Yo blood! Hip hop... you know it's hype
When Heath 'n' I are rockin' at the [mic]!
And Beatbox Bri scratchin' at the table...
Not only are we willing, we are able!
OK, we only have a coupla minutes
For our tale (the one we're gonna spin ya...)
Now it may be fact and it may be fiction
Any questions must wait 'til the end of our diction
There we were walkin'... down the street
When I saw a pretty lady I'd like to meet
I said... yo Stevie... bum rush the show!
Let's snag ourselves a babe that is primo!
Oh... I don't know... what if she's taken?
We can always say that we were fakin'...
What if her bro is really strong?
If she's free we can't go wrong
So we started headin' across the street
To talk to the girl Heath wanted to meet
An' just as we were gettin' closer
Around the corner steps this big bruiser...
So she runs up to him all smiles and crap
He picked her up... she put her hand into his [lap]
How could she go for that neanderthal?
My hopes had risen, now they did fall...
There must be a moral to our story
If you don't take chances... your life's gonna be boring
If an opportunity presents itself to you
Go for it! Don't waste the time and argue
One more thing before we quit...
We're called Rapcrap and this is it...
This one is sheer bravado. For example, we had no "table" to scratch upon. I'm also not sure why I replaced the word "pants" with "lap," but it seems somewhat more tame. And when you're trafficking in borderline embarassing -- OK, embarassing -- past writing like this, every little bit of distance helps. And for the record, for every instance of the word "mic," I did indeed write "mike."
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