In 1995 I was in my junior year in college; had accepted the fact that I was forever going to be 5’8 1/2, and even though getting attractive girlfriends hadn’t been an issue since I stopped wearing my overweight glasses in eighth grade, I deeply related with Skee-Lo’s wish to be more than what he was.
This song by Skee-Lo represents the starting point to the our trek to Mount Calvary. It’s usually, just at this moment, when we have our own lives all mapped out, and know exactly what will make us happy and give us a perfect little existence that God begins to intrude and deigns to show us the better way. The Gospel of Mathew (19:21-22) explains it this way: “The young man said to him, “All of these I have observed. What do I still lack?” Jesus said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to (the) poor, and you will have treasure in Heaven. Then come, follow me.” When the young man heard this statement, he went away sad, for he had many possessions.”
I find that there is this beautiful tension that occurs in the spiritual life when what we want our lives to look like finally comes into direct conflict with how God wants our lives to look like. The journey to the narrow road begins when we start the process of voluntarily conforming our self-will to the will of God. Indeed, Christian maturity is realized when we accept the fact that the only will that will be done on earth as it is in Heaven is God’s; therefore, the true expression of the free-will that God has given us it to bring it back in harmony with its source. This is possible through cooperating with the grace of God.
I do remember secretly wishing I was a little bit taller and a better baller; not so that I could get a ‘Leoshi’, but so that I could play point guard for the Cleveland Cavaliers and win championships. Today my wishes have turned into prayers. I pray for the heights of holiness through Christ Jesus, and rather than wishing for better shooting and passing skills, I pray for complete freedom to share what He has given to me share.
LYRICS:
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Hey, this is radio station W-S-K-E-E
We’re takin’ calls off the wish line
Making all your wacky wishes come true
Hello
I wish I was little bit taller,
I wish I was a baller
I wish I had a girl who looked good
I would call her
I wish I had a rabbit in a hat with a bat
and a ’64 Impala
I wish I was like six-foot-nine
So I could get with Leoshi
Cause she don’t know me but yo she’s really fine
You know I see her all the time
Everywhere I go, and even in my dreams
I can scheme of ways to make her mine
Cause I know she’s livin phat
Her boyfriend’s tall and he plays ball
So how am I gonna compete with that
‘Cause when it comes to playing basketball
I’m always last to be picked
And in some cases never picked at all
So I just lean upon the wall
Or sit up in the bleachers with the rest of the girls
Who came to watch their men ball
Dag y’all! I never understood
Why the jocks get the fly girls
And me I get the hood rats
I tell ’em scat, skittle, skibobble
Got hit with a bottle
And put in the hospital, for talkin’ that mess
I confess it’s a shame when you livin’ in a city
That’s the size of a box and nobody knows yo’ name
Glad I came to my senses
Like quick-quick got sick-sick to my stomach
Overcome with my thoughts of me and her together
Right?
So when I asked her out she said I wasn’t her type
(rpt 1, 1)
I wish I had a brand-new car
So far, I got this hatchback
And everywhere I go, yo I gets laughed at
And when I’m in my car I’m laid back
I got an 8-track and a spare tire in the backseat
But that’s flat
And do you really wanna know what’s really wack, What
See I can’t even get a date
So, what do you think of that?
I heard that prom night is the bomb night
With a hood rat you can hold tight
But really tho’ on figuero
When I’m in my car I can’t even get a hello
Well so many people wanna cruise Crenshaw on Sunday
Well then I’m gonna have to get in my car and go
You know I take the 110 to the 105
Get off on Crenshaw tell my homies look alive
Cause it’s hard to survive
Livin’ in a concrete jungle and
These girls just keep passin’ me by
She looks fly, she looks fly
Makes me say my, my, my
(rpt 1, 1)
I wish I was a little bit taller…
I wish I was a baller…
I wish I was a little bit taller y’all
I wish I was a baller (3)
Hey, I wish I had my way
‘Cause everyday would be a Friday
You could even speed on the highway
I would play ghetto games
Name my kids ghetto names
Little Mookie, big Al, Lorraine
Yo you know that’s on the real
So if you’re down on your luck
Then you should know just how I feel
Cause if you don’t want me around
See I go simple, I go easy, I go greyhound
Hey, you, what’s that sound?
Everybody look what’s going down
Ahhhh, yes, ain’t that fresh?
Everybody wants to get down like that
(rpt 1, 1)
I wish, I wish, I wish…