Unbiased Reviews by Real People
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Unbiased Reviews by Real People
29TH-RAP: Yer Gonna Need A Bigger Boat, Bitch!Aug 11, 2005 (Updated Feb 22, 2007) Write an essay on this topic.The Bottom Line Ever wonder how big-pimpin' battle-emcee, mackalicious shorty-magnet and all-around playa, MC_SCADS singlehandedly took over epinions and became its supreme ruler? Read on, mah ho's and homies... . INTRO: When Lanny (a.k.a., "rated-r") said I was a wuss for attempting to wriggle out of my promise to participate in his Rap-Off (a.k.a., "I'm Going To Write These Lyrics Because I Think I’m Better Than You - Write-off!"), I'm pretty certain it's because he thought I was too embarrassed or had too much dignity to participate in a rap-off. He may have thought this because I told him as much, but the truth is, I had other projects on my mind and was procrastinating. Yep, 29th, that paragon of virtue and character, was attempting to mask his laziness with a smokescreen of dishonesty [29th nonchalantly buffs his fingernails on his shirt, then casually holds them out at arms length to inspect them]. Alright Lan-dog, I'm gonna come clean. I'm neither too embarrassed nor too protective of my delicate dignity to post, what I'm sure peops will agree, is a truly majestic and sublime piece. Fact is, I eat shame like it was cold, Saturday-morning hangover pizza. I consider the prospect of humiliating myself more of a writing inducement than a writing deterrent. I'm always trolling for fresh, new, imaginatively toe-curling ways to exploit review-writing as a way of making a public spectacle of myself. I just hope this comparatively dignified write-off won't compromise or water down the proud tradition of public disgrace and wanton self-debasement that has since become my epins trademark and legacy. THIS NEXT SECTION IS FOR HONKIES, CAVE-NUCKERS, REDNECKS, REPUBLICANS, PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN MIDDLE AMERICA AND WHITE-BOYS WHO LOOK LIKE NAPOLEON DYNAMITE. [The 1st Part Is A Rap Slang Sample & Translation, The 2nd Part Is A Basic Explanation Of Some Hip Hop Rhyming Conventions] *** PART 1: RAP SLANG COMPREHENSION TEST SAMPLE *** Please read and translate the following rhyme to the best of your ability: ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ Ahma float you folks some bio notes few mofos here be knowin'; Some 4-1-1, eeps' rebel son; The 'Ninth, done been down-lowin': "Candidate's" a cover-name I save fo' shmoozin' shorties' dads; Ma ho's and homies know me as the mackalicious "MC_SCADZ." ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ Okay, let's see how you did. Does your translation of the rhyme above look like this? ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ *** THE CAVEBOY TRANSLATION: *** "I'm going to provide you readers some personal info that few epins members who have sexual intercourse with their mothers are aware of; Some personal information that epinions' notorious trouble-maker; 29th, has been keeping a secret: "29th_Candidate" is just a persona I use to generate a favorable impression with the overbearing fathers of girls I date, But the girls and guys I'm close to, know me as God's rhyme-bustin' gift to the universe; MC_Scads." ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ That's exactly how you translated it too? Excellent. I had no doubt you'd all breeze through it without a hitch. If you run into any comprehension problems, just slow yer roll, spark up a fatty and go with the flow. Below, I've dropped a few hints to help spin you in the right direction: *** PART 2: SOME BASIC RAP CONVENTIONS: *** MC (a.k.a., "emcee") is an acronym for "master of ceremonies." A true-blue, trill-ass gripper with MC skills is not as common as you might think. The street corners and clubs are teeming with MC wannabes frontin' like they be on the real, but most of them are just fakejack bustas showin' and provin' like they really had something worth showin' or the mic skills to prove it. They don't on both counts. Straight up, mah Gs, deyz only a handful of emcee born-to-be's, like mah big-pimpin' bad self, who got it goin' on enough to "hold court" with the loud crowd. When a no-BS MC be grippin' and rippin'; bustin' mad lines, or flayin' on the mix, t'ain't nathan can mess with the mojo of the hypnotic spell homeboy puts on a crowd. An MC who's a playa and not just playin' you, can bust a beat and freestyle with G-style. The skeezers who attempt to memorize lines in advance