Toby T hangs out with Ghostface Killah

The following story was dictated, not read.

Story Time with Toby T:
Toby T hangs with Ghostface Killah

Before there was a show, before there was any talk of a show, there was this kid named Downey…

He paints a brief picture of a college friend with Aspergers Syndrome.

…starting a Facebook group called “Bring Ghostface to MCLA,” and he sent me a request to join the group. Now, I’m a big Ghostface Killah fan, but I was like “no way is Ghostface gonna’ come to MCLA.” I just found it too funny a person like Downey would not only listen to Ghostface Killah, but like him enough to start a group to get him to MCLA. He’s like, a random artist for someone like Downey. I thought it was a joke, so I ignored it.

Well, three months later or something like that, I’m driving home from work and on my way home, my buddy, who was still going to MCLA, calls me and says, “Ghostface Killah is gonna’ be at MCLA tonight.” I’m like, “are you serious?” Downey did it. He got Ghostface to MCLA. How random is that shit? This socially-awkward kid who no one really thought much of was able to nail that down.

He started the buzz, and when the MCLA Student Activities Center saw how much people were interested in getting him there, they took steps to make it happen. And when I heard that, I just continued driving on to MCLA. I’m like, “I’m going to this show.” I’m making this.

Being a freshly-graduated alumnus, I got into the show for free, so now I’m at a Ghostface Killah show for free. There’s a big crowd already there so I’m not as close to the stage as I want to be. The show had not started, in fact; the show was late. Word is, the DJ got lost or something trying to find the place, which makes sense because this place is in the middle of the damn mountains.

So an hour goes by and people start leaving. I make my way right up to the front of the stage. An hour and a half goes by, and finally Ghostface Killah comes out on the stage, and is like, “Yo, our fucking, piece of shit fat-ass DJ is late. We’ve been here, you’ve been waiting. When he walks out on stage, boo his ass. Just boo him hard!”

And so this big, fat, white DJ dressed head to toe in fuckin’ Lakers gear walks up on stage, and everyone just goes “BOO! BOO! You fucking piece of shit, BOO!” and he looks all sad and goofy-lookin’. He saw Ghostface and knew he was in the right place.

So they start the show, an hour and a half late (at least), and now I’m right up front, and he starts rocking out, just rolling through a bunch of different pieces, putting his own words on tracks, going through some different solo work and just giving a real solid mix of shit. He brought a bunch of bitches up on stage, and all these chicks I knew from school were grinding up on stage. Shit was cool.

And then I see this little kid, my old weed dealer, get up on stage and he’s like ‘la la-la la la!’ Well, security grabs him up mad-quick, manhandles his ass and just drags him off stage so violently and unnecessarily. Just drags him away. And I heard, after the show, that they handcuffed this dude and brought him outside.

Now where we are on campus, we go outside and there’s a roof of a building, and there are flights of steps that go up around the building’s side. You’re up there. It’s kind of cool architecture. So they take him out there, and he just starts running, up the stairs, in the handcuffs, and he fucking trips and takes the ill tumble, down the steps, just fucking himself up real good on those concrete steps.

I didn’t see that, but I heard about that afterwards. Meanwhile, I’m in the show, just enjoying myself. Ghostface only does like a 45-minute set, and word is he got like 20-Gs to play. Imagine that, you get out on stage to spit some rhymes for 45-minutes and get twenty-thousand dollars. I imagine it had something to do with the DJ being late, but dude’s getting old, his time is valuable.

Show ends, I meet up with my boys and chill out. It was a solid show, not the best concert I ever been to, you know, but I’ve been listening to this stuff forever. Always like Ghostface, but I love it when the gang gets together. In any case, we decide to go to the bar later on that night. My friend and I end up going to the Pitcher’s Mound; I used to bounce there, and it’s right by the school.

We’re walking there, and I see, sitting in the parking lot, this dark green Escalade, and I think to myself, ‘what if Ghostface is in there.’ I was just joking myself. We get there and it’s fucking crowded! Like, crowded for a Thursday (and it is never crowded on a Thursday). I make my way through the crowd, my friend and I are both pretty big guys, you know, kind of pushing our way through. We got right up to the bar, and I sit down. I’m ordering a drink, and I turn to my left, and swear to god, right there, sitting to my left, was Ghostface Killah. Just chillin’, sipping on a drink.

He was drinking some kind of mixed drink and it was red. I don’t know what it was. When I saw that he was next to me, I ordered two shots of tequila and offered him one, and he took a shot with me. Then he asked me what I wanted, and I was like, “you know, I’m fine with beer.” He was like, “get these guys a pitcher of beer.”

We were just drinking and shooting the shit; lots of people were coming up to him and thanking him. There was this one dude who came up to him on some real dick-riding shit. He was like “I’m your biggest fan, I have all your albums, I’m a producer, you should let me get your manager’s number and this and that…” and you could tell Ghost just wanted to be left alone.

We finish our drinks, and before I get up to go I turn to him and say, “Hey dude, if you ain’t trying to go home just yet, I’m about to go to my boy’s apartment. We’re gonna’ pick up some more booze, and we’re gonna’ roll up a blunt, you know.” And so I give him the address on Blackington Street. “If you want!” And he was like “Aight, thanks.” Now in my head I’m thinking, ‘there is no way he’s gonna’ show up.’ He’s not gonna’ fucking show up, but why not?

