By: Billy Beerslugger
As I am transitioning from the suburbs back to Philadelphia after almost a year, one thing I’m not going to miss is the fake ass Wiggers that have popped up in the neighborhood i grew up in. It’s like the student body of my old high school (and apparently 90% of the bar crowd), who are Caucasian mind you, dress in Sean John, Fubu, hoodies, hat’s tilted to the side with a straight brim and solid color or airbrushed t-shirt that’s 3 sizes too big.
So take these guys above for instance. Flashing signs of some sort, maybe trying to convey they are from the West Coast, maybe Westmont High School, maybe W was the letter of the day on Sesame Street, I don’t know. What I do know is that these are the types of harmless hooligans I see on the streets of the neighborhoods I patrol at night while working as a freelance vigilante. They’re up on the “urban” dialect that they hear in movies and the latest song featuring T-Pain. Spouting out words and phrases such as “crunk”, “bling” and “supaman dat hoe”. Listening to Lil’ Wayne’s Tha Carter 14 in the car their mom and dad got them for their 17th birthday. For this car they got fake rims and a speaker system that makes the trunk rattle like when you rip a fart on a leather couch.
Quick to talk shit and challenge someone to a fight while their boys are there but ultimately back down and end up talking shit from behind their biggest friend. Because they’re “Gangsta”, “I’m a Thug”. They’re in the “game” cause they sell weed to their friends and know a guy who can get Percocets. Probably got a karaoke machine in the basement they’re making a demo tape on with some recycled beats thinking they’re gonna be tha next Eminem.
What I’d really like to do is scoop up all these wannabees I can find, put them on a bus, take their cell phones and wallets and drop them off in the middle of North Philly. We’ll see how gangster you are then. Shit done changed then, walking out of North Philly with no shirt on cause a group of real thugs approached you and said they didn’t have a Ed Hardy shirt from Macy’s but wanted one real bad.
It makes me laugh. Acting like a thug while being raised and currently residing in the suburbs is oxymoronic. You get ZERO street cred for that. Have one of your friends shoot you in the leg and say it was over a drug deal. Then maybe people will take you seriously.