Yo, is it just me or do rappers start fallin’ off when they switch up their whole vibe to become fashion icons? Like, we was rockin’ with Meek Mill heavy when he was fresh off them nappy braids, low cut ceaser, joggin’ suits and them classic leather joints. He had that Philly grit—jeans, tee, leather jacket, and some Timbs. That was the look. That was the energy. Then boom—tight Gucci jeans with the snake on it? Scare work. We ain’t look to Philly for designer, we looked for that thoroughbred street look. Same goes for Lil Baby. He came in with that raw Atlanta flavor, now he out here in bell bottoms and baddie shorts showin’ off thigh tatts. Ain’t sayin’ it’s bad if it’s done right, but some of these fits be OD sus (No disrespect to LGBTQ) . It’s like once they get a taste of that high fashion life, the music start takin’ a backseat. They stylin’ for Paris but forgettin’ the block that made ‘em. If you gon’ switch it up, at least make it streetwear that speaks to your story—no...

  ">This one right here? Yeah, this topic hits home. Real deep. Back in the late '80s, Run-DMC had the streets rockin' fly gear  without  being a walking billboard. No big logos, no promo stunts—just raw style clean fits and shell toes. That is, until Adidas saw the love and cut the check. Respect. But even before that, Dapper Dan was already flipping luxury brands in Harlem, remixing Gucci and Louis with that golden-era drug game flair. He wasn’t just sewing clothes—he was sewing culture. Then came the '90s, and hip-hop started birthing its own fashion babies. We weren’t just wearing the culture—we were  creating  it. Karl Kani, Maurice Malone, and others laid the blueprint. By the 2000s, we had a whole movement: FUBU (Daymond John), Rocawear (Dame & Hov), Phat Farm (Russell Simmons), and yeah—even thought he's on trial right now Sean John (Diddy) had Wall Street wearing suit and cats suited up like they were stepping into the Source Awards. ...