I'm Getting Old. Yes, I Know. For Lil' Kim Tells Me So.

Last weekend, somehow, I managed to break free from my Snuggie and get off the couch long enough to hit up a hood club in Brooklyn.

A quick primer on me and the club:

Those days are over. All of that getting dressed, standing in line (I haven't reached "baller status" where I get to cut the line to gain immediate access to the other side of the velvet rope), paying an expensive cover, buying overpriced drinks and dancing to only half of the songs the DJ plays week after week is just no longer appealing to me.

I'd much rather pull up a stool and post up at a well-stocked bar or attend an event at a nice, cushy lounge and engage in conversation over a glass of Grey Goose than get wild for the night at the club.

But every now and then, when I feel like I'm missing something, or a friend begs me to go out or I just need to prove to myself that I've still got it, I force myself to hit the club. And once I get there, like clockwork, I realize I'm not missing a thing and immediately begin to fantasize about laying on the couch in my Snuggie, eating a row of light-skinned Oreos.

Last weekend was no different.

The club, a smokey, laser light-filled catering hall, was just starting to fill up when I got there with my homie, Doug. We avoided the long line by arriving a little early.

We grabbed an overpriced drink from the makeshift bar and made our way through the fog machine induced haze and scoped out the place.

Five minutes, three yawns and an empty drink later, I was over it and ready to go home.

In an attempt to stay awake and not look lame, I pulled out my phone to tweet about how bored I was, which is lame in and of itself. But that didn't work.

It was going on 2AM and Twitter was dead. Just as I began to wish I were too, the DJ saved my life with a song:

"Big Momma Thang" by Lil' Kim featuring Jay-Z.



When that joint came on, Doug and I perked up and hit the dance floor.

Finally, something worth dancing too.

The song, off Lil' Kim's debut album Hardcore, reverberated through the catering hall club, sending my dancing feet into a frenzy.

Just as Jay-Z got to the middle of his verse, the DJ hit us with "No Time."



Aww shit. Now we're talking.

I did my signature two-step and slight dip to this one.

This song took me right back to my junior year in high school.

Oh and Remember the video? When Lil' Kim was slaying hoes in front of the famous escalators inside the World Trade Center (RIP).

Then, just when I thought it couldn't get any better, the DJ played the remix to "Crush on You."



I almost lost it. I danced even harder and even began to break a slight sweat.

Remember this video too? When Lil' Kim was rocking the colorful wigs?

As Doug and I cut the rug something wicked, I looked up to see we were the only ones dancing and singing along.

Everyone else was standing in the middle of the dance floor or holding up the wall with their arms folded and faces frowned up.

It was in that moment that I realized: I'm old.

You know how at a family reunion or backyard jammie jam when an oldie but goodie comes on and Uncle Cleophus and 'em stop what they're doing, get up from their seat and say, "oooo weee, this is my cut right here" and then take their fedoras off, wave them in the air and begin to dance with a beer in their hand?

Yup. That was me in the club dancing to 14-year-old Lil' Kim songs.

I am Uncle Cleophus.

The youngins were standing around looking at me and Doug like we grew two heads. What were they waiting for? A Nicki Minaj song instead?

Dear Young People:

Everything old becomes new again. No disrespect to Nicki Minaj, but she is merely a 21st century Lil' Kim. The tongue-in-cheek lyrics. The green wig. The "Massive Attack" video; it all screams Lil' Kim. Just like Kim stood on the shoulders of female emcees before her (Salt n' Pepa, Queen Latifah) without Kim, there would be no Nicki. Pay attention to this history lesson the DJ is giving you young whippersnappers - and take notes.

Sincerely yours,

Uncle Cleophus

When the DJ finished his tribute to Lil' Kim, Doug and I wiped the sweat from our brow, held our heads up high and left the club.

After I dropped him off home and began to daydream about the couch and my after-the-club snack, I opened the sunroof, rolled down all the windows, grabbed my iPod and played one more Lil' Kim song for the road.

Sure, I may be getting older, but at least I know what good music is. Hmph!



Music, as timeless as it is, has a way of making us show our age.

Play the right song and we're liable to inadvertently tell the world just how old we really are.

What old school hit really gets you going?

If you were at a club or a house party full of young heads, what song would tell them you were a little long in the tooth?

I'd love to hear your thoughts.