I stare at somebody who looks like me on the other side,
I tell him to go runaway and hide.
But he does not hide, he just stands there...with poise.
I know he will give the crowd a lot of noise.
I walk outside to see this white trash standing there,
He was wearing a black suit complete with a black tie.
I gave him an eerie stare, but he said he wasn't here to say goodbye.
He was another newbie, a pretender. Better make this fair.
Everybody knows that this crowd is my circle.
He looks like he needs a touch of red, blue or even purple.
"Looks like you are going to shit yourself." That's a good start for my rap.
Better put on the pressure, I'm sure he's going to tap.
I continue rapping like never before,
Never holding back, asking for more.
Even though it’s against a white piece of trash,
This brown guy is going to thrash.
I finish my rap by saying something about his mother,
It’s easy, nobody can outflow my style of art
I know he’s going to mumble from the start,
“Send this guy back to the shore, he won’t be a bother.”
White trash swishes the microphone away from my hand,
He takes a deep breath and signals to the band.
Nervousness is absent.
A silent buzz from outside is present.
“You look like a guy who’s on dope,
Don’t make me slap you silly,
Hey, I heard you slept with a guy named Billy.
You know it’s the truth so don’t mope.”
How does he know about me and Billy? Well, he’s got me angry,
Doesn’t he know I’m from Mangere.
White trash is still flowing with his rhymes.
And I have to listen to him for the whole time.
“Have you looked at yourself lately, you look like a hobo.
Actually don’t look at yourself; you could break the reflection,
Do you want me to give you some more attention?
Because finding a chick for you, is a no go.”
He makes me feel like a guy that should be sent in a package that reads…do not open.
That prick has started to scare me because the crowd has already spoken.
I feel like breaking his rhythm by shoving a broomstick up his rear,
Too bad that cannot happen because the crowd might interfere.
He’s about to go through his final verse.
His words are affecting me… emotionally, better not rage a tear.
How do I get out of here?
Well there is only one way, listen to his curse.
“You still look dirty, go take another bath.
You know that’s true, join in and laugh.
I got one more thing to say too,
You were born so ugly your mother had to be drunk to breast feed you.”
The huge roar from the crowd gave away the signal... beaten, defeated.
My own people... pointing at me, were laughing so rightly.
I shouldn’t have taken this too lightly.
He has my respect, white trash - never to be repeated.
While everybody disperses, I conceal a pain they cannot see.
It is suffering and shaming, a bruised ego in me.
I should remember to not leave my dream lifeless
Or repeat that embarrassing reaction when I went under – 'priceless.'
I walk around the parking lot alone,
Thinking if this was something people will forget.
It was definitely a night to reflect and regret.
Anyways, better get to the streets...there’s no place like home.
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4 comments:
Well, this is my complete version of my fan fiction. My first draft was less than 400 words, however I added more scenes to the poem which totalled in 875 words for my second draft. After reading my second draft I realised my piece of fanfiction was based on too much describing and may likely cause confusion among readers.
So I decided to take out scenes that don't belong and I eventually ended up with a completed piece of fanfiction of 600 words. I know its short but I did not want the reader to get bored reading a 900 word poem. please read and bring your best criticisms forward...
You worked out a rhyme for purple; isn't that supposed to be impossible? :P
Yeah, sure, it's quite loose, but in the context of a rap it seems to work well.
Good use of slang - "I'm sure he's going to tap."
Interesting how you eventually lost; but it's better to get done in by a good line? "You were born so ugly your mother had to be drunk to breast feed you", Hah!
Seems to have a lot more dignity, I didn't find it annoyingly mopey at the end.
I think it flowed well. Poetrys the hardest form of writting in my opinion and you did a good job. I like the way the story changed from thoughts to spoken words.
There were parts that i found really funny, I particulaty enjoyed,
"Hey, I heard you slept with a guy named Billy.
You know it’s the truth so don’t mope".
'How does he know about me and Billy?'......
Possibly a little more descibtion could have been beneficial. I haven't seen 8-mile, even though I know the plot I found it hard to relate to charaters and visulize settings.
I liked the depiction of the main character at the end. The best freestylist in the area who is knocked of his throne by a fresh, unknown talent. He's no longer king of his domain and has to face reality and take his 'bruised ego' back to his home on the streets.
You did a great job with such a hard style of writing and a fairly touchy topic. There were a few moments in the rap that took me a while to understand, mainly figuring out who's speaking. Other than that i think you did well to convey the atmosphere of the movie itself, yet in an original and cretaive way.
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