‘I Remember You, Homie’

Robert Hijar, 20, who performs as MC Boulevard, is a rapper and singer who lives in Highland Park. He is studying psychology at Glendale Community College and hopes to become a youth or gang counselor. He has been writing songs and performing since he was 14. “My lyrics come from experiences that I’ve had, inspired by different people I’ve met during my life. . . . I try to stress the fact that gang violence isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when we were young. We’ve seen it as part of our lives, but there are other things besides gangbanging. There are other ways to escape this lifestyle.” This song, “I Remember You, Homie,” is a homage to a friend who was killed two years ago in a drive-by shooting.

I remember when we were just a couple of mocosos (brats)

causing trouble all the time and getting caught we were babosos (jerks)

But it was fun and we had so many good times.

Me and you, we put our troubles behind.

It was the two of us kicking it day and night,

looking forward to the chance that we would get in a fight.

Toe-to-toe street-boxing putasos cada dia (punches every day)

then we met up with some vatos (dudes) that belong to a pandilla (gang).

They hit us up.

“Where are you from?”

I said, “Nowhere man.”

He replied real quick and said, “Get jumped into our gang. Nosotros controlamos aqui chavalas (We control this turf, girls). . . .”

I looked at my carnal (brother) , my homie, my dog.

Before I had a chance the gangster hit him with the log . . . .

They jumped me from behind; I tried to hold my ground.

Before I knew it, man, my . . . body went down.

In a daze, de verdad no mi recuerdo (I really don’t remember),

All I could remember was my homie sufrendo (suffering) .

It only lasted about a minute or two,

but to me it seemed like it would never be through.

After they rushed us, they came and shook our (hands)

Now they respect us; before they despised us

We’re in a gang now, pues ni modo (well, too bad)

Me and my homie became two down cholos.

I remember you, homie. . . .

Una noche loca fin de semana (A crazy weekend night) ,

I was cruisin’, bumping Santana

That night, tenia mal sentido (I had a bad feeling)

like someone would die or end up all torcido (torn up)

I thought I was tripping so I got onto the highway.

Left L.A. and headed to the Valle.

Got there, the homie was waiting for me.

He never let me down; he was a down homie.

I picked him up and headed to the spot.

On the way over there I told him what I thought.

He said, “Ay, carnal, no tes preocupes, (Hey, don’t worry) brother.”

Nothing could happen when we are down with each other.

I felt much better when we got to the boardwalk

I could hear the people there bumping the boombox.

Seen all kinds of glittering lights. Man, it was sparkling.

Ranflas (cars) to the side made it hard to find parking.

Finally we spotted one and parked my ranfla.

Soon as we came they said, “What’s up? Que pasa?” . . .

Then all of a sudden we seen another gang.

Driving up slower, everybody hit the floor.

The shotgun it was: Bang, bang, bang,

I let out a roar because tenia dolor (I was hurting)

I seen my homeboy dying, man

I was crying, holding him tight,

because I was trying to keep him a-live,

so the Lord wouldn’t take him.

His heart stopped beating so I started to shake him

I said, “Please don’t die on me, carnal. If you do then everybody van a pagar (will fight)

He responded gently, gently as a dove.

He said, “Take care of my hefa (woman) ‘cause it’s her that I love,”

Man, I went crazy.

What would you do?

if you seen your tightest homie die in front of you?

I remember you, homie.