From there, I go with my friend and pick up a thirty-rack from his house, and then we pick up a blunt, and some pot, and we start walking towards Blackington. As we approach, we look over and see a big green Escalade rolling towards us down the street, parking right on the side of the road, and out pops Ghostface and his posse.

And he had a bunch of older white chicks with him, like in their mid-thirties; you know, like fucking, like it was weird. There were his height men (who were on stage with him) and then his manager, a couple of other dudes and then a few of these older white chicks. All of them there in that Escalade, except the manager who had a Cadillac Deville.

And that kid, the one who was dick-riding Ghostface Killah at the bar, followed them over to where we were and walks up to us and says, “Yo, you guys have to let me smoke with Ghostface Killah. I’m his biggest fan, you have to let me in, like yadda-yah,” and my friend who’s got a mouth on him is just like “Yo, fuck you; you’re a dick-riding bitch. Get your bitch-ass out of here or we fuck you up.”

I wasn’t gonna’ curse the kid out. I was just looking at him like ‘come on, are you serious, dude?’ Like, ‘why are you dick-riding?’ But instead my boy just goes off on this kid, and then the dude runs over to Ghostface Killah and tells him that my friend was calling him a bitch. So Ghostface Killah walks up to my boy, right in his face, and immediately his boys surround my boy and Ghostface is like “what you say about me? What you say?”

It got serious mad quick. It was getting real, so I had to step up and separate my boy and Ghostface Killah, and straight-up get in the middle of that. I’m not gonna’ let my boy get his ass beat. So now I’m breaking up what could be a big ass fight with Ghostface and his crew.

It was just me. I step in, and just pull out the bag of weed, unravel it and say “Listen, no one’s calling anyone a bitch; we’re talking to this stupid mothafucka right here, not you. We came here to smoke this. I got the weed, I got the blunt, just come inside and drop this shit, or you know, just fuckin’ leave. And Ghostface is like “alright, you make a good point. I know this kid, you know; when he was talking with me in the bar, like yadda-yah… let’s go inside.”

So we’re walking up, and that kid tries to follow us in, and Ghost’s boys just put the hand on him and are like “get the fuck out of here,” and sent him on his little bitch-ass way. The rest of us walk up and knock on my friend’s door. Now he looks a little tired. I tell him “I hope you don’t mind if I brought some people over.”

“Are you serious, who’d you bring over?” And Ghostface walks in with his boys. “Oh, Oh! Welcome! This is my place, welcome!” So we walk in and make ourselves comfortable, and I crack the Dutch. I break up some bud and start twistin’ this up. Well, word immediately spreads out (being a small college town in the mountains) that Ghostface Killah is on Blackington. All of a sudden a hundred people show up, and as people are coming in, some are giving me their pot to roll the blunt in.

“Oh shit, is that the blunt you’re gonna’ smoke with Ghostface? Here, take some of mine!” And so this turns into a fucking cannon, and there’s a lot of pressure because there’s only one blunt, and you know I’m twisting this up for Ghost. The pressure was on, but I twist up this massive blunt, and it was perfect. Light it up, pass it around, and we kind of move into the “beer pong” room. Ghostface kinda’ just picks up one of the ping pong balls, and we start playing beer pong.

Smoking blunts and playing beer pong with Ghostface fucking Killah. Everyone is partying and having a good time. Mad people were there, and that motherfucker was not even trying to go anywhere. He fuckin’ straight-up chilled out with us until five in the morning, at least. 5AM. We were hanging out outside, dude didn’t have to be anywhere, he just made 20-Gs. Just taking it easy. The fraternity on campus came over to the party and made Ghostface an honorary brother of the fraternity. Brother Ghost.

The one thing I look back on and regret was not getting a picture. I know throughout the whole night people were coming up to him and getting his picture, trying to dick-ride him and shit, and he really seemed to be bothered by it. I could have talked about my work as well, could have pushed my shit on him too. We talked for a long time about shit, just general shit like girls, joking about this and that, and I was talking about certain albums by him I really liked, certain songs. His music.

I think he was impressed because I was quoting some of his lines and shit. Anyone has to be into real fans, the genuine fans that know his shit and know what material is actually good and bad, because everyone puts out bad songs. Very few don’t put out bad songs. Usually, popular songs are not liked by the artists themselves, you know, and the opposite goes for the ones not usually talked about. It’s good to say “I really like that song,” and have it really mean something to the artist.

So that was quite possibly one of the best concert experiences of my life. I’ve talked about it with other people who’ve been there, and when I do, it’s like reliving the experience all over again. A friend of mine from MCLA who now lives in California came into town and knocked on my door, and it was a whole different story. We both went to MCLA, and bumped into a few people, and the story just came up.

“You remember playing beer pong and smokin’ with Ghostface Killah?”

Yeah, in 2008, if not 2009. I got an autograph and the bag of weed I rolled the blunt out of. Got it in a jewelry box somewhere. His autograph looks like gibberish, but I can’t make that up. I couldn’t make it out the first time; it looked like a scribble, but over time I found the right angle and was like “oh, there it is.”

That was story time, with Toby T. See you next time.