"Pimp: Reflection of My Life ": (J.U.M.P. Interstate N Urban Legends)

By Noble Dee

In our society today, although used out their original contexts, the words Pimp and Pimpin have been embraced whole-heartedly by todays hip hop generation and frequently used in slang to describe a motif of a newly set standard of flamboyant living.
However, in his debut release, Donald Ray Lavan (AKA Noble Dee) provides the true definition of both words, separating the real and the facts from the faade and the fiction of todays controversial terminology. Best of all, he describes in very minute details, what the Game (Pimpin) was like for him in his era the 1960s to Y2K (The New Millienium).
In this tell all non-fiction: Noble Dee illustrates, in a very blaxploitation mannerhis personal existence in the game. Not only does he exploit his successes, he also exposes the very grim details of the life; both in tones whereas you the reader bask in his glory, and share his pains; the pain of possibly regret in the life that he cherished for almost four calendar decades.
Wholeheartedly, Noble Dee expresses how his own glorification of the game, indirectly allured his first born daughter into a position to be manipulated and exploited by pimps, just as he had manipulated and exploited so many daughters throughout his 35 years plus career.
Not since Robert Beck revealed to the masses the vivid street Realities of a Pimps Life in his book Pimp: The Story of My Life By Iceberg Slim has the entrenching truth behind the lifestyle-termed pimpin been exposed to this degree. Thus, the primary title Pimp:Reflections of My Life.

www.JumpInterstateN.biz

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781477279328

Book preview

"PIMP:

REFLECTION

OF MY LIFE"

NOBLE DEE

33232.jpg

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

J.U.M.P. Adv. & Ent.

P.O. Box 1287 , Stockton, CA 95201 www.jumpinterstaten.biz

Phone: [phone]

© 2011 by Noble Dee & J.U.M.P. Adv & Ent. All rights reserved.

edited by Tara Lynn Scott of (J.U.M.P.)

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/28/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7129-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7126-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7932-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012919876

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Preface

Introduction: San Quentin Expose The Writer Within

Reflection One

In The Beginning

Keeping It Pimpin’

Making The Grade

Go West Young Man, 11Th Is Alive

Gee Money

One Moment Of Serenity

Ism Check

Reflection Two

Hollywood Hollywood

Break The Hoe’s Plate Pimp

One Monkey Stops Nothin’

In Hollywood You Never Know

A Dark Cloud Over Hollywood

Above The Law

Reflection Three

On Top Of My Game

New York State Of Mind

Eight Million Stories

Reflection Four

Do You Know The Way To San Jose?

I Really Know My Way To San Jose: Another Knock!

I Got This Pimpin’ Covered

Tried . . . , And Tested True

Three Star Bar, Once Again

Reflection Five

Getting Ready For The Big Apple

My Dirty Black Female

Harvest Season

That Female

Reflection Six

Welcome To The East Coast Homie

Young California Pimpin’

Reflection Seven

New York City, New York

Nikki Meets Fleetwood

New York’s Finest K-9 Unit

Fleetwood’s Great Escape

Reflection Eight

In A New York Minute

City With No Pitty

Reflection Nine

It’s Been A Long Time Motion

What Goes Around, Comes Around

Damn, My Li’l Baby . . . Game Struck

Inn Too Deep

Spread Your Wings And Fly

Apples Don’t Fall Far From The Tree

A Final Thought . . .

In Conclusion

Before I Go

‘Til The End Of Time

From The Cradle To The Grade

The Best Is Yet To Come

Glossary

In Memory Of

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Sunrise: October 6, 1929

Sunset: December 27,2012

Dedicated to My Mother Otha Lee McDonald

Noble Dee

Acknowledgments

In your hands, thus . . ., the finish product! Volume 1—Reflections of My Life in its completed form is transcribed from various times over a three decades career as a pimp. However, I would not have made it this far without the history that this "SELF-PUBLISHED" endeavor encompasses.

