Illmatic Treasure

Illmatic 10

"This is Harlem niggas! Y'all betta take that muhfuckin' shit to Queens,
ya heard? "

Are You Down? ..
Uptown Harlem

"Boy , boy Im tellin' you that girl was fine!" He exclaims like he put it on his moms, as his whistle flows throughout the barbershop's atomsphere. " I dont care if she wake up with crust in her eyes... Muhfuckin' nose running... She still one fine muhfucka to me." The head barber of the shop: The Spot 1 reminisces and brags on a young tender he saw at the food joint by the name of 'Hot Commodity' not too far from his place of business.
Every man that listens chuckles and laughs because, every story he runs is amusing in the way that he portrays it. They couldn't help but to hear his loud mouth.
"I'm tellin' you man on the real she's a nubian princess or sum. Her skin is kissed by the sun." Perry continued on as he finished off his client's cut.

Perry Matthews, Pretty Perry that's what they call him.
You know the good wholesome neighborhood man that been around for years. The man that everybody and they momma have the juice for and can count on? The man that paid his dues to and for his people? Yeah, thats him!
You could say he was sort of like that.
A stand up guy depending on who you ask.
They could relay: "Nah man, that nigga aint nothin' like that! "
They would throw salt on his name and tie him under the bus.
He was trying though, trying.

Pretty Perry used to be a P back in the day.
So, when Breeze strolls from the back of the shop after one of his regulars.
He wasn't surprised about the conversation at hand. He shook his head amused with a smirk upon his face; some things never change.

Breeze's client dapped him up all the while slyly slipping a hundred into his palm.
"Thank you for fixin' my edge son. My shit was all the way fucked." the young cat expressed relieved and satisfied sporting a goofy smile.
"No doubt lil' dude... I told ya peanut headed ass not to sit in nobody else chair."
Breeze taps the back of the teenager's head as, they chuckle.
"My fault, my fault B, he apologize as they walk to the glass door, yo I learned my lesson forreal big bruva Breeze."

This lil' dude by the name of Amir had called up to the shop two weeks before hand buggin' out to Breeze; about how a wack barber who will remain nameless scalped his Puerto Rican waves. It seemed like lil' dude's world was flipped upside down as, he ranted in english and spanish.
Breeze being the informative dude he is had to simmer and slow Amir up. The lil' dude was damn near in tears.

Breeze told Amir that he had to nurture it with a mixture of castor oil and coconut oil every night until his appointment date; massaging it in.
Learning that routine from his fiancée Ronnie. Her hair would grow back dumb fast just for her to wack it off again.
He would call her ass backwards but, he couldn't front he loves his lady's short cut.
Also , he had to cover his head until it grew back. Amir followed his advice to a T even rockin' his satin durag in the blazin' heat.
Coppin' every color to avoid being riffed on by his homies.