Riff raff age

Riff Raff is at his North Hollywood apartment, sitting on a footstool beneath a portrait of Albert Einstein, eating Froot Loops from a plastic cup and figuring out how to get his Porsche Panamera washed. He’s in the middle of a nationwide club tour, road-testing new songs from his imminent debut album, Neon Icon, and he’s got more errands on his docket than time to handle them: clean the Porsche, locate a flash drive stocked with important instrumentals, find an available studio to record a new song, and get to a club on the Sunset Strip in time to guest-rap during a friend’s concert. Somewhere in there, he’s got a meeting to discuss the lawsuit he’s threatening to file against the people behind Spring Breakers, the movie in which James Franco portrayed a cornrow-coiffed, tattoo-covered, abstraction-spewing white rapper—a categorical infringement, Riff Raff asserts, on his likeness. He only flew into Los Angeles two days ago, and he flies out again early tomorrow. “This is supposed to be a day off,”

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