The illest practice spot I ever saw was at 55th and Lake Shore Drive on the south side of Chicago. We called it The Point: a small park district building that looked like a cozy vacation cottage sitting atop a green lawn in the front and a rocky drop-off into Lake Michigan in the back.

The floor was unforgivingly hard, and you went home with rips on your palm if you didn’t learn quickly where not to do ‘90s on the crumbling tiles. And the acoustics? They made “Apache” sound like it was recorded by a Mariachi band in a tin can. No, what made The Point such an ill practice spot weren’t the things you normally think of like nice floors and acoustics. It was two other things. First—no lie—the park district gave out free cookies every Tuesday and Thursday. Straight up. Second, to get to The Point you had to walk under a massive highway through a graffiti-covered tunnel that felt like something from a Mario Brothers secret hip-hop underworld. When you popped up on the other side, left behind you was the City of Wind, and up ahead was a refuge of cookies and beats.

The Point in Chicago shows that there’s a lot that goes into a good practice spot, some obvious and some not-so-obvious. And while some people are content to practice just anywhere, the topic deserves some thought because where you dance will affect how you dance.

For instance, although the gymnasiums that some people practice in are helpful because they have things soft, bouncy, and fluffy so that you don’t wreck yourself trying to imitate your favorite Korean b-boy, a gym has about as much soul as a your grandmother’s funeral. Sure, dance studios are helpful for their strong sound systems and mirrors, but overdependence on mirrors will make your crew look like extras from Step Up 3 when you finally decide to throw that routine in competition. Everybody now: “five, six, seven, eight!” Plus, if you’ve been hanging out in dance studios too much, when the floor gets slippery at Circle Kingz, you’re going to look a) mad sloppy, b) like you have no arsenal of moves, or c) like a shook one holding up the wall. The bottom line is this: practice just anywhere, and you might turn into one of those soulless crews who never quite overstand that b-boying is first and foremost a dance.

Suffice it to say that gym practices are basically like gym class: cool kids holding back and herbs trying too hard.

Now that we’ve gotten that out the way, you’d be wise to take some cues from the backbone of hip-hop and start digging for the perfect spot. There are the massive, open gym practice spots across the country that come and go, and a quick search on Internet forums can usually turn them up pronto. While these may appear attractive, let’s be honest and admit the days of battles popping off and beef getting started or squashed in such spaces are pretty much over. Everyone is “cool” with one another, not to mention they’re saving any real moves for Saturday when they’ll inevitably meet in the first round of the battle—or should I say competition—in the neighboring state. Suffice it to say that gym practices are basically like gym class: cool kids holding back and herbs trying too hard.

Not to mention, with so many toys practicing L-kicks on the side of the gym, its only matter of time before you catch one to the skull. That’s why there are the hidden gem practice spots that should be kept for just you and your crew: the V.I.P. lanes upstairs at the bowling ally; the outdoor concert pavilion where the summer symphony plays; the punk record store with the little wooden stage for shows.

You get spots like these by practicing what Bobito Garcia called the lost art of hip-hop: search and discovery. Places like these give your crew important privacy and freedom to set the vibe you want. You’re no longer subject to the suspect iTunes library of whoever brought the boombox. You can perfect new moves, get your commandos tight, and even stick that L-kick so you won’t be knocking fools out—if that’s your thing.

Securing such a spot once you find it can be a challenge. Strategically using that one person in the crew who has the “professional” job (the teacher, paralegal, social worker, journalist) can help. Even though you know that he or she is just as big of a kuncklehead as you, having that person advocate for the group from that professional position can put the owner of the space at ease or even feel good about letting you practice. For instance, a lot of people today think of hip-hop as this multicultural, multigenerational racial utopia where everyone holds hands and sings “Rappers’ Delight.” Yeah, it’s an exaggeration, but if it helps to show that b-boying does, in fact, bring together different types of people, then do it.

A lot of people today think of hip-hop as this multicultural, multigenerational racial utopia where everyone holds hands and sings “Rappers’ Delight.”

When you do find that gem of a practice spot, it’s important to protect and police it. This doesn’t mean handing out beatdowns to anyone who comes through who you don’t know. But what it does mean is looking out for any mothergrubber who might come through the spot and break a window, tag the wall, be anything but polite to a security guard, or light up a blunt. And guilt works by association, so it doesn’t matter if you know said mothergrubber or not. If anything undesirable happens in your practice spot, hip-hop will be blamed and you’ll be back to breaking in the mall. Plus, don’t forget the value of politeness.

When the spot doesn’t belong to you, treat the security guard or person who could kick you out like a king or queen (not Zulu). Bring him a soda. Smile at him. Say “Hello.” Promptly leave when you’re supposed to. If it is in a public space, make sure you’re not too intimidating to passer-bys. If people giggle and say, “Oh yeah, there are those crazy rap-dance-fight kids who are here on Wednesdays!” and then go about their businesses and forget about you, perfect.

All in all, this take on practice spots can be summarized in two of the illest bars spit over a Primo beat. On “The Best Part,” J-Live let everyone know,

J-Live got it right. Whatever it is that you practice, where you do it and what you do it on it matters. The Point in Chicago—with its bad floor, horrible acoustics, free cookies, and graffiti tunnel—definitely qualified as “cheap shit.” But when you dance on the cheap shit, every other b-boy is bound to slip.

Bustopher Jonez is the Distinguished Chair of Knowledge at Le Universidad de Sesion 31. When not engineering epiphanies at his blog—www.illdeposition31.blogspot.com—he can be found slamming laptops shut on the scrolling fingers of suspect DJs.