POS and the Doomtree crew crash landed in the mission on one of those soaking San Francisco evenings that makes you think, “Maybe LA ain’t so bad.” As Plain Ole Bill got the decks set up on a way too wobbly card table, Stef kept quiet, nursing his road-kill vocal chords by double-fisting white grapefruit juice and piping hot tea. After his vow of silence subsided, he began to tell us about growing up different in Minneapolis and then launched into the vicious spit and 808 kick of “Savion Glover.”