In the centre of the sprawling Nightingale Estate in Hackney, east London, a gang of 16 tough-looking young people walk purposefully around, waiting for something to kick off. A few local young people with pit bulls gather to stare, sizing them up and wondering what they are doing on their turf. A sound system is rolled off a van, microphone stands are set up, and the strangers start to rap in strong New York accents and begin to break-dance. The Nightingale crew weren't expecting this. They ring friends on their mobiles and, slowly, more emerge from their flats and stand watching, guarded at first, then curious, and finally, nodding their heads to the rhythm.
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