You don't know struggle unless you ate this cereal...

b_low_brown

Daddyface
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Y'all talkin bout the struggle :childplease:

My mom would make us chicken for dinner one night but take off the skin & bones

Next night dinner we'd eat the skin

3rd night dinner we'd chew/suck on the bones with Tabasco sauce
 

Swiggy

The King of Comedy
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Y'all talkin bout the struggle :childplease:

My mom would make us chicken for dinner one night but take off the skin & bones

Next night dinner we'd eat the skin

3rd night dinner we'd chew/suck on the bones with Tabasco sauce
If that fukkin chicken was your pet on day 0, you won this game :ohhh:
 

"It Was Always Jerry"

New Season, Same Problem
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Cooked-pasta.jpg

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ketchup.jpg
stolen borrowed from the gas station
 

DPresidential

The Coli's Ralph Ellison
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Old Brooklyn
So we just gomna completely forget about
IMG_0531.jpg
Or that juice that came in the metal can that no one ever opened all the way...just used the can opener to poke a hole in that bytch. Wish I could find a pic of it
:lawd:\


Let me set the atmosphere that this was best enjoyed...Something that every 80's baby and beyond can appreciate.

A New York Summer with the wind blowing a teasing warm air, definitely not pleasurable enough to cool you off as the Hot sun is baking the cracked concrete of Brooklyn. Yes Brooklyn, Old Brooklyn, not even a dream of a Basketball stadium o overarching gentrification exists yet, and the African american, Caribbean american & African culture warmly blanketing the Borough in such a way where traveling block to block makes you feel like you should have a passport handy. But you don't, all you have is a faulty beeper, a token & a few quarters.

Your ears light up & come alive when a honda civic stops at a light, its window down, but the air conditioner still on, the driver hot & cool all at the same time. Playing from the speakers is a symphony of beats & voices, a song that makes you feel..like New York. "Whooo oooo oooo, ooo, If I Ruled the World". You stop, instantly feeling how special the sound is to your ears, before it continues its play through, a bomb is dropped and a music magician, Funk Master Flex replays it 2 more times, all before the 57 second stop ligh tthat the Honda Civic is stopped at, but still creeping into the intersection, leaving you wondering what it is the driver is rushing to. A barbecue? A fly shorty in Bed Stuy? Or just tryingt o finish up his errands that his mother let him borrow the car for. Who knows, as you repeat the words beautifully uttered by Lauren Hill & Nas, you feel your throat parched.

Not a city park near & the heat baking down onto your fitted, you walk into the corner store. Greeted by the tease of an air conditioner, you quickly realize its not on but nobody seems to notice. You step over a brown dusty cat that seems to own the bodega & you walk past the water bottles, you walk past the soda & grab the best beverage that your 24 cents could grant you. You grab a quarter water.

As you walk back out into the broiler pan that is Nostrand Ave, you use your pinky finger to pierce the seal covering this red concoction. As you place the beverage to your mouth, throat in dire need, you close yoru eyes. Nothing but water, sugar & food color, as it hits your palette, the taste is nothing short of magnificent. And as you keep your eyes closed to savor this unique taste, the Honda Civic pulls away w/ Nas & Lauryn Hill's voices going into the distance with it. Not knowing, that that taste will one day be gone forever, just like you Old Brooklyn.

:to:

fukk Gentrification.
 
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