroid addled JackThreads model in his trendy Native American print tank. Pause. Those are in this summer, ya know? Pause redux.

11:45 pm: Killa Kyleon is actually a pretty dope live performer. Add him to the list of rappers that have done justice to a Lex Luger/Trap style beat in the last two years. His freestyle over Jeezy’s “Balllin” is a highlight. He closes his set out with the Luger beat he paid for (“Bodies Hit The Floor,” aka, I’m a rapper and I liked all those shitty Nu-Metal bands from the turn of the century), but he seems to run outta gas by the 2nd hook. I’m disappointed. Do less weights and more cardio bro.

12:00 pm: Shit. It’s midnight. I guess that means this concert is the only activity for the night. So I figure it’s time to break the seal – damn it – this fucking guy violated man code and didn’t leave the required urinal space. SMH. I should have peed on his shitty sneakers.

12:05 pm: The shitty MC is back, but before he can annoy us again – and there are a lot more people to annoy now, the place definitely filled up a bit – the DJ launches into a Mannie Fresh set. Apparently, Elvis Freshly is in the building. I’d pay to see a Mannie Fresh set. A premium even. The set killed by the way. I spent the non-twerking parts convincing my date that Mannie Freshdergast is a genius. She was too drunk to disagree. Also had to teach her how to “cook” Lil B’ style in order to ward off some drunk thirsty nigga. You can’t outcharm me bro – hoes love me.

12:30 pm: “FRAUD NIGGAS, Y’ALL NIGGAS, THAT’S THAT SHIT I DON’T LIKE…”

12:31 pm: Yep, Pusha Ton his here in all his struggle braided glory. He’s pretty into his delivery. Energetic performer. I approve greatly. He should consider adding backup dancers. I notice he’s wearing a ton of chains and pendants – maybe that Jesus piece I found belongs to him. If that’s the case, then I need to go get it back and put it on eBay.

12:40 pm: Wait a minute. Some guy just asked me if I found a Jesus pieceearlier. I respond in the affirmative and he tries to start a friendly conversation, but I’m really into this performance of “Grindin,” so I point towards the bar and fanute on with my night. This ain’t Late Night with Nigga Fallon, nigga – Pusha T is rapping right now.

Aight – let’s fanute the setlist dump – I may hang out near the back of the audience when I go to concerts, but I’m never too cool to get my money’s worth by getting into it:

Set List:

I Don’t Like Remix (Pusha claims Houston’s own Lil’ Keke inspired his verse on this)
Blow (I don’t think people knew this song)
Cook It Down (shouts to UGK and Bun B)
So Appalled
Grindin’ (came a little earlier than I thought it would)
Popular Demand (got an even bigger cheer than Grindin – weird)
Runaway (booooooooooo – fuck this shit)
My God (with a cool interpolation of Jay-Z’s “Where I’m From” beat – nice – or let’s give that love to Fat Joe’s “BadBad Man” instead – definitely not Diddy’s Angels)
Mercy (funny thing – the DJ at my favorite Midtown spot has Pusha’s verse cut out of this shit. People only care about the 2Shackles verse anyway)
Trouble On My Mind (My date claims to hate this song – mainly because she hates Tyler, the Creator. She also claims that she’s high from the 2nd hand weed smoke. I shrug both times)
Exodus 23:1 (cue a lotta heavy neck-snapping – this shit works well loud)

1:35pm: Yep. Pusha T closed with his non-diss, diss song. The masses seemed sated. I thought it was all a little too efficient, which was to be expected given that most of the songs he performed have one Pusha T verse. I got really sad that he didn’t come out for an encore or do his verse from Bodywork. After all, the DJ had Juicy J’s hook playing as we filed out. But I realize that you can’t get everything you want. Also don’t know whether to be surprised or impressed that he only used two Clipse songs. I imagine he could easily extend his setlist by another half hour if he chooses to mine that part of his catalog.

All in all, a good night. Maybe I’ll do this shit again sometime. Definitely not for the Gibbs show though. Multitasking isn’t my strong suit once triple-time rhymes enter the equation…

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