Joints stitched to hands like extra fingers, New York natives on a mission to push their music on an unexpecting other coast in a shitty checkered dollar van with 9 butts and 8 seats. Acid covered melted candy pieces stuck in cup holders, this ship is awash with Patwa conversations about how bad Oregon pizza is and whether to sleep in the van or sit the night out at Dennys. Our caravan of Flatbush family, well really more like a rolling boys school of righteous young rappers, waywardly traverses time, space, and culture. This tour, this moment, this sense of brotherhood and oneness, bright eyes now open to the beginning of what will probably be the end of everything but this. The West Coast had no idea what was about to hit them.

Hip hop died, went to a higher place, talked to the buddha on some secret powers shit then did a third eye tapping dance all over the hood in Brooklyn and out popped the Flatbush Zombies, The Underachievers and Pro Era. BEASTCOAST is a collective, a movement, a re-invention of what was once rap. I used to cry when I was little watching the Woodstock documentary on repeat, telling my parents I missed the revolution and my generations apathy sucks. To be honest, my journey through rap for a while only amplified my sadness for this lack of "were in it togetherness", until I came across these kids. Firing canons of spirituality and psychedelic tendencies to a community who's never heard of indigo children or higher consciousness. Flower children with punk rock elbows moshing in tye dye to rap. Fans begging to be part of whatever club Brooklyn created. Tour was trippy as fuck.

I love these kids, I feel honored that I was able to witness this collection of awesome humans on their first tour together changing the world of rap forever.

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