Sweet dreams.
What better way to celebrate the fact that your listening to the nauseating repackaging of commercial crap than by sitting back in your all-over hoody, ripping the lid off one of these babies and filling your gullet with Hyphy Juice.
Just one sip will give any tubby white boy instant hyph-e-powers™, a phrase book worth of neat-o new words to use and all the confidence he’ll need to step to a group of “urban” runners and show them how he gets stupid.
The hyphy lullabie backing music on this site sends shivers down your spine,
“Hyphy Dreams, Peace Out”