The Passion of The Life

The Passion of The Life Education & Motivation by way of Entertainment.

Gun violence in Detroit
Gun violence in Detroit

Gun violence in Detroit

Today on Let it Rip, we discussed how the gun violence in Detroit may be down, but the fear of being shot remains on the city's streets. Now, a group from Detroit's toughest zip code say they want better for families living in the city.  But will their solutions to ending gun violence get the j...

The Saratoga Engagement
The Saratoga Engagement

The Saratoga Engagement

The word Engagement speaks not only of a formal agreement to marry, but of an agreement to do something at a fixed time as well. * The Saratoga Community was once a flourishing and beautiful neighborhood. Homes with manicured yards and businesses owned by people you ...

The Passion of The Life (Pt. 1: The Life): the life, death & resurrection of Phillip A. Sample (Volume 1)
The Passion of The Life (Pt. 1: The Life): the life, death & resurrection of Phillip A. Sample (Volume 1)

The Passion of The Life (Pt. 1: The Life): the life, death & resurrection of Phillip A. Sample (Volume 1)

Before The Passion became something relevant to pen and paper; it was a Life saving idea. Finding myself facing Life in prison at 18 years of age and contemplating suicide, I began to reflect on my Life and how I had gotten to that point. It would take great effort to recall all of the places, ex...

Detroit Book City

Detroit Book City

HOT OFF THE PRESS!!!!! We're are so excited about DBC's 2nd Annual African-American Family Book Expo 2018 Author's Boardroom participants. Starting at 12:30 p.m., gain access to listen-in on featured author readings, pitch sessions, and storytelling from a fierce group of Indie Black Book Authors.

Secure your seat and Pre-register today!!!

Stop by to learn something new, old or exciting. Learning is a journey!!! :) #detroitbookcity


...event today is CANCELED, will reschedule at a later date, due pardon and I thank you, all of those who intended on attending.

...coming February, 2018...

...coming February, 2018...

Ucci Khan

Ucci Khan available

Father didn’t know father my Seed; nevertheless, via a strong natural prodding, you will know me.
There is a cycle of dysfunction in our families and thus communities. It is my belief that a large part of this dysfunction is due to the absence of Father; which is the absence of strength, security and stability. Be it Gods will my Seed, our relationship will serve to off and upset said cycle.
There is a bit of humbling fear that follows the hearing by Father that there is life evolving. It is the improper processing of this fear, amongst other things, that fuels the cycle. If my options in your regard were to fight or take flight, the manifestation of this book will testify to my choosing. You are my future, my rite to manhood, my beloved Seed, who by the Grace of God will evolve into a beautiful flower, that will someday become a tree. I am your Root- intertwined with our roots; firm, resilient, humble and wise- the residue of trial, tribulation and divine grace.


It’s ironic, funny and sad as hell; how people feed and cheer the dragon on. Everything violent is applauded and encouraged. A movie, or song isn’t good if it isn’t violent. Yet when the dragon strikes and wreaks havoc and it is found, that the movie or song is real; the same people that once praised the dragon, will be the same ones who pray for its persecution. It is a foul, misleading and unfair web in which I was caught dead center, with no idea of how to escape or comprehend. I had reached my lowest of lows.

#ThePassionOfTheLife Part: II Death Dec. 3, 2017

The Passion of The Life

The Passion of The Life

Ucci Khan

Ucci Khan

The Passion of The Life Pt. One; The Life
To My Unborn Seed
now available @

Shantinique Records and Apparel 8933 Harper Ave.

Nandi's Knowledge Café 12511 Woodward Ave.

Hood Book Headquarters 2407 E. 7 Mile Rd.

Ucci Khan

Ucci Khan

FROM THE AUTHOR OF "The Passion of The Life, Pt. I"

To My Unborn Seed (thoughts, fears, feelings & hopes)


Father didn’t know father my Seed; however, as a result thereof and a strong natural prodding, you will know me.
There is a cycle of dysfunction in our families and thus communities. It is my belief that a large part of this dysfunction is due to the absence of Father; which in essence is the absence of strength, security, stability and firm things like that. Be it Gods will my Seed, our relationship will serve to off and upset said cycle.
There is a bit of humbling fear that follows the hearing by Father that there is life evolving. It is the improper processing of this fear, amongst other things, that fuels the cycle. If my options in your regard were to fight or take flight, the manifestation of this book will testify to my choosing. You are my future, my rite to manhood, my beloved Seed, who by the Grace of God will evolve into a beautiful flower, that will someday become a tree. I am your Root- intertwined with our roots; firm, resilient, humble and wise as a result of trial and tribulation.


