Deejay's Appeal: 'Kill The Whiteness Inside'

The dance floor throbs to the rapid thump-thump of the hip-hop beat. The deejay, Tha Pumpsta, leans against his booth, and a woman slides up from behind, grabs his narrow hips and rubs hard.

Tha Pumpsta hops onto the crowded dance floor of guys in big T-shirts dangling from slight frames and ladies in short skirts and tasseled boots.

'Kill whitey!' yells Tha Pumpsta into the microphone as he bounces to the beat. 'What . . . gonna . . . do dance . . .' he raps to the beat. 'Kill whitey!'

The kid by the bar busts out with a break-dancing move. Women drop their booties and the guys slide in close. Tha Pumpsta struts around in an all-white outfit from his headband to his high tops, shouting it again: " Kill whitey!"

Tha Pumpsta, who happens be white, has built a following in the past few years by staging monthly "Kill Whitie" parties in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, for large groups of white hipsters.

I don't pray much. You know I don't, so, God, if you're listening, "Kill Whitey. For Biff."