Ain't nothing but a G Thang
Imagine a 10 year-old hanging out with his older, flyer cousins. Here we are at the Smith and 9th Street stop and, over the intercom, the train conductor bellows: "Last Stop! Everyone off."
10 year-old: "What? But we gotta get to Coney Island."
Cousin: "This is as far as the G train goes. Now we get off and wait for the F."
10 year-old: "Yo, the G train is messed up. This train has problems. REAL PROBLEMS. This is the G-Unit train -- like 50-cent, its career is about to be over."
Bravo, little man.
Wait, but is Fitty's career over? I don't think it is. Is the G train gonna get fired? Let's hope not. At least for the sake of the Williamsburg hipster who likes to escape his drum kit loft bed to sleep at his girlfriend's much cleaner and much boozhier house in Cobble Hill. Let's hope so, for that guy.