In between phone-calls in the back part of our office, I start up Rambow’s newest “Cold Sweat,” and that intro coming in like a heat on the boil. My coworker asks, “Is that you back there?” And the beat kicks in just in time to answer his question. Steady into a stretch wrapping around ones finger like an itch, insatiable. Eyeing the caandy, daddy. Let the beat ride out and forget your sweating in the middle of the street dancing in a downpour of pure club enhancements. A frame and the locals. Slam dunks and shit. With the lipstick on, and nail polish. Sucking em down. Rambow in a minimal gaze. A “Cold Sweat.” Good morning, sister:
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