"Store Bought Gangster"

Dear fake hipster Seattle hoodlum,
     
     Just because Amazon.com sent you some Dodger gear, doesn't mean you're a gangster. I'm from Long Beach. I know gangster. Your pasty fat ass doesn't qualify. 


     Drinking tiny over-priced coffee and tagging yourself at the bookstore don't equate to slingin' dope and blastin' at fools you catch slippin'. Besides, you're getting it all wrong. You can't fucking sag skinny jeans while wearing a white belt and Tom's. Those over-sized Sally Jesse Rafael glasses aren't instilling the hearts of your enemies with fear. And for fuck sakes, it doesn't matter what major league team's hat, from some city you've seen on T.V. is on your head, or how crooked it is, you still look like a fucken meat whistle. Gang bangers don't listen to Arcade Fire, and they sure as fuck don't have ironic moustaches. Look, I live here now, and I have a Mariner's hat. It doesn't make me a hippie. My wife made me watch Grey's Anatomy once too, that don't make me a fucken surgeon. 


      It's ok, I understand. You come from a place known for coffee and trees. Not very gangster. But you should embrace your environment; be proud. So get on your fixie and do a drive-by on REI and pick up some hiking shoes and a hat that looked old when you bought it, and embrace your hippie nature. And leave the gangster shit to the gangsters.