video: Straight Outta Dunwoody
Living in DC, it’s impossible not to be asked where I’m from. Of course, I tell people “I’m from Atlanta… well just outside Atlanta… y’know, in the suburbs. … Dunwoody, all right? I’m from Dunwoody!”1 And anyone that knows the area knows that this immediately categorizes me as a bourgie snob.2 Yeah… well.
Police in my neighborhood every single day,
Because the sheriff lives right above me.
To get in my place you better have a gate pass…
Or I’m snitching on your ass.
And to be honest, it’s a nice break from the “Sh!t _________ Say” video meme. 🙄
1 Though technically we were on the fine fuzzy fringe between Dunwoody and Doraville, but from what I learned about most of Doraville after leaving, I’m more than happy to say Dunwoody.
2 My father decided that we would live in a fairly upwardly–if not upper–middle class neighborhood that was pretty diverse in that “we have one of those families living here” kind of way. (One Black family, one Jewish family, etc.) After we made friends at school and around the neighborhood, my father decided he was displeased with how few Black friends I had. He never saw the irony.