There is a long line of people that I honestly recognize as a participant whose various forms of contributions made this possible. Be it as small as a word of encouragement, to the various levels of moral support, to those whom assist me in refreshing my remembrance—by journeying with me back down memory lane, to all those who partaken in the physical labor.

To ALL of you who contributed in any productive way; I’d like to say . . . , Thank you for your perspective support!

First and foremost, in any great accomplishment such as the completion of my personal dream—this book; as a man it was a MUST for me to satisfy my deepest yearning; seeking the needed help from my personal Spiritual Source.

Therefore, before I can proceed any further, I gratify that MUST; by giving the utmost Praise and Thanks to Absolute . . . , ALLAH (God)!

Without the Light and Guidance from my unseen Spiritual force; Noble Dee is no one, and would not have been able to deliver these REALTIES of my life to you my Dear Reader(s).

Now, in this worldly modus operandi, and its physical essence; there would not have been a Donald Ray Lavan or my altered-ego [Li’l Bo Pete] or ultimately, a Noble Dee; if it wasn’t for this beautiful lady, with a many different attributes that made me whole and the man I became, my mother, ‘Otha Lee!’

A mother’s love is unedifying, moreover . . . , unconditional. My mother has ALWAYS been there for me, and stood right there beside me: from birth, throughout my childhood and as I maturated into my pimp career; through my incarcerations; and during my highs and my lows.

Matter-of-fact, during the writing of this book; through those times when I felt like giving up . . . , she was there. Don’t stop now Ray, the best is yet to come. She would insist encouraging me on. What is it Donald Ray? Have you lost the way? Have you forgotten? She would ask, wanting to know my reasoning for becoming unfocused. Her words always seemed to reform my vision, enabling me to continue against all odds, even when the light at the end of the tunnel seem so far in the distance!

Further acknowledgment for this project harbors a list of a many entities, and elements that consist of people, places, and things; and I truly recognized them ALL: from the streets of the infamous Fillmore District that nurtured me amongst the elements of the game.

To Honey Bear, Fillmore Slim, my Uncle Jimmy Bruno, and the other VERY respectable pimps present during my earlier years whom laced me with the Game that so many wish they had obtained;

To the high school, Polytechnic that showed me the way game evolved into ones’ life, and evolution of human life. I mention these because; these entities and elements are wholeheartedly the formulation of my total being.

To someone I will never forget, I say these words WHOLEHEARTEDLY . . . , Wherever you may be; THANK YOU Mr. Mister for planting the seed in my mind that initiated this endeavor, which was aided by the tenaciousness of a true CONVICT, and friend—Motion; who satisfied my inner-dilemma, stating . . . , APPLES DON’T FALL FAR FROM THE TREE! I also recognize the encouragement of other San Quentin convicts.

Jimi Starr, in a subliminal sort of way, you FORCED me to stride forward to the very end, with the completion of your collective works (book, CD, and Video); this was our dream together from the first conception while I was incarcerated in San Quentin.

Fillmore Slim, just the fact that your legacy is so profound, it REALLY encouraged me to leave this book [and Volume 2] as my personal mark. Hopefully, those whom shall come after me [our successors] will understand how we REALLY did it in our perspective eras [as their Predecessors], and carry this GAME on in the PROPER manner, realizing what REAL pimpin’ REALLY is!

Although, I mention these individuals somewhat close to my last acknowledgments, they are not, IN NO WAY, considered the least meaningful to Noble Dee by no means. At this point, I’d like to acknowledge EACH and EVERY female whom have had the pleasure to grace my presence.

Much moreover, I wholeheartedly recognized EVERY hoe that have paid my pimpin’, to whatever degree it may have been. Because if you truly feel you’re being acknowledged, recognized and/or even thanked here in this paragraph; you somewhat know Noble Dee and know that any of the aforementioned affirmations gets to as much respect, as hoeing’ you put in for my pimpin’. But, for those that REALLY got it got it got it, and socked it to my pocket; you’re being acknowledged here to the UTMOST, and I truly thank you ALL for those monetary contribution!!!

