Everyone loved the song at the end of Almonte’s most DEADASS video of 2017.
Let’s keep it real–Deebo Dioso can sonically enhance any of Almonte’s content.
And so much of Almonte’s audience finds themselves binge-listening to Deebo Dioso after hearing just a snippet of his sound in the end credits(people stick around for those)? Why?
“I think the subject matter of my music match the same as [Almonte’s] videos” Deebo Dioso says. “..sometimes not word for word but the vibe usually fits perfect.”
If you love Almonte’s visuals, you’ll most likely feel the same Deebo Dioso’s music. They’re two different artists that grew up in the same vibrantly dark conditions of East Harlem, just 5 blocks from each other. Naturally, their work compliments one another. They even worked on an urban martial arts web series together .
Gang violence, drug addiction, art, culture, family, spirituality, and activism are what give Harlem its cultural density. The east side contains a lot of urban decadence but also shares all the good that comes with still being Harlem. It is the birthplace of the Harlem Renaissance and a monumental location for Black leaders like Malcolm X to thrive. The pain of growing up in a toxic environment tends to make artists turn to their craft as a coping mechanism. Hip Hop and urban literature are two things misunderstood as being glorifying of violence. But in reality, these pieces are merely victory screams of being able to survive despite it all.
In “When New Yorkers Leave the Hood,” Almonte exposes the mixed emotions resentment can cause for friends in the hood.
In “Trust” Deebo Dioso tells a story we all resonate with, inside and outside of the hood. Broken Friendships.
Oh man, these n*ggas up to no good. You be a young n*gga makin sure the bros good. Next thing you know, Chinx shot in his own hood.”
Chinx was a popular rapper that was shot dead in his own neighborhood. And we all know what happened when Katt Williams returned to his hometown.
“When you finally escape this social prison [that is the Hood], your childhood friends are bound to feel resentment,” Almonte says. But in his skit, the character has a bittersweet love for his friends, side eyeing them and knowing they’re probably speaking ill of him out of fear of abandonment… so he reassures them of his friendship how? Returning to buy them chopped cheeses. Not gold chains, not taking them out to the club… but buying them a token of what they all shared culturally that you can only find done right in their hood. Deebo Dioso’s “Trust” embodies how this character feels on the inside, juxtaposing his outward actions to retain his acceptance in the hood. “What the f*ck wrong wit a n*gga, actin like they never get along with a n*gga.” The combination of Deebo Dioso and Almonte’s theme create a duality to show the Hood far from the monolithic, one-dimensional portrayal we are so used to seeing. The relationships between these people are multilayered and their emotions are complex. They say one thing and feel another. They feel more than one emotion at the same time. They aren’t just rage-filled, hypermasculine caricatures looking for a come up.
Only a few n*ggas i’d die for//
Brothers knocking on god door//
F*ck we calling these cops for//
N*gga they the reason we here//
My right hand on this Glock 4
N*gga they the reason we here//
We on em n*ggas like lock jaw, CHECK
On my deebo sh*t//
A n*gga tired of hearing that amigo sh*t//
Repping 3A on my trio sh*t//
And cutting n*ggas short on some chino sh*t// And the G’s know
All i hear is onomatopoeia// Show a little sign of gonorrhea// Sicker than the b*tches really thinking that they fly but not Aaliyah// N*ggas being b*tches like the n*gga Tyler got Madea// Owwww
I ain’t tryna shake yo hand// Hating n*ggas ain’t yo mans// I do what i do what i does and it ain’t no scam// Now they telling n*ggas they yo fam// Oh man
These n*ggas up to no good// You be a young n*gga making sure the bros good// Next thing you know Chinx shot in his own hood// And im another n*gga writing in a notebook// So i dont look//
Dolo (sh*t)// Its bloodsport on some bolo (sh*t)// This for them n*ggas on the low low// And dont know im jumpin n*ggas on some pogo (sh*t)//
A n*gga can’t keep holdin what i can’t maintain// Its when you getting paper n*gga everything change// So every motherf*cker that been hating on a n*gga when i see em imma hit em with the bang bang bang
It hurts the more i think about it// You p*ssy n*ggas don’t speak about it//
NO NO NO time to make peace about it// Cuz you p*ssy boy! and we be about it we on
Im on one i don’t trust these n*ggas x4
What the f*ck wrong with a n*gga// Acting like they never get along with a n*gga// Sh*tted on my mixtape now they wanna do a song with a n*gga// my n*gga my n*gga // Feelin like denzel in this b*tch yo// They tryna get to yo bread through a window// They treat me like bruh man from the 5th floor//
Coming in like homie// I really like the way you flowing// Ever since high school u been growing// I mean look at all the places u going// But one thing the whole team know is//
I be only riding for my n*ggas// Tryna be surrounded by the realest// Ya be thinkin ’bout the money feeding off the thousand dollar dealers// Till our people dying and we been surrounded by the killers// GOT DAMN
Shouts to my latinum n*ggas// All my latin n*ggas going platinum n*ggas// Love to the black real n*ggas// They say we monkeys with banana clips that’ll peel n*ggas//
God’ll never judge but he finna deal wit us// Represent the warriors and they reveal n*ggas// Rest in peace to tio but a n*gga still wit us// If it wasn’t for the spirit woulda tried to kill n*ggas//
What… yall n*ggas trippin like a westbrook interview// I mean where was the love when i hit rock bottom but i blow and im ‘pose to remember you//
Ya make a n*gga lose hope// Where the f*ck is yall when a n*gga too broke// Where the f*ck is yall when a n*gga lose folks// But wanna hit me up asap ‘cuz a n*gga too dope//
You MotherF*ckers is getting too close dont cross that line// Picture everything i saw at 9// Can’t deny the foreplay// Was 9 in 4th grade// A 9 and 4 gauge //Across that spine//
B*tch yup// If u wearin a vest// Then yo head and yo neck is finna be D.O.A// I told u n*ggas we dont play// Swore to my mother imma be ok//
She said “boy i don’t give a f*ck about these n*ggas// I wanna see you clown these n*ggas// They really thinking they it, I be ready to pound these n*ggas// Swam with the sharks so you finna drown these n*ggas//
‘Cuz u can’t keep holdin what you can’t maintain// Its wen you gettin paper n*gga everything change// So every motherf*cker that been hating on a n*gga when you see em better hit em with the bang bang bang// MY N*GGA