I had this idea getting ready for school. So yeah, it's probably terrible. And it's the last rap from 8 Mile. But of course, I've added things and shit, so please carry on with reading. Okay the video!
(Warning: A lot of lyrics, sorry!)
They flipped the coin and Papa Doc won, he chose B-Rabbit to rap. He looked pretty interesting to you, you hadn't been to any of his previous battles, although you had been to afew of Papa Doc's. The DJ started the beat. At first, the white rapper stood still, until he turned to the crowd and spat out his rhymes.
"Now everybody from the 313 put your motha fuckin' hands up and follow me
Now everybody from the 313 put your motha fuckin' hands up
Look look-"
You smiled slightly, joining in with the cheering crowd as he spilled out his raps.
"Now while he stands tough
Notice that this man did not have his hands up
The Free World's got you gassed up
Now who's afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?"
"1, 2, 3 and to the 4
1 pac 2 pac 3 pac 4
4 pac 3 pac 2 pac 1
You're pac he's pac You're pac none."
You couldn't help but laugh as he gestured at Papa Doc's gang. The Free World.
"This guy ain't no motha fuckin MC
I know everything he's got to say against me
I am white I am a fuckin' bum
I do live in a trailer with my mom
My boy future is an Uncle Tom
I do got a dumb friend named Cheddar Bob
Who shoots himself in his leg with his own gun
I did get jumped by all six of you chumps
And Wink did fuck my girl
I'm still standing here screamin' fuck the Free World."
The crowd was going wild.
"Don't ever try to judge me dude
You don't know what the fuck I've been through
But I know something about you
You went to Cranbrook
Thats a private school
What's the matter dog?
You embarrassed?
This guy's a gangster?
His real names' Clarence
And Clarence lives at home with both parents
And Clarence's parents have a real good marriage."
"This guy dont wanna battle he's shook
'Cause there ain't no such thing as halfway crooks
He's scared to death
He's scared to look at his fuckin year book
Fuck Cranbrooke."
The beat stopped, but that didn't stop the amazing white guy. He turned to the crowd and spat out his words, his voice rough and commandingly powerful.
"Fuck a beat I'll go a capella
Fuck a Papa Doc
Fuck a clock
Fuck a trailer
Fuck everybody
Fuck ya'll if you doubt me
I'm a piece of fuckin' white trash I say it proudly
And fuck this battle I don't wanna win, I'm outtie
Here, tell these people somethin' they don't know about me."
He threw back the mic and looked at him, ready to take whatever he had left. Papa Doc was frozen on the spot.
He did it.
You cheered with the crowd as he hopped off of the stage and laughed with his friends. You smiled and turned, only when he saw you. He raised his eyebrow and followed quickly as you left.
You were outside when you noticed him,"Your rhymes were sick." You nodded and stuffed your hands in your pockets.
"Thanks," he said, boyishly putting his hands in his pockets. "What's your name? I ain't seen you around here before."
"(Y/N)."
"I'm Marshall."
"Nice to meet you, Marshall." You smiled.
"Yo, wanna go get a drink?"
"I have work tomorrow," You confessed, gutted to have to turn it down.
"Oh, when can I see you then?"
You turned and started walking, looking over at him from over your shoulder,"I'll find you."
He smiled slightly.
