Life always has a way of throwing you for a loop. Just when you think you may have someone or something figured out after a few glances or a few listens -- BAM! Life hits you with the unexpected. Take this nondescript neighborhood as an example. Though it’s only a stone’s throw away from the infamous Jack's Quarters section of Bossier City, the area is mad quiet - dead, even. Duplexes and single family homes line both sides of what could easily be mistaken for Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood. But there will be no friendly, old White cat with a penchant for rocking “suspect” sweaters answering this door. No. Instead, you’ll be greeted by a defiant hardhead with a love for anything that’s name brand.
Decked out in an orange sweatshirt, matching socks, blue jeans, and a multi-colored fitted, the slim and lanky Polkk peers through the glass and answers the door. “What’s up, homie,” he greets with that signature gold grill smile, stepping to the side for his guest to enter his home. Holding their infant child in one arm and the phone in the other hand, wifey acknowledges the guest just long enough to give an unconcerned “Hey” before diving back into her world of girl-talk and laughter.
For all the rowdiness that he displays on tracks, things are quite tame within these four walls. No one’s around to talk about the latest ho who got flipped, no suped-up vehicle is blasting a hazardous level of bass, and the house is noticeably absent from the distinct aroma of--ahem--”greenery”. No, it’s just Polkk on one side of the crib, going to work on a video game, while his lady sits on other, chilling together. It’s almost a scene out of The Cosby Show.
You’d be hardpressed on just what type of person to pinpoint Polkk as. Some, after watching his YouTube vids, may want to call him an ignorant troublemaker for the crazy behavior and sometimes threatening remarks that he lets loose. And Hip-Hop purists may want to dismiss him as yet another fly-by-night “ringtone rapper”, after hearing any one of the club tracks that he and his squad are known for. But what the judges fail to recognize is, different situations bring out different behaviors. Take the political/social commentary of Ice Cube, the street attitude of Soulja Slim, the asshole-by-nature comedy of Katt Williams, and even the eccentric flip-flop behavior of The Game, and you pretty much round out the makings of Polkk.
Things to know about Bossier City: The police over there have a hard-on for pulling you over for the slightest infraction of the law; the layout of the town is a complete mess that will have you lost should you miss your turn (Best watch those street signs...If you know what I mean.)-- Oh, yeah. If you’re an aspiring rapper from there, expect for the boys across the Red River to have a blank look when you tell them where you’re from.
“People used to look at me like, [Where the] fuck this lil’ dude come from spittin’ this muthafuckin’ hard,” Polkk says, smiling as he walks down Memory Lane. “And I always ended my sentence with, ‘Lil’ Polkk, Jack Quarters, signin’ off.’ And they’d be lookin’ like, ‘What the fuck? I didn’t even know no nigga from Bossier could come up with a rap.’” He then quickly adds, “But I got a lot of respect in Shreveport, ‘cause I’m the only Bossier nigga you really see walkin’ around here - niggas know where he from - and still ain’t got no problems.”
Realizing that music was his calling, Polkk would soon link up with a crew of like-minded individuals and unleash a new sound onto the masses, with people outside of their age group following suit. But, as they say, all good things must come to an end, sooner or later.
“They stopped putting me on tracks,” says Polkk, with all sincerity in his voice. “I couldn’t buy a track.” The “they” that he speaks of is Throw’d Thankin’ Entertainment - a local powerhouse of talent that was remarkably started by then-teenagers who were still in high school. Headed by Junior Pymp, the multi-member crew, be it good or bad, is touted as being the forerunners of the Jig craze that has inundated the Shreveport scene. Before being Soulja Rock, Polkk, along with SRE members Wild Yella, Lil’ Uzey and producer Big 50 were a part of the crew and played a major role in the success of Kingz of The Club Vol. 1, which included the crowd-favorites “Lock Up”, “I’m Rollin’”, and “Dog Azz”. But when the stage lights faded and the crowds went home, things weren’t always on the up and up. Feeling blacklisted, Polkk would go on to defect from the house that he helped build when Money Hungry Records came calling. But, like a man, he doesn’t shy away from the fact that some of the cracks may have been his own.
“At the time, I was doing a lot of hustlin’, too,” he admits. “I wasn’t really into that studio shit. But then, when I did go to the studio, it was like, What’s my purpose of stop hustlin’ to come back over here for? We doing shit over here.” Realizing that his words could be taken the wrong way, Polk adds, “Pymp still my dog.”
Chameleons are famously regardedfor being able to blend in with an array of surroundings with ease. The only problem with chameleons is, they change so many colors that you can’t really tell which is their true state. Perhaps Polkk needs to be featured on a segment of The National Geographic Channel. You put him in an intelligent conversation, homeboy talks as if he just came from lunch with Cornel West. You include him in some ignorant ish, homeboy acts as if he was raised on Jerry Springer. And there are times when it seems as if he’s wrestling with wanting to be the bigger man but, at the same time, wanting to be the rider that his team needs for him to be, with mixed results.
