By Pendarvis Harshaw

West Oakland, CA. Beeda’s songs not only chronicle the times of the Town - they chronicle the lives of many young cats in the Town. Beeda - full gold grill, low Oakland As fitted, pushing the Night Blue 745 BMW that made the youngstas on the corner of Market and Mead put their lives on tivo. Beeda Weeda wanted me to acknowledge the kids with my camera. These are the same wild ass youngstas he addresses in his music. Later while discussing career moves, he threw a hollow threat out there about wanting to be a politician one day, almost on cue, when I asked him to identify his greatest nemesis, using the kids on the corner as his example- Beeda sincerely broke it down:

...to an outsider they might think I am promoting violence, or this and that, but really Im speakin the truth, so that maybe we can get some attention. it might sound harsh, but thats what really going on; so if you got a problem with it come help us do something about it cause these youngstas out here is really losing they goddamn minds...

Beeda Weeda is a comparably fresh face to Northern Californias roster of solid lyricists. But a couple spins of the globe and one album later, Beeda is feeling the age difference. Coming off the release of his first solo album, Turfology 101, on Clear Label/ PTB, Beeda Weeda’s perspective has slightly changed. His first single Turf’s Up is what the youngstas would call a slap out here. Its in constant rotation in the Bay’s radio stations.

His music appeals to both sides of an often turbulent lifestyle common to some juveniles in Oakland, Ca. His album is laced with tracks about the passing of falling soldiers, intermingled with celebratory songs such as On Like Shit, his second release. The up-tempo, catchy, song about the Northern Californian drug culture refers to all one needs to know about how to get on like shit:

Robotussin bo and sprite to wash down an e-pill, smoke some purple grapes and then the choice is yours, does it feel like a Hennessey Privilege heem night or a 1800 tequilla - the 18 night - it doesn’t matter because we always toast to the memory of a Mac named Dre.

Call it Hyphy Music, call it Gangsta rap, call it whatever you want - but this is how the youngstas live out here in Oakland, California. And, for those that don't know, this is one unwritten code they live by: 'Don’t listen to shit unless it got some bass in it, drugs and drank until they faint, and at the end of the day say a prayer for those who have passed away…'

Pendarvis Harshaw is a columnist for whatchsusay.com He is a writer, filmmaker and student at Howard University.