Especially, the trio that I reflect upon thoroughly herein these pages, whom earned my utmost RESPECT and GRATITUDE:

There are many more, [and I’m sure you know who you are], that made this project what it is. So, I’ll just send a shout out to ALL of you by saying, If you don’t see your name mention here—don’t be alarm, because even though I may not have mention you herein my written acknowledgments; your roles have been the support and guidance to the words that are embedded onto the pages of this book.

Again, Thank everyone that have embraced Donald Lavan, Li’l Bo Pete and/or ultimately the man that I am today; NOBLE DEE!!!

Preface

To write an autobiography of my life, completely, in its true essence, would compile an encyclopedia of books. Therefore, I, along with my editor, decided to break my writings up into two books that are undoubtedly compiled with REAL context, providing you with a proper perspective of this Game, and a REAL insight into my life; the high and the low moments; the fame and glory with ALL its flamboyancy.

These pages are reflections of the life. These pages are the REALITIES of Noble Dee’s pimpin’, uncensored and to the fullest degree. In some cases, exposing the other side; the REAL trials, tribulations, and turmoil that REAL pimps experience in the day to-day existence in this lifestyle . . . , the GAME!

Each Volume is primarily titled "PIMP: REFLECTIONS OF MY LIFE" with all due respect to each; being the REALIST and RAWEST writings in regards to STRAIGHT-LACE Pimpin’ with NO chase, or additives, (i.e., dope dealing’, hustling’, con playing’, etc.,) that has been revealed to the masses since the first revelation of Game . . . , Robert Beck’s: Pimp: The Story of My Life, by Iceberg Slim . . . , thus, the latter portion of the primary titles . . . , "PIMP: REFLECTIONS PF MY LIFE".

Volume 1 . . . , "REFLECTIONS OF MY LIFE" is my memoir, broken up into various reflections from different times of my life. Remember, each and every written word is REAL. These reflections were my true experiences. And, in most cases, to write my life story REALLY took me right back in time. I had to relive many of these reflections to provide you with concise and accurate information.

Just like I told a many hoes that pass through my life . . . , "In any lifestyle that you choose, there are ups and there are downs, but we’re gonna experience way more ups than downs, if you choose to fuck with Noble Dee in a REAL-way!" I’m so glad that my life was just like that, because going down memory lane is not a joke.

In some instances, these remembrances brought out feelings and emotions that I didn’t even know existed within me, especially, a personal experience where I had to embrace the Down-Side [not downfall] of the Game—which is possibly my only regret in regards to the Game!

Volume 2 . . . , "NOBLE DEE" is more of an autobiography, pages of my life written in chronological order that leaves nothing out. In this Volume, I expose all of Noble Dee, even the things that I didn’t expounded on in Volume 1. This is my mark on the world. This is the book that I know generations and generations of potential young pimps will read in future times and become fired up, attaining a great desire to pimp.

However, I personally pray that the REALITIES that I share are more of a deterrent, turning our youth towards productive lifestyles. But, I do know; those that have it in their blood for REAL will use these writings as a blueprint to successful living in the Game. This is the same thing that my generation did with Beck’s Pimp: The Story of My Life, by Iceberg Slim. Again; thus, "PIMP: REFLECTIONS OF MY LIFE . . ."

Also remaining in alliance with the structure of Iceberg Slim’s [The 1st Coming] writings (revelation); wanting you to obtain a thorough meaning, and concise knowledge of this Game from my era, certain words that are not, and/or were not used in everyday [square/status quo] dialog are italicized and place in the rear glossary of this book. So, just like Pimp: The Story of My Life, to provide you with a proper definition those words, and terminology that myself and other REAL pimps used in our personal spiels, [progating this Pimpin’]!

