It’s hot as hell outside. I’m talking stifling, cursing when you open your car door, three shower a day, hot. If I had a convertible, I would have the top up and hermetically sealed with the air conditioning set to Antarctica. Only the right song, the right mood or the right woman could convince me to let the sun shine down into my hypothetical, four-wheeled igloo. T-Shirt’s “Ice Cream” freestyle embodies that magic moment. The day where you just washed the car, got a shape up and put your feet into some new sneakers is the day that no one can tell you shit. No matter how hot it gets, you’ll never break a sweat.