You have seen my proclivity for POLO and NIKE Air Max but I don’t think I have shown you how serious shit can really get. When you are a representative for the classic streetwear lifestyle you have to touch all the bases just to show the kids how it’s done properly. If the weather had been warmer this past weekend I was gonna hurt the streets with a dandy little Easter outfit.
Pictured below is a pair of Easter Egg Air Max 180 along with a cotton mesh POLO knit top and a pair of NIKE Dri-Fit knit socks. I also prah’lee would have popped the tags on a pair of Levis that I caught on clearance at Marshalls ($7.00 bitches!).
The outfit is sharp and clean but I needed a chapeau to top off this setup properly. Real men should always wear a hat on the first day of the week anyhoo in deference to AUM, the bringer of life. I know I wanted a fitted cap to spice this look and I knew where I had to go to copp the right one.
RICHIE’s on Delancey Street is one of the holdover sneaker and streetwear emporiums from the real days of the L.E.S. There are so many sneaker boutiques in the area now, but RICHIE’s keeps it realer than most. On a good day you can catch some Dunks up in there for forty or even thirty cent. And since they are part of that classic Delancey Street network you can politic your prices with the manager. If I am copping two I.T.’s you best believe I am getting some money knocked off top. That’s one of the main reasons I loved shopping in Paris. Middle East cats love to haggle over price and since I am Hebrew that shit is in my bloodline.
RICHIE’s has more fitted caps than the New Era store and his prices are way better. Amidst the flood of Yankee caps I find the joint that I am going to fucks with on my setup. Lucky for me RICHIE’s is having a sale and the joint is only $10 cent.
Aww shit y’all! Holler at a clean azz, dandy azz nigga when you see him on the streets.
I have been telling you all about my NIKE Dunks collection from jump street. They are my favorite everyday shoe because they are so comfortable and stylish. I love my Air Max too, but the Dunks go way back to when I was first buying my own sneakers. This summer the Dunks will be as ubiquitous on the streets as Air Force 1 were several years ago. Their time has come. Again.
Lil’ mama with a pair of Tiffany SB’s on her feet and a bangin’ North Face. Don’t get mad ‘cuz she is stylin’ on you.
It’s looking like these multi-colored Dunks will be the footwear of choice for most of the senoritas this spring.
Dunks just aren’t for broads either. In front of the Supreme store it’s always a Dunks celebration. This cat is a BapeStar too with the limited edition BAPE x Casio G-Shock watch. One word. Fire.
I need an around the way girl with a Sidekick and a clean pair of Dunks.
The white and blue sneakers are called Vandals. Dude has the black leather Dunks with suede toebox and swoosh. Nasty.
Peep how homeboy lets the flaps hang.
Get your nerd right with a pair of Dunks this summer. Women will look at you totally differrent and you might get some action.
Are you getting your shit together for springtime? I decided to climb up from my parent’s basement and do some personal hygiene upgrading. The shower wash I have been using is starting to lose it’s efficacy in my nether regions. It’s like as if my taint has developed an immunity to Cool Blue Axe body wash. I know CHOCOLATE SNOWFLAKE will appreciate it when I flower up the ol’ azz crack. Not that it’s ever been a problem, but still and all…
All the body wash products in this funky store I went to were made out of fruits and berries and shit. It makes bathing sound like fun when you can lather up your sachs with some mango-lime concoction or put some raspberries on your dingleberries. All this fruity smelling shit should help me get that coveted salad tossing in my pineapple. Not that I even want that in all honesty. I’ve seen what comes out of my azz so I don’t know if I want to kiss someone who lunches back there. Maybe some of you shit roses. I don’t. I damn near feel like buying some Flintstones vitamins too. They are supposed to help you with your stool. That’s my new favorite word this weekend.
STOOL.
The purchase that made me the happiest was this cheese grater type doohickey for scraping the skin off your feet. My ex took my last one away because I used it until my foot bled. That callous learned who was boss though. I have typical non-metrosexual man feets (read: crazy, ashy, corn chip funky). I don’t lotion my feet because when you put on your socks afterward it feels mushy inside the foot pad. When C.S. and I were first dating I never let her see my feet. Them fucks are deal breakers.