Introduction

San Quentin Expose The Writer Within

I had come along way in life, moreover, in the GAME. I had done a lot of things that a many people only dream about, especially the lifestyle that I had lived—The Pimpin’! A lifestyle that is envied by many, acknowledged, and desired by all. We all know the old cliché . . . , ‘Many are called upon, but very few are chosen.’ This is very true; most drug dealers, con-players, hustles and today, even squares, the rappers, and, females too, want to live the so-called pimpin’ lifestyle and scream from their mouths . . . , "I’m a pimp." That’s bullshit though. Not everybody and/or anybody can do this for REAL, especially not any female. In my era, we were very adamant to the facts that this Game was only for a chosen few, and females weren’t built right to be a pimp.

Today, our society, although used out of original context, has embraced the words, PIMP and PIMPIN’. Every ethnic group, Black, White, Chinese, Japanese, Spanish-[descendants] (Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban, etc.,), Indian, even Middle-Eastern, etc., can be heard proclaiming that they are pimps, and live the pimpin’, loudly exploiting the new subculture termed by today’s hip hop generation.

In all actuality, this REALLY pisses, not only myself, but also ALL REAL pimps off to the highest-level of pisstivity. I mean, we (REAL Pimps) have lived this life to the fullest, and abided completely by all rules and regulations. Up until now, and I don’t know what has happened; Pimpin’ has been somewhat of a secret society. We’ve completely stayed amongst our own kind. Like the Masons, we had our own beliefs, and stood firm within the realm of those beliefs.

We truly believed in the cliché . . . , ‘Game is to be sold, not told!’ This was our REAL bold motto, and we meant every word of it. This terminology was our personal code, and back in the days—meant the difference between attaining REAL game, and perpetrating a REAL fraud. This is the shit that enhances an egocentric mentality. How did I come into this lifestyle? Pimps are born, not made, the universe chose men like myself!

Now that I found myself back in prison on some more bullshit, my daily conversations turned to the infamous lifestyle that I had lived over and over again. Contrary to my first incarceration, now I had pimped across country, and had plenty to talk about and experiences that should be revealed to the world.

And, contrary to the old prison populations which, not only shun conversation about pimpin’; they truly had a bad taste in their mouths about pimps and pimpin’; the new generation of prison inmates, [or convicts], seems to embrace the pimpin’ wholeheartedly, and had much respect for me, being that they knew that I had REALLY lived the life.

Sitting in a cell within the great walls of San Quentin, after being in the free world for almost twenty-five years, the stories that I would rap about to my young cell mate, Mr. Mister, kept him and I woke until the wee hours of the night. We were in the cell twenty-three hours a day; therefore, we had all the time we needed for my pimp stories.

Sometime, we would find ourselves up when they rang the bell for chow around six in the morning. Me and Mr. Mister would fall out for morning chow with me still kicking game about the pimpin’ and him tuned in like I was god laying down the ten commandments. My stories intrigued him so much that one day Mr. Mister dropped this on me; "Noble Dee, if you’ve lived the pimp-life like you’ve been telling me, nigga you need to write a book."

Mr. Mister, that sounds good, but man, I only has an eleven grade education. Furthermore, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

That night as I spilled more REALNESS about my life and the game, Mr. Mister began taking notes. Before we decided to call it a night and turn out the light, I looked over his notes. The notes that he wrote were powerful, and took flight in my mind immediately. I began coming to grips with the thought that somehow, someday I was going to write a book about my life as a pimp, get paid for it, and leave my mark on the land for my successors. From here to eternity, the world would know that Noble Dee was a Pimp, and pimped for REAL.

To my surprise, just as this idea of writing a book began to formulate in my mind, I received a letter from James Robinson, my childhood friend, and pimp friend, known as the infamous Jimi Starr. In my return letter to him, I told him about what these young cats up in SQ were saying, and what was now embedded within my soul. I expressed to Jimi Starr that I was seriously thinking about writing a book. Jimi wrote me back; in his letter he spoke real positive on writing a book too.

