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This Brooklyn breed sweet voiced, firey, man eating, boniqua, LambeCheecha can found all over the place droppin' some of the most passionate lyrics to heartache poems , to repressntin' her hood with vicious spits, to lettin e'erbody know who da boss is. When asked how she does it all, Lambe said, "iz all about the emotion...." Lambe spent alot of her middle school and high school years in programs that involved theater, chorus, and writing. She believes by being in such programs helped her with her craft by narrowing down exactly what her niche was. Able to pour hoardes of emotion into her pieces Lambe also finds that details are a key ingredient for a piece. She explains, "Make sure you always have your facts straight and stick to what you know. Sounds more natural that way, and genuine to the reader or listener." Always taking her time to perfect each peace Lambe is one who believes spoken word is an art that is a constant learning experience. "With each piece I've ever done, I always feel like my next one could be better. Practice does make perfect, but it is never mastered, because you are always developing as an artist." she commented "Doing spoken is not for everyone. It takes time and patience. Given the right motivation, it is a skill that can be obtained. But those with a true gift for doing this kind of art, will stand out and continue to grow. It doesn’t happen over night." For More from Lambe check out Multimedia and Poetry.
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Ode To Gentrification A.K.A. My Brooklyn Rant
by LambeCheecha
Copyright: © 2008
& there is nothing eccentric about you
Living on my street
I am BROOKLYN BORN
You're imported like Vermont trees
As far as the I can see
Back in the 60's & 70's
In Crown Heights
Where the racial riots broke out
You & yours were no where to be found
Jews and Blacks couldn't find common ground
Even though we all shared common ground
In the 80's
Remember when the rock hit the block
Black women forgot
Who raised them from seeds
Their babies born addicted to crack
The fathers nameless on birth certificates
Injecting wet with no regrets
Toothless smiles and EBT cards
Food stamps sold for half the dollar
Police wouldn't run up in my projects to get that collar
Stop right there
On the corner
I won't take one step further
In the 90's
They locked up Uzi
Weed was straight thragga
Jeff's graduation rate 30 percent
350 a month for project rent
Empty lots near empty lots
We walked for block & blocks
Where the Nuyos, Caribs, & Blacks thrived
Where Yusef Hawkins died
In Bensonhurst after twilight
I remember the marches
The tears my neighborhood cried
You & yours
Still no where to be found
Year 2000
Calling Brooklyn the "Impact Zone"
Push the niggas and spics right out of their homes
Even for so long this has been our home
The A train is a bit more crowded
We're feeling a bit more crowded
Uhaul trucks after uhaul trucks
Rent is now over 1300 bucks
White women walking their tiny dogs
With little dogs shoes
& sweaters on
In August ....
Condos built on top of another condo
My next door neighbor telling me to teach him the mambo
"mira meng .. im Puerto Rican .. not Cuban .. know the difference ..."
My whole block is white bohemians and hipster
It is not hip sir
To call me sister
Dreadlocks crackas
Riding on their scooters
Down Tompkins
Getting off the train at Clinton Washington
Now this all I see as far as I can see
Yuppie central A.K.A. what the fuck is going to happen to me
Remember when this was called
The Do-or-Die
Now its Bed-Stuy .. & Proud of it
& that shit don't even rhyme
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