Upon hearing of your presence, although I sensed it prior to, I was overwhelmed with thoughts, fears feelings and hopes- and as is my way, I sought the pen for ventilation, organization and clarity. The pen that I may someday share with you these things, although I will share them with you from now until the time I hold you. And from then until the time you can thoroughly comprehend them. Consider this then a point of reference and a testament of my love, reasoning and emotions.


After looking at some of the things that I began to write, I began to see how all Seeds, Flowers and young Trees could possibly benefit from some of it as well. And not only them, but Fathers too. Surely to be taken and tailored accordingly, taken away from and by all means added to, but taken nevertheless. It is a deep and relative measure.
In conclusion, I think it necessary to state clearly that these ideas (thoughts, fears, feelings and hopes) are unconventional, as the source is not text book. In fact, they come from nature, experience, memory, desire, prayer and observation.


Detroit Book City

Detroit Book City

IT'S GOING DOWN!!!! the Northwest Activities Center on Sunday, February 26, 2017 from 11am-6pm. Check out our spectacular BLACK BOOK AUTHOR SHOWCASE!!!

It's not too late to register!!! Do so today on EVENTBRITE and bring the little ones for KIDZONE! YOU MUST REGISTER TO ENTER THIS FREE VENUE.

We have ONLY a few Author tables left, so SIGN-UP today on EventBrite or contact Janeice at 248.667.6449.


Ucci Khan

Ucci Khan

...Filmed in Oakland California. Inspired by Oscar Grant...

"The Passion of The Life (Pt. 1: The Life)" by UcciKhan

Chapter Seventeen: Bangin’

The Black slaves after receiving this indoctrination shall carry on and will become self-refueling and self-generating for HUNDREDS of years, maybe THOUSANDS. Don’t forget you must pitch OLD black male vs. the YOUNG black male. You must use the DARK skin slaves vs. the LIGHT skin slaves.


-The Willie Lynch Letter

I am not sure if rather or not The Willie Lynch Letter is authentic or not, but I can say that I bear witness to what it implies. I’ve seen my generation divide by neighborhoods, sides of town, types of stars, schools, cities, coasts and colors.
My neighborhood, the 48205, was already divided by several cliques and sections. Westcoast music, like the Crips and Bloods, Bangin’ On Wax album; and movies like Menace II Society, took things to another level. And though I shall not waste ink on frivolities, I will say that the blue flag was the first to fly in that area. With time opposition evolved, not because someone was indoctrinated with a contrary perspective from a direct source, but because someone wanted to do the opposite of what we were doing. One Set in particular, who I will call The Clan, were once allies yet became some of our most devout opposition. The bad thing about it, was the fact that since they didn’t truly understand what we were, they couldn’t possibly fully understand what they claimed to be. And to this day you have a confused mass of individuals who don’t know what they are. It is a powerful testament to the natural inclination to belong. The good thing about their switching over, was the fact that we gained three profound assets to the team- Rich, C.J. and Tales.
What ultimately made the gang violence in Detroit more intense than I had seen in Chicago, was the fact that instead of one “Organization” controlling an entire area, you had several “DisOrganizations” crammed into a box of sort. The Antichrist supplied sustenance to us all, thus the vying for territory was ever present and it seems as if everyone had AK-47s. The summer of 1993 would be the summer that established the 48205 zip code, as one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the country.