Matter-of-fact, in one letter Jimi Starr wrote, "Noble Dee, since we did so much pimpin’ together perhaps, we could compile a book together." His idea sounded good, especially since Jimi could express himself with written words better than myself. What could be better? We both had a story to tell the world about our lives as cross-country pimps.

The task of writing a book became reality. Mr. Mister and the other youngsters on the yard that did embrace pimpin’ had made a believer out of me. They made me realize that I could REALLY do this; I had lived the life, my memory was fresh, my experiences were intriguing, very interesting, especially with the state of our newest generation’s mentality. Day in, and day out, I would ponder over my past and transfer those mental thoughts on to paper in a general outline. I would even contemplate my future, and the possibility that my retirement plan had been set forth. Which became my sole motivation, causing me to work diligently outlining the structure of my memoirs—Noble Dee’s life story.

Even though, I had compile many scribe pages of outline for a book, still, where do I start? I was back in the free world with a deep yearning to complete the task of my dreams. My own personal epiphany and I was going to do this.

For two years, I took the back seat to the game. I made a few appearances, and crossed a few state lines, just to let ’em know that Noble Dee was still a factor in this game amongst our new hip hop generation, and it fucks them up to know that at a ripe age of 50 years old plus, I can still do this, if I REALLY wanted to. However, for those last two years, I’ve sat at my computer, and worked diligently. I had a book to write.

So, with the pages that I compiled, I know I brought this shit to you in it’s REALIST and RAWEST form, since the writings [revelations] of the profound Robert Beck.

Although the idea of writing a book was initiated between Me and Jimi Starr, it never did manifest. However, not only did I start and complete mine, Jimi Starr did start and complete his too, his book is titled The Gospel of the Game! You see I’m not a hater, so I just thought I might as well share that with you!

REFLECTION ONE

In The Beginning

Let me take this opportunity to share a little something with you about Noble Dee’s background. When I became old enough to understand, I was told that it was not long after we relocated to San Francisco, California from Houston, Texas that my mom and dad separated. The reason for them separating, I really don’t know.

I do know that when they separated, my dad left California and returned to Texas. And, not long after he arrived back in Texas, my dad ended up in TDC (Texas Department of Corrections).

At that time, I was only a young tender age of two years old, and my mother, now single and living in California all alone. Just her and I against the world with no other choice but to go on with our lives. Regardless to the situation, my mother held her head high and retained all the pride she could. Even though, we had to move in and began living with her aunt in the infamous Fillmore District of the City by the Bay.

As a kid growing up in the Fillmore any hustle was better than none. I remember playing little blind-boy as a kid to get extra money for candy at Jimmy’s, the Chinese store on the corner. I would stand in front of the store with a cup in one hand, a stick in the other with a pair of dark glasses on, popping game! Help the blind, I’d holler to the people going in and out of Jimmy’s.

When I got enough money to satisfy me for the moment, I would make a mad dash into the store, just like a hoe rushing to pay her pimp! And, just like the pimp . . . , Jimmy [the Chinaman] would check my hard earn money that I got conning and conniving. I must have loved that Chinamen man and his Chinese store.

Anyway, that was my first encounter with game, as a youngster, utilizing nothing but my wits to get money. This was just one of the examples of the con games that I executed in the streets of San Francisco—back in the day. One example of the type of slick ideas that came into my young mind to get the extra money that I wanted for candy and other things.

Keeping it REAL . . . , I didn’t have the heart like the other kids that would steal candy from Jimmy’s store. So, during that time playing little blind-boy and many other crafty con games were the methods that would enable me to get the things that I wanted that mamma wouldn’t buy me.

However, living with her Aunt Suzie in the Fillmore did initiate a very special bond between me and my mother, which was unbreakable. Although our bond remained, my glorious time in San Francisco’s infamous Fillmore District was short lived.

