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Public Service Announcement. [Urbanised.]

This is 100% on-the-spot freestyle rap, from my mouth to the paper. A good bit different from my usual stuff. The profanity may be hated, but it's used because it fits the mood and it happened to be what I said.

He uses the red bandana to catch all the drips,
fuckin' Crips,
split his lip and smashed his car all to shit.
He won't have it,
the shoe simply does not fit;
he must forget,
he knows, and with indignation he spits.
He hates it, remembers after they jumped him in,
washing down his past with a fat blunt and some gin.
He's a hardcore nigga, though he's fucked up, he grins.
He knows them fuckin' Crips are gonna need plastic chins.
He can't get out, his options are all fuckin' shot.
He's been assigned to an overly active spot.
He creeps the plot,
the blood on his face starts to clot
with all the spite and anger he wishes that he could not
have to deal with, let it go and leave the damn place.
But he's smarter than that; his deserted broes will be on his case.
Like fingers on rectangle tables he'll trace;
silently pace
the lot armed with nothing but a knife and some mace.
He knows that right now he's secure,
they're done bustin' his face.
And his buddies are on the way;
there are some Crips to chase.
It's gang violence,
these motherfuckers keep their pistols silenced.
A cap busts but cops know not to even try it.
They're dyin'
on the streets, but this shit ain't a riot.
It's quiet,
it's life, believe or deny it.
You try it,
wearin' flags with your brothers,
hanging out with kids who do not know their own mothers.
Your calm is gone early,
bitch you can't quite rely purely
upon spite.
This your own fight,
your own motherfuckin' curb to bite.
It isn't quite
the heaven that these fuckin' impressionable kids might
sign up for,
takin' hits to try to not be poor.
They hate your
smug satisfaction and gang lore.
But they need protection, and
niggas offer more
in big groups wild with hate
armed with Tech-9's and smooth-bore.
This isn't somethin' they preach about
at school convetions,
nah, bitches don't want to bring attention
to the problems they forgot to mention
'til they had to expand facilities for juvenile detention.
This is the jungle, nigga, don't you be expectin' a pension.
You gotta work for every cent,
like a fuckin' collection
of rare art, a Renaissance fuckin' recollection
of the memories that anthropologists are inspectin'.
Tryin', not gettin',
anywhere with their lessons.
There's a characteristic that the O.G.'s will demand,
the capability to be that single man
to sit directly beside the ruler's right hand.
And take a stand,
deal out justice, reprimand.
But the leadership's fucked up, the principle gone.
Ask Tookie's ghost to see what the fuck's goin' on.
He'll tell you that all his ideas went wrong
in the hands of the corrupt; that's why I'm spittin' this song.
Niggas ask why we can't all just get along.
You fuckin' kidding? This shit is like Vietnam.
Guerrilla warfare, the Neo-fuckin'-Vietcong,
and you fuckers have the gall to ask us what is wrong.
But a real motherfucker like me doesn't quit;
to give in to this ridiculous wanker bullshit
would make me little more than a wannabe bitch.
From where I sit,
these issues are far more important
than spittin' rhymes about drinks, blunts, and big-ass tits.
Niggas wasted in the streets, you seem to forget
that your people are dyin' every goddamn minute.
And if you motherfuckers think that I don't give a shit,
crank up your hearing aids just a little bit.
And listen just a little closer
to the words that I spit.
Remember me and my message;
you better believe it.

12 Mar 07

Rated 9 (8) by 1 users.
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Wow- I'm speechless. This is awesome! I would love to hear it!
 — ky_diva

Hmmmm...yep.  It's Rap alright.  It's hyper vocal, hyper syballic, angry, violent, profane; all that.  The rhyme(s) seem to get lost from one another in spots and that causes "clunks" in the flow of the overall rhythm.  Maybe break this up into smaller sections, go back, tighten up the meter where u can and see if you can't make what doesn't flow, flow.  I'm not one for all the profanity, myself, however, I WILL use it to drive a point home.  This is reminiscent of say, House of Pain, Cypress Hill-kinda Old School Rap.  It's...it's definitely an attention grabber.  My only advice to those who write Free-Style Rap is that it make sense and not just appear to be a blunder of forced rhymes for the sake of rhyming.  There has to be some degree of urban/social sensibility about it.  Take Common, for instance or Tupac.  I'm sure you're familiar with both of their lyrics.  On the whole, I'd say you're off to a good start, but for now, concern yourself more with cutting out the cuss words.  You don't need 'em.  MLK didn't.  Neither do you.  Why be like the rest when u can be like the best?  Word up.  Peaceout.  Starr
 — starr

I reread it one more time and upped the rating to a "9."  It really is awesome, awesome writing/rappin'.  You GO!  Also check out Teena Marie's "La Dona" CD on Cash Money Classics.  She's an Old School R&B Vet, but can outrap the best of 'em with incredibly creative and original lyrics.  
 — starr

garbage...boring...predictable...tired...be original son.
 — unknown

rage on! spit it out. from one slammer to another, damn this is good.

thank you

 — ilenelush

Unknowns suck, especially when they don't have the balls enough to identify themselves when they're being rude.   See?  I'm being rude and I'm not afraid to post who I AM.  
 — starr

Thanks to everyone who commented. As I said, this isn't my thing when it comes to writing, but I've been messing around, doing it from time to time since I was young.

Starr: Interesting pair of comments...does this mean you changed your mind about the earlier-mentioned flaws? I'll skim over it again out loud, maybe fix any rhythm problems that remain, but as I said, I was writing this in my mind as the beat was going and the words were coming out. So my rhyming's not perfect. =\

Iline: I've read some of your work, and I'm pretty sure I even posted a comment. You're amazing at slam, and I really appreciate the encouragement.

Unknown: Tell me what's more original than a person's spur-of-the-moment thoughts, and I'll get back to you.

 — unknown

Overall, I consider this a good flow, though I do feel theres too-much going on here. It covers too much at once, perhaps you should chop-it-down a bit, maybe make more than one poem out of it. I wouldn't call this a freestyle-rap, I'd call it a "rap" that's it, but not freestyle. I would though say that it is written in freestyle—style; meaning, that it was written with rhymes coming quick, and split at ends—fast. The reason I wouldn't say that it's a freestyle is 'cause you said the lines then wrote them. From mouth to paper, over and again. There's pauses there, there's thinking there! Unless you rapped it out loud to a tape recorder, then pushed play and wrote it down, (which I highly doubt) it isn't freestyle-rap. It's simply written in freestyle—style. Like I said, too much going on, in true freestyle that's understandable, but since it's written, rhyming for the sake of rhyming isn't that difficult and isn't that great. Not saying you can't chop-it-up and make something good out of it.

 — elDICE