You need to give it up, had about enough

Hey, you. Yeah, sassy black man, you. I see you.

You in your newsboy cap tilted to the side, your plaid pink-and-green vest, your flat-front khaki pants with the rain jacket and umbrella to match. Your nice brown shoes that seem to have remained spotless, despite the nasty, rainy day. You with the snarky look. You're probably named something like "Giann." You look like Andre3000 with a catwalk strut.

You want to look at my iPod as I change songs? You thought I didn't notice. Well go on, take a look-see, I don't care. But stop judging me when I skip over the "The Boy is Mine" duet by Brandy and Monica, pause and reflect on my decision, and go back to listen to the song, cranking up the volume.

You take your roll-of-the-eyes and your smirk and your triple snap of the fingers up the subway stairs and you exchange it all for a $1 tamale bought from the lady selling them out of the shopping cart, 'cuz that's all it's worth to me. OOHHhhhh shit!