By the time I was five years old another event would take place in our lives that would be next to impossible for me to adjust too. We moved away from the city life in the Fillmore, and the safe-haven of Aunt Suzie’s house to down in the country in Madera, California with her cousin Elijah and his son Lincoln. During these times in the fifties, little towns in California like Madera were the boomtowns for blacks moving west from the south.

Cousin Elijah had a juke joint down in Madera, and he needed help to run the place. So, we moved down to Madera, which turn out to be a good place for her to meet someone.

My mother did meet a man that would cherish her love, and be a father to me. I don’t know how it happened, but Cousin Elijah’s juke joint is where she met Willie . . . , a country ass black man that thought he was somewhat of a slick brotha.

Willie was a nice looking man with big dreams of owing his own wrecking yard; this cat had an un-dying love for cars, and young pretty girls such as my mother. Willie and mamma lived together for the next eight years or so. Long enough for me to consider him as my step-dad, but by the time I was twelve years old, mamma, and Willie separated.

In retrospect, looking back . . . , Willie wasn’t that bad after all, in regards to me or my mother. On the other hand, though, I didn’t care for those ass whippings that he put on my little bad ass. Well, I guess most of the time I needed them, and perhaps they may have help saved me from life on death row or some other tragic future.

It was inevitable; the street life, in some shape, form or fashion, was for me, and I truly think that my bloodline played a major part in regards to my destiny . . . , I was a Lavan—Sonny Boy Lavan’s son.

Willie must have seen the streets written all over my face and on the face of his blood nephew too, his sister’s son, Freddie Leary. Willie was definitely hard on both of us. Me and Freddie spent a lot of time together growing up, and getting into trouble.

We weren’t bad kids; we just thought we were slick as motor oil! Perhaps this is why Willie did not spare the rod when it came to kicking our little slick-thinking asses. Verbally, along with the ass whipping, he’d attempt to instill his country values in us.

Thinking about it years later, I think that I adopted Willie style when it came to me checking my hoes—kicking ass and spitting game, lacing them at the same time.

Anyway, it wasn’t long before my mother would fall deeply in love with Willie. Matter-of-fact, I even grew to like him a lot, because, even at a young age, I knew the difference between having a man around. Life wasn’t bad for me and mamma with Willie around as her man and my step-dad.

Eventually, we moved back to the city. Back to San Francisco, back to comfort and safe haven of the infamous Fillmore District. However, the big city brought out all of Willie’s fears and insecurity in regards to his woman, my mother.

I guess Willie felt like this country girl was one in a million, and he wanted her all to himself. I must admit though . . . , my mother, Otha Lee was a very attractive woman, and far as Willie was concern—every brotha in the city of San Francisco wanted her!

His twisted mind told him this repeatedly, which cause him to act like a damn fool. Can you imagine a square, country-ass brotha with the style of a gorilla when it came to handling his woman? That’s like carrying dynamite in your back pocket . . . , a violent situation!

The man that I had grew to like, love, and respect had become extremely dangerous. Some nights after my mother would get off late in the evening from working in a Chinese laundry; I would lay in my bed and listen to Willie act a dam fool. He’d accuse mamma of being with every Tom, Dick and Harry.

I’d lay there contemplating on how I was going to kick his ass for old glory when I got big enough; kick his ass REAL good for the all misery that he’d start bringing into our lives. What can one expect from a man that had barely had a forth grade education? I guess being raised in the back woods of Texas made him just plain country with a streak of stupidity.

Although my mother and Willie separated, Freddie Leery was more than just my step-cousin; he was my best friend, my partner. We grew up together with big dreams, and keeping our eyes on the prize too.

Our youthful dreams and young quest in life was to grow up and one day become like some of the well-to-do street brothas . . . , the ghetto fabulous pimps of the sixties that we saw every weekend in Freddy’s West