It’s hot in Scarsdale, but Lil P still sports his thick red beanie –he won’t be caught without his colors. These three boys in black, he thinks, must be sweating even more.

“Looks like some APA chump come downtown all alone!” says the lead.

“Y’all MLA punks best back up offs,” snaps Lil P. “Your pages is numbered.”

They go cold. “Nobody disses our style,” snaps one, stepping up, but the lead restrains him. He and P both hear it: somebody’s rig bumping, nearby…

Then the Turabian hoods roll around the corner, grinning, and all of them break sweat anew.