Welcome to this special, all-english-speaking, episode of Swedish rap-podcast VBDFR?! This episode marks the return of former-student-turnt-full-time-rapper and self proclaimed “bad bitch” CAKES DA KILLA. The day after their first ever Stockholm performance Cakes and his tour-DJ slash producer Sam Wildkatz came by our studio for a recorded conversation on such hot topics as vampire-groupie-moments, Remy Ma’s impending release from prison, Cakes forthcoming balladry-mixed-with-faggotry emotional EP, the carrying of Lil Kim, The Great Macklemore-Debate and the currently ongoing New York Banji Renesannce. Also we get live audio commentary on some current Swedish rap music, AMONG SO MUCH MORE. Get into it!!!
If you still haven’t got enough Cake after this, check out our first interview with the then young (but not that innocent) rapper, where we get things like the in-depth story on the origins of Cakes Da Killa, a crash-course in gay-cunt-culture and memories of iconic Trina-looks, all recorded on a hot summer day on a Brooklyn-roof-top. Come to think of it, it really is one of those truly iconic, timeless, essential New York cultural moments. Get it here on Soundcloud (just scroll amonst our sounds).
Chad sell is amazing and I can’t wait to buy this print.
When I was 16, I had a fake I.D. and decided to go to a gay bar by myself because some friends bailed on me. While there, an older gentleman bought me a drink. He wasn’t a creeper, and he definitely wasn’t unattractive. I accepted the drink and began talking to him. No big deal. As the hour progressed, I felt myself feeling strange. I mentioned that I felt like I had a headache, and this guy helped guide me out of the bar. As we were walking down the street, the thought of, ‘Oh god, he’s drugged me, I’m going to die’ came to my head. I tried to get away, but I was so drugged up that I could barely walk, let alone speak. It also didn’t help that I had really large ‘goth’ platform shoes because I was going through a phase. Anyway, this guy brought me to his suv and began undressing me. As a final act of defiance, I hit him over the head with my platform shoe. He then punched me, and I remember thinking, ‘Why don’t they ever give workshops to gay guys about being victims of rape too?’ While I was as careful as possible, I never saw the guy slip something in the drink. I even watched the bar tender make the drink. Anyway, I lied there completely paralyzed while this pervert was lubing up. I locked eyes with his for a moment, and that’s when it happened. A very large and angry drag queen opened the door of the vehicle and beat the shit out of my attempted rapist. She and her other drag friends helped dress and care for me while the police arrived. I was saved by a group of guardian drag queens. They were basically the modern day ‘angels from heaven.’
God bless drag queens.
I will always reblog this
Whenever drag queens are present, you best believe they will save the fuckin day.
Oh fuck yes.
If this isn’t on your blog I’m judging you.
Every time a bell rings, a drag queen gets his wings.
God bless drag queen omg
God bless drag queens.
I look terrible but only because we had a laugh fit for at least three hours that night.