We had gang violence, regular violence, drugs, guns, too many students, not enough teachers and a terrible football team that never got that life changing coach to push them to victory like in the movies. My school was a public institution in the suburbs with inner-city tendencies. I remember wanting a pair of overpriced Evisu jeans (would see fake pair on the daily), a XXL Snowman shirt (I’m a small), and a pair of bathing apes (they probably would’ve been fake) just to walk through the gym in slow motion while “Standing Ovation” played. From boys that sold nickel bags to the chess club champion, it was a movement. Jeezy turned an innocent, childhood character into a symbol of the underworld and everyone wanted one. You couldn’t walk down the hallway without seeing one. Phone signatures were changed to “Soul Survivor,” "Trap or Die” and “Last Of A Dying Breed.” The enormous tee, baggy Giraud’s/Rocawear/Sean John jeans and high top Air Force Ones were still the standard style, but I noticed a lot of shirts that were all black, oversize, tall enough to almost reach knees with a gruesome, angry snowman on the front. His lyrics were being recited like ancient proverbs. The summer ends, I return back to high school, 10th grade, and you could feel Jeezy’s presence.