Well… How can I start this other than saying that four of your favorites Mooks: NESAR AKA The Baby Face Bandit, SOME AKA The Party Animal, myself, KILLA-EF AKA Holiday Season and last but not least PITO AKA God’s Gift, went on vacation. The city selected to receive our misconduct was no other than NOLA: New Orleans, Louisiana. Down South, USA. Time for sum action.
Understand that the selected four are some of the most notorious and unstoppable mooks coming straight outta Montreal. Were some of the heaviest drinkers in or city, too. It’s no coincidence that we all teamed up to do this trip. I would like to name ourselves The Four Horsemen of Apocalypse.
With a population of just around 370,000 people, New Orleans is the major port city of Louisiana and home to cajun culture. Infamous for its Mardi Gras festival, it comes as no surprise that this is one of the biggest party cities in America. Every street corner is lit up with the sounds of jazz, blues and soul music while the smells of fried seafood or creole spices hit your nostrils like a line of uncut raw in the morning. Needless to say, besides the Las Vegas strip and downtown Memphis, this is the only city in the USA where it is legal to drink in public. Having a gulp of a 40 or sipping on some Henny street-level in broad daylight is about as normal as having a sip of Gatorade. Hell, if you don’t manage to finish your beer in the restaurant once you’re done eating, they give you a plastic cup to go so you can keep drinking outside! The International Alcoholic’s Paradiiiiise!
I’ve never been this drunk on an airplane before. The trip was totally awesome, I already got my $500 worth just by chilling in the plane. The loudness of our voices disturbing the peace was felt from the last public toilet at the end of the plane to the pilots front seat. Good friends of ours know that our conversation subjects are always next-level and can easily offend most of the human population. I don’t even need to mention what was being said out loud in the plane.
Pito chugs the Crown Royal with absolutely no hesitation. A man of this calibre holds bottles with a royal clutch.
Aaahhh, Bourbon Street… Smells like piss, vomit & ham and I’m loving it!
Introducing Big SOME! It’s only been five minutes that we’re in town and homeboy already be rocking them styles. Woooosh! Big Flavor!
The longer we were here, the more and more stunts were performed. One of my favorite parts of the trip is when I saw these gorgeous Black chicks walking down the street and I decided to show them my cock. There is unfortunately no pictures of moments like this, but anyways… As I was pulling my cock out of my pants I could hear applauses as if Gladiator Maximus won another fight in the Colosseum. I heard them scream some shit like: “WOOHOOOO! White Boy be packing some shit!” I’m like… Yup! LOL… Yerp! I love Black chicks and they love me back!
The best part of the trip was that all four of us were undeniably classified as severe alcoholics. This made things very easy. The atmosphere created a lot of drinking competition. There was No Limit, and we just so happened to be in New Orleans.
I’m so ahead of my time that I managed to travel in time. I went 20 years deep into the future and ended up chilling with my man Maysr, LOL! Whether in Montreal or in downtown New Orleans, ain’t nuffin’ changed!
New Orleans is also home to some of my favorite rappers: Mystikal, Master P and C-Murder.
The International Alcoholic is back with a NOLA beer matching the background.
The Four Horsemen of the Chepocalypse.
Oh yes, some wildlife alright! Cockroaches in my cereal! Full downnnn!
The roll of a lifetime. Shit Stains… I like it muddy and swampy… like New Orleans!
Now, our goal for the day was to do nothing else but drink, so we had the brilliant idea of executing our plan in the world-famous Louisiana swamp. Here you can see my man Pito drinking a beer in broad daylight like it ain’t nuffin’. You can also notice a disgusted man in the back and a little boy that doesn’t seem to understand what is going on over here.
Other than drinking, well, the second goal was not even to check out alligators but, rather, to disturb the peace around us. It was only a matter of time before I decided to lay my body on this gator and began singing rock songs while playing air guitar. I’m sure the families in the back enjoyed my performance.
More peace disturbance occurred when my man NESAR decided to quench the alligator’s thirst, in front of all the families, of course. Ah yes! Mook Life!
HD Visions.
YEAH BABY!!! Rock ‘N Roll!!!
Lampin’. Godammit, this Louisiana chilling session is straight off the meat rack and that cold beer must be heavenly felt. I mean damn, this is what life is really all about. God bless America.
A big shout out to our homie Rob Ford drinking a cold one to the left!
The New Orleans Sleeping in Public scene was quite up to standards, I must say. All four of us took several naps on the warm New Orleans concrete. In this picture you can see my man NESAR taking a nap next to a random dude.
Some prefer removing only one shoe.
Other people rather take off both and relax more.
A mega-HAARYOU goes on this one here. Look in my eyes and C what I C.
Well, well… What do we have here?
