I knew something wasn’t right. Felt the vibe humming like electric wires. I was going out to busk last Saturday night. Planned to meet up with the usual crowd of percussionists. I got to the regular spot where there was the usual clumsy midnight stumblers commuting to and fro but no block rockin rhythm. So i posted up with my busted tips cooler riddled with band and brewery stickers, my Gonzo green djembe and my cheap ass drum setrap. After about an hour i met a fake macaroni gangster named “J- Cole” who gave me some on-the-spot gypsy bullshittery. He claimed he owned the block… shit you not. The entire epicenter of Clt N.C. Restaurants and everything. He said, “go in to any restaurant and say J Cole sent you… Needless to say i never tested this. He then proceeded to tell me he would put a $100 dollar bill as well as the other half of a gold chain that one of the usual percussionists had never purchased from the original owner. He said it was worth 5G. He said he would toss that and the $100 dollar bill in my cooler for the small price of some change. After that he tried to rap battle a bunch of teenage fake gangsters just past puberty that looked like wanna be bloods posing as the “the hot boys” with red bandanas and fake gold teeth. Bent on proving himself to any one and no one in particular he tried to spit bars. fumbling over mumbled syllables and and fake cliches he looked abundantly nervous.