“I used to,” he replies solemnly when asked if he ever dumbed down his lyrics to make them more pleasing to the audience. “I feel like I did at one point in time. That’s when I was with [Throw’d Thankin’ Entertainment], when all that Jig shit started comin’ out.” An outside source revealed that back in day, Polkk would deliver a verse that would have your jaw connected to the floor of the studio. And any quick search on YouTube will back up that statement. Think B.G. with a dash of Nasir Jones. Yes, he’s brash with his, but the way he puts certain words together gives you a hint of what he’s capable of. While crewmembers Yung Show and Wild Yella would rather dwell on the superficial side of things (This writer has mad love for them, but truth is truth.), Polkk is more versatile with the bars. And he can be just as versatile with his moods.
Over time, Polkk has been involved with an assortment of “beefs” with local rappers, all at the side of Wild Yella. The most well-known would probably be the one involving Hurricane Chris and DJ Hollyhood Bay Bay, which included the “Fuck Bay Bay” diss track. When asked if he regretted making the track, a pause is followed by a laugh, as he replies, “Yeah, in a way, I do. In a way, I don’t. In a way, I do because, you know, that was childish. Everything could’ve been handled better than that...On the other hand, fan base--,” he than puts his thumb in an upward motion, making a plane sound. “It’s a win/lose situation, either way it go.”
“Really, with the [Hurricane] Chris situation, too, I don’t even got no beef with him no more. I’m a grown man now. I just had two kids. I ain’t got time for that shit no more. I’ll leave that to
them other niggas,” he states with disdain in his voice. But it seems that the higher road is only taken for a couple of steps before he’s back at it again (Read “Point ‘Em Out”.). While his loyalty to the one he calls a brother is commendable, it has some seeing it as follower behavior. Keeping it strictly music, the name SRE alone is automatically attributed to Wild Yella, anyone else’s name is completely secondary. If it’s in the cards for Yella to be the breakout star that everyone is looking for him to be, you can rest assured that he’s going to be the litmus test for his crew to pass. For related examples, see T.I. and PSCor Nelly and The St. Lunatics.
“I been out for a minute,” he says. “And me personally, I don’t need nobody. I don’t need to be in nobody’s shadow.. But Yella [is] my dog. He hot. I can’t take that from him. A lot of people-- Man, it’s just-- If they feel like I’m livin’ in somebody’s shadow, they’ll see when my CD drop. I’ll put it like that.” Based on the pauses, it seems that this isn’t the first time that he’s had to reaffirm that he’s his own man.
“Politics is crazy. I feel like all that shit [is] built on White people.”
This is Polkk at his best - by himself, free from the adlibs and two cents of those who could derail his train of thought with their thuggery. “Look at our people. That’s why we separated like we is,” he declares, laying out the clear difference between one neighborhood and the rest. “You got [afffluent Shreveport neighborhood] Cross Lake - it’s a few houses, but they livin’ good. Then, you got Lakeside. As soon as you leave Cross Lake, you got Queensborough. Look at how they livin’... I wish it was a way I could bring my people up. White people don’t wanna see that happen. Fuck it. Black people need to open they eyes. Stop takin’ what you can get. Get what you can take.”
Beneath all the the bullshit - the unnecessary “beefs”, the odes to pricey clothes and liquor - there lies a rebel with something to say and means of saying it. In the first interview with this magazine, Polkk made a comment about Rap being a blessing to Black youth, being that the opportunites for them are limited. A year later, he stands firm in his statement: “It really ain’t, mayne. Prime example: [Incarcerated CEO of Money Hungry Records] Lo-Key. Lo-Key [is] good. He a good nigga, mayne. Kind-hearted, a loving nigga. But he gotta eat. So, he gotta do what he gotta do to eat, and White people look at him like he just an animal...So, me, personally-- I ain’t even gon’ say that on no tape,” he says, catching himself when speaking about the CEO convicted of drug charges. Indeed, Rap is a blessing, but it’s not one that he wants his children to fall into, saying, “Hell naw. My son better be a singer It’s too many snakes in the Rap game. Like, right now, I don’t who to trust. Supposed to have a manager...might not have a manager. One thing about the Rap game: Everybody [is] out fo something.” You’ve got to respect a young cat who cares enough to speak on the world he lives in.
“The only reason why I care is them,” he states, speaking of his children. “Sometimes, I hate I even had kids. Not because of my kids, it’s just I hate I had kids to be born in this muthafucka. That’s why, as soon as I get my money, puooom! Call me actin’ funny, say I done left the ‘hood-- whatever. I’m runnin and ain’t lookin’ back!”
Yeah, Life has a way of throwing you for a loop. Just when you think you may have someone or something figured out after a few g,lances or a few listens -- BAM! Life hits you with the unexpected...But you know what? Sometimes, it’s good to be shown that you were wrong.