My dude! Super-official and exclusive. Not only did I witness him swim in the most polluted river of the states, the Mississippi, but I also witnessed him eat an entire cockroach in under ten seconds. It sure was quick but I saw those ten seconds in slow motion, full HD/Chop&Screwed. Unfortunately, there is no photo evidence. We suggested he dine on the roach, that we were willing to take pictures and such… Motherfucker ate it right away before we could even get our cameras out. Now that’s true love: Not doing it for the camera or the fame, just the love of it. Can I get a Hallelujah!?
Meet Horse. Straight from Cali, homeboy came all the way here to break bread with the Mook Life staff.
Hobo with a shotgun, Louisiana Division!
Damn! You know the best way to clear a hangover is to start sipping as soon as you wake up, preferably in a public area such as this tramway.
The order is quite important. Hennessy first, then Fish.
NESAR: We dropped by one of the biggest and most exclusive hot sauce stores I had ever seen. There was a tasting counter where you had different sauces, each rated with a spicy level from 1 to 10. One of the displays boasted one of the hottest hot sauces in the world and you had to sign a legal waiver before tasting it so that you can’t sue the store in case you die from eating it. I turn around for two seconds and the next thing you know I see Killa EF eating a chip dipped with this sauce with no fear in his eyes and not giving a fuck about none of this waiver bullshit. Next thing you know, his face turns tomato red and he starts choking out of control while tears stream down his eyes like Niagara Falls. We were cracking up at him and watched this keep going on for a good 20-30 minutes but in the end, homie recovered and the store put his picture on their WALL OF FLAME.
Hey Chromeo!
McDonalds Street Art…Now dats my typa street art… I’m loving it! Yeah! Yo and regardless, I still hate hipsters and Bansky lovers, fucking art faggots!
More epic fast food graffiti. I guess it’s true what they say about America, they sure love their fast food!
Yeah yeah, you know? Big SOME and Big EF repping hard in the 9th Ward!
We the chosen ones and God put us here to sip these fine beers and warm Hennessy in broad daylight! Can I get a HAARYOULAH!? For us dipping in NOLA is just like sticking your full head inside a vagina, it feeeeels great!
NESAR: When we travel to other cities, we’re not the type to stay only in the downtown tourist area and read guide books about monuments and statues. Fuck going to the museum, I believe that in order to have a real feel of any city you need to go to the ‘hood and see how real people live. Everyone we met told us that outside of the French Quarter this city could be a dangerous place and them boys could come jack you up real quick. Nevertheless, we still walked for about two hours down Saint-Claude Ave all the way to the Lower 9th Ward while drinking Cisco and chatting up all the local mooks.
NESAR: We pretty much stopped in front of every corner store in order to have some drinks with whoever was chilling or slanging dope on the block. I don’t think anyone in the 9th Ward had ever seen some Montreal mooks act a fool and chill this hard before, which is why most of the goons ended up being intrigued and curious to hang out with us instead of tryna rob us. DDV.
Nesar: Next thing you know, after an industrial amount of alcohol and fried chicken consumption, we’re lighting garbage piles on fire and hitting up handstyles with local drug dealers like the homies Wild Bill and Rainy Don.
You know you’re in the ‘hood when you have unattended children in diapers running around the streets at one in the morning.
My man PITO was keeping it wavy in the store when he went back to get more beer and kept falling down everywhere. We later found a security camera video of him on YouTube in one of his drunken beer buying performances: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lKuAT1chmI
This waviness didn’t end up going too well when the clerk took out a metal bar and kept yelling at us to get outta his store. J’peux-tu vivre, esti?
Hardbody action. Original chill-ass NESAR. Tong boy de l’aile. Real City Chink.
I mean, I’ve bombed abroad zillions of times, in many different cities, countries and continents, but I’ve never rocked so many tags in such a short period of time. The tagging sessions were all savage, a real rampage. I saw Nesar rock nine tags on the hottest intersection of town: Three white ones, three yellow ones and three silver ones.
So that’s it. I think these pictures and stories resume those legendary three days. It was hard to leave New Orleans. It was just like the song “Time To Say” Goodbye by Andrea Bocelli featuring Sarah Brightman. It was pretty much just like the Metro Drinking Marathon only it was being held in the streets of New Orleans. There was no: “Yo, chill out man, you’ve had enough”, or “Meh, guys, stop making noise, Im trying to sleep”. Yup, none of those faggoty words were spoken. We’re hardbody/godbody and we all live our lives on the edge. Needless to say that we truly adore extreme sensations and we constantly seek them at any given time and there is nothing that can stop us from having fun. Living life to the fullest. Knowlbeans like that definitely reflect the definition of what being a mook is, remember that! We worldwide like that. Remember, you can always catch us at your corner store.
(c) MOOK-LIFE – Read entire story here.