Hip Hop: Love of our lives

When you only got 3 hours of sleep.
You’re tired, hungry, eyes burning,
smelling like smoke from the fire that kept y’all warm at the show.
Feeling irritable and biting off anyone’s head that dares look at you side-ways.
Cursing Hip Hop and asking yourself why the fuck you don’t love yourself enough to be in bed with warm socks and coffee.

You just can’t wait to get home then
Dosage Vepz drops a beat, Diabolic
Freestyles in a way that shocks you that at 7 am after the night we had, he still shows skills that one would expect from a well rested mind and a few cups of coffee.
Evidence joins him and they do a back and forth punctuated by Dosage and Antidote every now and then.
For all the things you want to bitch about.
For all the aches, pains and irritants, a moment like
that…it reminds you.
For all the many examples, moments of glory, awards, concerts and glitz, a random Sunday
morning Freestyle in a dark room with the sun peeking through the window, threatening to kill the mood does it.
It takes you back to why you fell and stay in love with Hip Hop.
Why at the end of the
day, it’s not a music genre, it’s not a
hobby, not even an occupation.
She may abuse us, get us into trouble, piss us off, flip on us, thin our pockets, take all we have from us but Hip Hop is worth it.
She’s always worth it.

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