Pitchfork writer Alphonse Pierre's rap column cover songs, mixtapes, albums, Instagram freestyles, memes, weird tweets, fashion trends—and anything else that catches his attention.
Baby Osama is New York. On a Lower East Side curb, he brags about how no one in town messes with his Nike ACG boot collection. In Bed-Stuy, he turns a routine interview into a new one It ends up DVD. And, over the Williamsburg Bridge, she's lounging in the back of a Suburban with cracks in the front window as her 16-year-old little sister holds down the aux cord with a mix of Max B deep cuts and five-borough favorites. At one point, as Method Man and Redman's “How High” blasts through the busy city streets on a Saturday afternoon, Osama, born eight years after the Meth & Red song was released in 1995, leans over to her sister and says : “We need to ask dad if he remembers this.”
The goal for today is to make it to Osama's set at the fourth edition of Young World, a free multi-generational music festival started by New York rap promoter MIKE. Held at Herbert Von King Park in Bed-Stuy, the day quickly became a signature summer event for the local hip-hop community. Baby Osama, from the South Bronx, is on the line-up alongside the likes of lyrical giant Earl Sweatshirt, singer Brit Skaiwater and beat-making legend Pete Rock. It will be his first time performing in front of such a large crowd.
Getting there turns out to be the hardest part. Our guide for the day is a guy from Jersey City named Flip who joins the party a little too hard. His New York throwback playlist in the car makes him feel like himself, freestyleing every chance he gets. (He's not bad, he could have at least kept the JR Writer spot on Diplomats.) When he stops the car so Osama can get some cheap lunches at a LES empanada hotspot, Flip, a self-proclaimed Max B superfan who likes to call himself Flippavelli, interrogates Osama about her knowledge of New York rap.
He is raising French Montana. Raises Chinx. Displays Stack Bundles. Unfamiliar, but instantly curious, she suspends her lighter hunt to google the late rapper Far Rockaway. Meanwhile, Flip is in disbelief: “You've never heard of Stack? He was the great gangster. The handsome hustler. The heartthrob of the hood.” Once we're back at the whip, Flip blasts Stack's “That's Me” at full volume and Osama and her small group of trendy friends nod in the back. When the song ends, it asks for more stacks.
