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Angry M.F. Fisher puts it together again: Dense? Some might say that but cold is the first word that comes to this Girl Reporter’s mind. How, Angry? To the bone. Huh? No, not Trini To the Bone– almost as popular an expression of national pride as crab & dumplin’– it’s just what happens when you roll out of a tropical climate (my apartment is a stready 80 degrees due to blazing radiators) into the arms of Mother Nature. That bitch? In the words of Wu Tang, “you better watch your motherfucking mouth.” FACT: anyone in cahoots with Ra (peace to) the Sun God like that southeast bk development corpain’t a lady to cross, at least not when I have to shoot my own assignments because BZA is out of town. Even worse, out in the chill southeast Brooklyn streets, nobody was open yet. Not that I was expecting a haircut, Dominican pizza or a even good deal on African hip-hop or shea butter but… a little coffee would have been mighty nice. Coco’s & Ecowas, where are they now?

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