It’s mid-May, ’94. “Juicy” is throbbing from stereos in every avenue. Somehow it’s as if this is exactly your life. Toes tapping, shoulders swaying to Mtume’s sampled mid-tempo instrumental. “Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis / When I was dead broke, man, I couldn’t picture this.” Knocking fists with your friends in the backseat of their beat-down ’71 Chevy Nova, laughing when you meet lines (“Now honeys play me close like butter plays toast!”). Alleyway steam muddling fantasies of extravagant living, golden-bottled alcohol, and a kind of papered freedom. Years away from worrying about men in blue suits and bow ties clutching 9mm pistols. [Ready To Die.]