I <3 to Spray T.O.

The other day I went to a dollar store on Yonge Street.

I bought a shitty mic, cheap sunglasses, and about 20 cans of old-ass black spray paint.

I felt extremely hip hop.

I was rocking 2 of the 4 elements. I’ve never touched a turntable, but in university I briefly thought I might be good at breaking. I joined a club to learn, and I practiced with a buddy in our spare time. Since we practised in the laundry room (I think because there was always cardboard around?) we gave ourselves laundry themed b-boy names. He was Spin-cycle. I was Tumble-dry.

HuP!

He got good, but I just got bruised.