My family was doing good, yet I was growing distant. L and I were closer, yet even the relationship with my uncles was a bit strained. I wasn’t listening and making it “hot” for business. It wasn’t my intent, in fact, in my heart of hearts I was doing all the right things. I was a Souljah in the military and devoted to the service and security
of my Country- or block. Sure I may have been extreme in my ways, but we were living in extreme times. Several old Hustlers found that extremism attractive and tried to recruit me and the squad. Some probably wanted to be recruited, yet I would rather be the King of a small square, than a pawn in the world.
My Auntie Rachel and family were still living on Linnhurst. L and I would go and watch Lil’ Marv and D.J. when they went out or whatever. Our other task would be to tend to the clientele. We would sit in the front yard on milk crates, drink a 40, make money and watch the drama.
The Linnhurst boys were now calling themselves the Lynch Mob. They were still heavy into it with my old neighborhood, who called themselves P.D.Q. – which stood for Putm’ Down Quick. A name to which they would live up to with a passion. These were some of the most vicious battles of the times. It is my opinion that the Lynch Mob was pound for pound the strongest crew of the era; at least until they started recruiting beyond Linnhurst. I think they, like everyone else, got caught up in quantity over quality. Not saying they were weak or strong, as I actually liked a couple of them, yet they didn’t know the roots and would make waves for the sake of making waves. I think they took our endeavors to keep the peace between us for weakness. This would result in our clashing in the near future.
Aside of the already mentioned; you had, Baby Knock Outs, S.U.Gs, NRV, The Clan, Loco Boyz , some 444s and a few others. Across Gratiot on the Schoenherr side, you had P.P.Gs, 4th Ward and The I.U.Ts- with my old homeboy Ashanti from Von at the helm. At one point or another for one thing or another, everyone would end up bumping heads. We would form truces, like The Regulators, which was our endeavor to bring all of the main Sets under one umbrella. It failed miserably. That Willie Lynch thing was heavy on our heads and we didn’t even know it. I remember trying to make peace between cats like the 444s and The I.U.Ts; and approaching The Clan with propositions of peace before we went to war. This too I believe was mistaken for weakness.
To further substantiate the fact that I initially frowned upon the idea of Gangbangin’, I will pen about how we fell out with the Baby Knock Outs. During those days we lived for basement parties. Not only were they supper live but they were supper dangerous as well. In fact, I know several people who lost their lives at basement parties. Every weekend we would walk or car pool all through the hood asking, “Where da party at?” This particular party found us in one corner and them in another. I remember being told as a youngster in the Chi, that you could represent you, without disrespecting another. They never learned that. I personally didn’t care what they threw up, but I had a serious problem with them throwing Pitchforks down. I knew several of them from way back, thus had a rapport with them. I approached them and asked them what they were. They couldn’t give me a concrete answer outside of B.K.O. I then asked them why they were dropping forks. They couldn’t give me a concrete answer, but made it clear that they were only f**kin’ around. I told them that where I came from, we didn’t f**k around like that. They said they understood and the night ended peacefully.
L and Marv had been kicked out of Jackson and were going to Burbank. Go figure. Vito and I pushed the Regal up there after school. It was a beautiful and bright day. We ran into a couple of females who in panicked tone, told us that the B.K.Os were up there talking about jumping on L and Marv. We drove down further to meet them, for there had to be some sort of mistake. There wasn’t. As soon as they seen us they got to throwing up signs that even I hadn’t seen before. I did notice however that they were again dropping Pitchforks. I jumped out and unloaded the shotgun that we had in the car. It had a blue bandanna tied around the barrel. People ran, screamed and dove for cover. After I articulated my rage and frustration, I got back into the car and we peeled off.
I firmly established the dictum that we would never be the aggressors and would be as reasonable as the next man would allow us to be. I am sure my reputation from those days would say different, but that’s only because the second part of the measure was that when reason failed, we would be extreme in our actions. I was at
a personal place, where when the fire rose to a certain level, I couldn’t call it back- and my default setting was to shoot. Truthfully speaking, I don’t think I wanted to call it back. Something in me compelled me to want to smash every haute and “wanna’ be” tough spirit I encountered. And as these sentiments grew, I wanted bigger guns with more and more rounds. All the noise I had heard during the course of The Life didn’t have sh*t on the sound of an exploding barrel- repetitiously! And the way it made me feel? Well, let’s just say powerful, Godlike and something sexual!
Needless to say, they retaliated. Marv was shot in the arm. We would bang it out with them for the entire summer- amongst others.


As previously mentioned, The Antichrist provided sustenance to us all. Most of us were dropouts and had no work history nor ethic. All we knew and figured we had was the hustle. By this time, it was all normal to me. My uncle was even heavier in The Life than before. I made a substantial percentage from helping him with counting money, re-upping, cooking, cutting and packaging. We went about it religiously and he made sure I was thorough in my capacity. I knew the math and portions on all levels of weight from 1008 to 3.5 grams. Darryl had moved from upstairs and our Cousin Damone, who was my uncles right hand moved in. Upstairs became the Spot in more ways than one. And though I can’t remember why Darryl moved, I do know L Dog had to get low due to some legal issues. It would be many years before I saw him again. His absence meant that I had to step up even further- be that possible.
My mother had a new boyfriend named Ray. I liked the guy more than any of her previous boyfriends, yet he wouldn’t last long at all. I use to feel sorry for the dude. My mother would be in her mode and giving the poor guy hell. I’m not saying he was an Angel or anything, she was just too much for him. I remember one time, I guess he had gotten fed up or something; and according to her, punched her in the jaw. I asked him about it calmly, as I wasn’t too
concerned. I could see that if it was so, it couldn’t have been too hard. Plus, I knew they’d be acting as if nothing happened the next morning. I must’ve said something he didn’t like. He began to spew forth curse words loud and aggressively. I guess he didn’t know I was f**ked up in the head. All I could hear was noise. I thought about Mel, B, the sirens on Ashland and heard gunshots. I attacked him. L followed suit. I felt bad about it all, as I knew it was no coming back from that. Even if they solved their issues, things between us would never be the same. He moved out.


