Hey party people! I see you came to the hip-hop concert too. I love hip-hop. You’ll notice I called it hip-hop and not rap. A lot of people that are my age, but total squares, call it rap. But not me, guys.
Um, I meant to say, “everybody.” I didn’t mean to assume anything about anyone’s gender identity. I’m sorry if that wasn’t cool. Do you want me to leave? Because I could leave. I really don’t want to upset anyone.
This dancing isn’t bothering you is it? I sure do like to dance. Waving my hands in the air is usually a representation of not caring. But I care, everybody. I care a lot.
This DJ is killing tonight isn’t he? I mean, not literally. I hope I haven’t troubled you with my choice of language. Violence is no laughing matter. Something must be done about what’s happening in our streets. I happen to be woke. And lit too for that matter — so I know what’s up. I know all about what’s up there. My hands, and a bunch of fucked up shit, that’s what.
I think it’s dumb that it’s not all ages tonight. It’s important that everyone gets to experience this music. Teenagers, men in their 30s who talk to strangers at shows, and everyone in between. It’s a shame and it is painfully obvious to me. We can’t deny our youth the chance to be impacted by this music. My hands may still be up in the air, but my eyes are wide open.
I’ve never been shy about helping a good cause. In fact, I helped Habitat For Humanity raise over 40 roofs in my college years. I may not always be sure how to go about it, but I want to be at the side of people who need me. Can you see my hand all the way up there? The one that’s waving side to side? It’s in a fist, bro.
Sorry I just called you bro.