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Editor’s note: S.F.U. director of West Coast operations, Meka Soul from HipHopDX dot com, gives us an oh, so crispy drop on the Sneaker Pimps jumpoff in the City of Angels.

MEKA SOUL @ Sneaker Pimps Los Angeles 2007

First off, I’d like to take the time to thank Mr.Penn for blessing me with this opportunity, so I’ll try my best to maintain the integrity of this site and keep the random-ass jibba jabba I spew on my own shit down to a minimum.

If there’s one thing I love as much as my moms, hip-hop and cola bottle-shaped women, it’d have to be my unequivocal appreciation for the glorified feet covers I wrap my ankles in almost every single day. While I don’t have the extensive collection as my East Coast blogging brethren, the respect I share for the sneaker culture is unparalleled. So attending the Sneaker Pimps event was a major thing for me, as I had missed last year’s incarnation while I was on vacation in the Rotten Apple.

Pulling into the parking lot around 8:30 pm, I noticed that the line was already beginning to stretch around the block since parties in Los Angeles shut down way too early. While I waited to get into the venue I shot a couple flicks of the kicks that were also being displayed on the line.

Once I got inside, I avoided the bar, and instead made a bee line straight for the shoes that lined the walls, tables, booths and even the broads that were there. I fell in love a little bit with this chick rocking the De La Soul Dunks, but I had to mask my inner emotions because, you know, I’m a cynic like that.

While the host tried to egg on the partygoers to smack the shit out of anyone who had on fakes, I played it cool, snapping away shots of the painters creating masterpieces everywhere. It was also around this time I caught the attention of some other photographers wanting to shoot me, since I was freshly dipped in an ice cold pair of Storm Dunks, not to mention I had the Cal on me a Lucky Seven Dunk on my hip. True story, I was straight styling on these fools.

I then walked into the Dunk Xchange, where a DJ spun classics like Raekwon’s “Verbal Intercourse,” Channel Live’s “Mad Izm” and Jay-Z’s “So Ghetto,” among others. Any other time I might have been thrilled by the fact that duke gave the joints I blast in my iPod some burn, but I was more or less bummed out that half the crowd just stood around like retarded second-graders, not knowing the catalog being played belonged to the rappers whose knobs they shine on the daily. It also didn’t help that when the DJ threw on Lil Wayne, they all went apeshit. Hip-hop died a little bit at that moment.

All that changed when Redman jumped on the stage, ripping through his entire catalog and spraying the fans with beer at the same time. I would have stayed to see Paul Wall and Swizz Beatz, but I left after Funk Doc left because a) I don’t like Paul Wall and Swizz Beatz like that, and b) I positioned myself next to a set of speakers during Red’s performance to get good shots and was totally deaf after 20 minutes.

All in all, Sneaker Pimps was an interesting experience. While it didn’t fully meet my expectations, the love that this once-unknown sub-genre received more than made up for it. My only qualm for next year is that they don’t allow any grown-ass dudes inside if they’re rocking their sister’s skinny jeans and a young-ass, V-neck muscle shirt, as if that shit ain’t sideways soft. I saw way too many of thosebattybwoys.

Big ups again, DP Dot fam.

–MEKA SOUL