The first case I caught where I was charged as an adult, though I wasn’t 18, was an assault and battery. We use to hang out at the store hustling and shooting dice. Anyone who came and attempted to make a delivery caught the blues. We took cases upon cases of beer; and would sell a portion of them back to the store, for probably less than half of what they would’ve initially paid. One dude, a middle age Whiteman attempted to defend his load. It was all bad. I went to jail. Real jail. Wayne County Jail to be exact. I am sure I was the youngest dude on my rock, which was on the third floor of the old jail. I was high-strung and paranoid, yet didn’t really have any problems. The old heads dug me and made sure I was good. I learned to play chess and began to do push- ups. Outside of that, I spent my time writing raps and beating on the table. Our phone was turned off; therefore, I had to call the Pastors house and ask if they could either relay a message to my mother, or go and get her. They were indeed special people.
Anyway, I again received probation. I only spent a month or so in the county, yet I felt like a Vet. I told the hommies about how I was doing push-ups and stayed ready to throw them hands, yet I never told them about how I cried at night because I missed home; the block, the noise and myself.
A few months out I caught yet another case. It was a CCW (carrying a concealed weapon), that could’ve easily been several counts of attempted murder. Instead of telling you what happened, I will quote for you how it was described in the Presentencing Investigation Report:

“An off-duty police officer was north on Brock near Novara streets, in the city of Detroit, MI, when she observed the defendant, Phillip Sample, remove a nickel plated revolver from his waistband and fire several shots at a group of youths running away from him. The police officer followed the defendant west on Novara where she was met by a retired Detroit Police Department Sergeant. He had also heard the shots. The officer and the retired sergeant ordered the defendant to halt and drop the weapon. The defendant complied and was held until Scout Car #9-9 arrived.”

Believe it or not, but I again received probation. I began to think the system was a joke. I was too ignorant to see the set up. They were only putting the hammer on layaway. I thought I was invincible. Now, what if something were to happen where I’d began to feel physically invincible as well? Add the emotional sh*t, and you’d have the makeup of a monster.


Damone was more like a big brother than cousin. He was a hustler and one of the most kindhearted persons I ever met; however, when he got drunk he was a different person. A silly, violent, anything goes type of dude. We loved it. He had it laid out real nice upstairs- sounds hooked up and everything. We had a Pitbull named Bogart who stayed on the roof. He was just as crazy as Damone was. You might as well say that L and I moved in with him. My Auntie Monica had moved to Greiner Street, yet L stayed with us. We ate Coney Island or something every other night and drank 40 ounces of malt liquor as if it were water.
One night my Cousin David came over with a few of his homeboys. He was in college and would come by when he came home. They were drunk as all get out. It was probably after midnight, yet we agreed to go to the Coney Island on Linnhurst and Gratiot. I will tell you like I told the Police, I don’t remember what
happened. All I know is that I was shot in the chest. I felt no pain, yet remember being alone. And the lights- blurry and fading. The doctor said that my staying calm saved my life. The healing was worse than the initial shot. Don Don would lay next to me and cry with me, as I did with him when he got circumcised at five. Yea, it was terrible.
The irony of my getting shot, was the fact that it didn’t wake me up. In fact, it lulled me further. I indeed began to think that I was physically invincible. I’d harden to the point where I wouldn’t even duck or seek cover during the course of a gunfight. I was gone and going. My granny wouldn’t have recognized me. I didn’t even recognize me. The Willie Lynch scenario was so powerful that it divided me amongst myself. Lil’ Phillip had all but faded, as Young Phil had taken center stage.

*things covered in The Life* Detroit, Eastside * Detroit, Westside * Chicago, Southside Gangs, Youth & The Public School System The Emergence & Results of Crack Cocaine The Emergence & Results of Gangster Rap The From School to Prison Pipeline How Detroits 48205 Became One of The Countries Most Dang...


277 Gratiot Ave, STE 100-A1629
Detroit, MI


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