Indulge an old guy's babbling for a sec: Once, long ago, this here tiny li'l rap scene felt (to me, mind you) like a chain of micro-islands, isolated and out of sight of each other. There'd be a half-dozen cats or cliques thinking they were the only game in town, as they were the only game within the couple square miles of dry land that was their world; beyond the horizon, there'd be another thinking exactly the same thing. Then, as the scene grew, it seemed like one big island, with the various tribes reaching, at the very least, a rudimentary, respectful understanding of each other's existence, if not fruitful accords and collaboration. And then one day, everybody took off on their rafts, determined to touch the mainland. But now with the pendulum having swung back this way, the cycle has reset, and it all kinda seems like it's fast becoming a bunch of little islands again—hermetically sealed aside from some minimal trade in between. How, you might wonder, does one survive in such environs?

You have to make your "move-around too real," just like Seattle's fully gameful Royce the Choice said on "Throw Your Hood Up," off of the new 10 Summers tape from this era's reigning club-anthem-champ, producer DJ Mustard...

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