Pitchfork writer Alphonse Pierre’s rap column covers songs, mixtapes, albums, Instagram freestyles, memes, weird tweets, fashion trends—and anything else that catches his attention.Baby Osama is New York as fuck. On a curb, in the Lower East Side, she brags about how there is nobody in the city messing with her Nike ACG boot collection. In Bed-Stuy, she turns a routine interview into a new Come Up DVD. And, over the Williamsburg Bridge, she’s relaxing in the back of a Suburban with cracks in the front window as her 16-year-old little sister holds down the aux cord with a mix of Max B deep cuts and five-borough favorites. At one point, while Method Man and Redman’s “How High” blasts out into the bustling Saturday afternoon city streets, Osama, born eight years after Meth & Red’s 1995 song dropped, leans over to her sister and says, “We have to ask Daddy if he remembers this one.”The goal for today is to make it to Osama’s set at the fourth edition of Young World, a multi-generational, free music festival started by New York rap luminary MIKE. Held at Herbert Von King Park, in Bed-Stuy, the day has fast become a signature summertime event for the local hip-hop community. Baby Osama, out of the South Bronx, is included on the lineup beside names like lyrical giant Earl Sweatshirt, sing-songy viral Brit Skaiwater, and beat-making legend Pete Rock. It’ll be the first time she ever rock outs in front of a crowd this massive.Getting there proves to be the hardest part. Our driver for the day is a Jersey City man named Flip, who is joining in on the party a little bit too hard. The throwback New York playlist in the car has him feeling himself, freestyling any chance he gets. (He’s not bad; he could have at least held down the JR Writer spot in the Diplomats.) When he stops the car so Osama can grab some cheap eats at an LES empanada hotspot, Flip, a self-proclaimed Max B superfan who likes to call himself Flippavelli, interrogates Osama for her NYC rap knowledge.He brings up French Montana. She brings up Chinx. He brings up Stack Bundles. She’s unfamiliar, but instantly curious, suspending a hunt for a lighter to google the late Far Rockaway rapper. Meanwhile, Flip is in disbelief: “You’ve never heard of Stack? He was the gorgeous gangster. The handsome hustler. The heartthrob of the hood.” As soon as we’re back in the whip, Flip throws Stack’s “That’s Me” on at max volume, and Osama and her small group of fashionable friends nod along in the back. When the song ends she requests more Stacks.
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