On the way back to the basement I stopped off at the spirits store. I’m finally off the weed. I had picked up again to review a couple of new rap albums for XXL Mag Dot Com. As usual, weed makes me depressed and anxious. I quit blogging about 10 times last week. The problem with quitting the shit(blogging) is that people look at me curiously and then shrug their shoulders. This means that I haven’t blogged hard enough to have made a real impression upon them. When I die I want people to say that I was the best to have ever done this shit. The mother effing B.O.A.T. of this shit. I want people to cry at my funeral and then I want to have a bomb azz party. I want to die in the summer so that we can bar-be-cue afterwards, because I like bar-be-cue.
I bought a bottle of rum. Mount Gay. Is that not the gheyest name evar? And it’s from Barbados so you know it’s a little suss. My great-grandmother said that only two things come from Barbados, flying fish and fags. She was from Nevis. She called herself British. I hope this rum isn’t part of the homosexual agenda that is overcoming American culture, but one thing is for sure, if homos can make a rum so smooth tasting then maybe they aren’t so bad. Mount Gay is damn good rum and whatever it does on Barbados should stay there on Barbados.
I need to do some laundry today. My underdrawls stash is getting dangerously low. If I don’t act now I will be wearing swimming trunks under my jeans this week. And possibly one of C.S.’s drawls. True story is that one time I ran out of underwear and I wore one of my ex girls thongs. It was ridiculous. The material was irritating my bum and the material on the front side didn’t hold my sachs either. I would have been better off wearing nothing under my pants and just rocking out commando. I never dug that style unless I had on sweatpants. I need a layer of soft brushed cotton on my sachs thank you very much.
Hip-Hop isn’t dead. It upgraded from Mickey Dee’s to organic gourmet Dean and Deluca. I took some pics of these dudes harassing the pretty white thing things coming out of the market. It’s good to see that Hip-Hop is looking to get healthy this summer. Respect to these dudes…
If you think that supremacy is going to wait for teenagers to come of age to join the military industrial complex or the prison industrial complex then you have another thing coming. Black and Brown teens feed the machine like organic tomatoes and the Bronx has been America’s ground zero since NIXON was in the building.
Bronx teenagers are learning about irony firsthand as students at the Community School for Social Justice are intimidated and threatened to submit to metal detector scanning against their will. Apparently the students have been learning too much about their civil liberties from an after school program coordinator. It seems that even a small charter school feels the need to treat their students like criminal chattel. What has to suck for these teenagers is the realization that the school safety officers are all people that barely made the journey through high school.
If you aren’t too busy signing petitions for juvenile delinquents like SHAQUANDA COTTON maybe you can show some support to kids that don’t beat their teachers…
Do I ever tell you good folks how much I appreciate the time you spend over here? I’m trying to cull images and simultaneously write several different drops for this site. All the while my head keeps slumping as I fight my fatigue with Bacardi mixed with Apple & Eve Fruit Punch. It’s 100% juice bitches! The grape drink is for Passover. I write these drops at 3-5am and I know they have to be pockmarked with spelling and grammatical errors on the regulack. Thank you for holding your own against my failings.
I don’t know how I feel about celebrations for no good reason, but I just noticed that I have eclipsed more than 1500+ posts for this website. That’s pretty good shit even if I say so myself. I’ve had help from friends old and new and I only ask that your committment to my success remains the same. Ha. No seriously. I regard my success at this site solely in the dialougue that is inspired. I’m a comments junkie. This is why I don’t run ad banners here. I don’t want you to leave DP Dot Com. I don’t want you to click away from here. If you do leave me for a minute then visit the sites on my blogroll. They’re good folks I think.
This is going to be one of those drops that just floats around my head space for awhile.
I have wanted to get on here and rip the television show ‘The Wire’ a new asshole. This is some bullshit they are perpetrating, blah, blah, blah, because ultimately, no matter how many center city public schools you have taught in, you cannot tell the ultimate ghetto story. You can’t do it because your real life still frames your values and morality. To get down to the bone gristle, the bone marrow of a situation, you have to live the life. You have to taste the despair firsthand and then let it overwhelm you so that your humanity pours out of you. You have to be empty and cold as ice.
R.I.P. WILLIAM LEWIS a/k/a ‘BILLY BANG’
The last of the Peter Pans came to rest in a Corona Queens barbershop Wednesday afternoon. All the evening news programs had a 15 second segment of the story. 15 minutes of fame = 15 seconds of infamy when being ‘hood rich is all you know. I will do a drop on my little big homey, BILLY BANG later this year.
“hit ya back split ya,
fuck fist fights and lame scuffles,
pillow case to your face make the shell muffle,
shoot your daughter in the calf muscle,
fuck a tussle nickel-plated,
sprinkle coke on the floor make it drug related,
most hated”
