I recently entered a contest to win tickets to Rock The Bells. You had to write a rap for this contest so I gave it my best shot.
This was my rap:
Now, the kids I go to school with they listen to real crap
While they’re swallowing music coming from toilets, I’m listening to real rap
A Tribe Called Quest, The Pharcyde, Lauryn the list goes on
Don’t get me wrong I ain’t saying that I’m hating Big Sean but,
I start at The Roots of rap and further I go ‘till I hit the prime cut
The Golden Age, where intellect ruled and money was a perk
Where Afrocentrism was beauty and no one knew how to jerk
I’m tired of hearing about champagne, bitches and chains
I remember when rappers were excited bout pagers and it wasn’t just dames
but now it’s all the same, switch the beat and name and call it a new artist
We used to be concerned with who could spit it smartest now it’s just who’s hardest
Now it’s just who’s more paid, and who s more played, Who’s the one who’s Got it Made
Real Rap is my church, so Erick Sermon’s sermon is keeping me out of hell
and I know that real rap is around when I start to hear them Rock The Bells.
This was the winning rap:
turn up my microphone. turn up my microphone!!!
check one. check two. i need tix to rock the bells so i can knock da boots, with erykah badu. and change ms. to mrs. lauryn hill-miller. aint no one iller than ME!mr. ryan v miller. call me what you want but don’t call me late for dinner. so what up what up…am i the winner?