So very gangster...

It was rush hour, a night just like tonight. It was cold, almost too cold. The brakes of the train screeched to a halt on the platform. "This is Jay St. Borough Hall, transfer here for the F," the conductor said in his best Brooklyn accent. Thanks, I think I will. F train for Coney Island, I am homeward bound. I stand, cautiously 5 feet from the tracks minding my own business when Lil' Wannabe Jay-Z begins is accent into rap rhythm heaven. Though none of us can hear the music from his ipod, we can just FEEL it, man, it was in the air. Dressed to nine's, Gucci suit, shiny shoes, tie and coordinating pocket square. He was debonair. Quite. "Pardon me sir, but do you have any Grey Pou Pon?" His rap starts, rather mild, about some hood' or another. Only when we board this Brooklyn bound train do we all realize what a treat we are in for. Real world raps, yo. Like about sluts and tricks and grills and Bentley's. Man, he was on FIRE! It wasn't going to stop. As people's faces begin to contort into looks of disgust, I start to laugh, hysterically, in fact. "You gunna suck it or not? Bitch, I love twat...missionary, on the top. Bitch. Fuck. Hoe. I'm out selling rock, on the streets, shorty bitch." His hands in the air, he was waving them like he just did not care, ya'll. Wide-eyed Polish grandmothers and kids with their parents, all awkwardly in terror. I was winding down on my fit of laughter when he broke out his BlackBerry, "I want that report on my desk by tomorrow!" This man had employees?! Talk about a double life; thanks for the entertainment Clark "50 cent" Kent. Another Beautiful New York Moment...on the books. mynewyorkmoment@gmail.com