The grace we all know
Sometimes, just sometimes, I love Parisians. It seems only to be those who walk the streets at night. Those who go where Eagles dare. Or those who just like getting home or chillin' out wasted.
I come to a stop light, and I see this pretty tall, stacked dude walking in a track suit. He's got a beer in his hand and music in his ears. His head's blastin' and bangin' to his mouth rapping along to whatever was boomin' in his ears. This guy is diggin' it. This guy is CRUNK! So, of course, not bein' a hater, I start diggin' it too and bobbing my head to the beat. The guy looks up at me standing completely still, watching him rip that mic, bouncin' my head to the beat. He finishes out his rap and strolls towards me and throws his hand in the air; I reach out and he gives me a middle-layer high five and says, "Ça va, mec?!?" and walks on. I see two extra beers in his back pocket as he walks away.
I bike the rest of the way home and hear some shreddin' beats coming from some car. The volume going Up and Down. I turn around, looking for its origin. The music stops. I resume entry and the music resumes. I turn around and this kid--no older than 15--sitting shotgun. He says:
"Excusez-moi"
I smile and say,
"No! J'aime bien....Plus fort!"
<
I come to a stop light, and I see this pretty tall, stacked dude walking in a track suit. He's got a beer in his hand and music in his ears. His head's blastin' and bangin' to his mouth rapping along to whatever was boomin' in his ears. This guy is diggin' it. This guy is CRUNK! So, of course, not bein' a hater, I start diggin' it too and bobbing my head to the beat. The guy looks up at me standing completely still, watching him rip that mic, bouncin' my head to the beat. He finishes out his rap and strolls towards me and throws his hand in the air; I reach out and he gives me a middle-layer high five and says, "Ça va, mec?!?" and walks on. I see two extra beers in his back pocket as he walks away.
I bike the rest of the way home and hear some shreddin' beats coming from some car. The volume going Up and Down. I turn around, looking for its origin. The music stops. I resume entry and the music resumes. I turn around and this kid--no older than 15--sitting shotgun. He says:
"Excusez-moi"
I smile and say,
"No! J'aime bien....Plus fort!"
<