or who front originality, yet do nathan but bite other MC's lines, quickly out themselves. A lot of middle-management MCs-in-progress can stammer through a freestyle, but only the best freestylers can master the art of "the flow." "Flowing" is when an MC rips a continuous stream of rhymes right off the top of his dome while maintaining a beat. Only the most creative and skillful rhymers can kick a freestyle composed of something that could pass for a decent flow. When MCs who dream they can bust a passable freestyle want to flex and build reps, they go head-to-head with other MCs in "battles." In a battle, two MCs take turns "spittin' their shit" (i.e., comin' at each other and gettin' all up in each other's faces via vicious vollies of venomous freestyle verse. The MC whose mic skills draw the loudest and most enthusiastic audience applause is the battle's victor. WORD! Aa-ight, eepsters. School's out. MC_SCADZ be spittin' now, so grab yer seat and read to the beat... ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ 29TH-RAP: MAD SCADZ OF HIGH-VELOCITY HELPFULOSITY COMIN' ATCHA Now bust dis, you opinion-kickin' SAHMS & Dads Ya betta getta betta setta letta-pads 'Cause no consumer knowledge-clockin' college-grads Can spit dey shit or scrap a lick wit' MC-SCADZ. Sure I'm polite and erudite, but that don't mean this dog don't bite; Playa gots to be as pleasing on ho's' ears as he be on dey sight, T'ain't no room fo' 2nd when it comes to homey's home-wreckin'; By the time I'm 1-2-checkin', yo' bitch and I be neckin'. When MC_Scads be in da house, best hide your daughters (unless they're cows); You lack the flame to match ma game, so best think twice before ya joust. Much badder bards than you, times two, now rue the day they gloated; Below, I've named my Hall of Flamed, (well, ...just the names most quoted): ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ HOW THE RAP COMMUNITY HAS RESPONDED TO MC_SCADZ' UNCONTESTED DOMINATION OF HIP-HOP CULTURE, OR, "WHAT WE ALLZ FIGGA 'BOUT DIS WIGGA GETTIN' BIGGA DEN WE IS." Dre's amazed by my wordplayz, dazed by the wayz ah turn a phrase and fazed by the blistering blaze of mah haze-displayz; Jay-Z payz me to let'im praise me; How I spent 50 Cent, I cannot be sure: 50 cents don't seem ta flow that far na'more, I dist Twista in a fista like he be ma little sista; Who knows what became of The Game after I put'im to shame with the mah freestyle flame, I outclassed and out-sassed OutKast, who couldn't outlast the bombast of my shoutcast; Whoever resurrects DMX from the vexing effects of my X-exing hex, should expect to recheck X's neglected reflexes, reconnect X's solar plexus, correct the intellect defects in X's cerebral cortex, and help X "come correct" if he recollects what his sex is. I put ma brand on Timbaland, Methodman and Redman (who all fanned while swingin' for the grandstand); Chris Wallace bet dimes ta dollas I'd takeover Hollis. "You Lala's true mack, ahm just a newjack compared to you, jack," said mah potna, Tupac. Run-D.M.C. done run when dey see me, Nas took a pass when he saw me Master P and get in the last word with Ol' Dirty Bastard. I gave EPMD dey rappin' degree; spat a hella shell-hole in De La Soul; Alchemist wanted none o' this, so I gave'im a dismiss from ma dis-list; Dj Quick carried a big shtick, but did a disappearin' trick before we got to scrap a lick; Tha Dogg Pound didn't last one round before I took'em down; the D-Pound now be capped & bound in a big, brown mound of hallowed ground; they were astounded when they found that they'd been pound-for-Pound out-hounded, impounded by the solid wall of surround-sound I expounded. I made Defari the sorry quarry of my spittin'-safari when I played him like Atari; After dat, I flat outspat Da Brat, smacked the smile offa Juvenile, took Ja Rule ta spittin'-school and served the emerald-phlegm on eminem; I got the best of Kanye West, then laid to rest A Tribe Called Quest; King Tee and I agree, there can only one king be, and he be me; When Company Flow failed to pump any flow, I asked Fat Joe if he wanted to go; hocked hella loogees at The Fugees and greased Killah Priest when the deceased tried to shoot the breeze (the breeze was from a sneeze I'd just released, mah g's); After Scaddy ruffed-up Puff Daddy, Daddy saddy haddy nuff ruff-stuff, pulled out da Puffy puff-stuff and rolled Scaddy a PDaddy-fatty; E-40 ignored me 'til his shorty assured me she adored me and implored me to let 'er come aboard me, then she and '40 both abhorred be when I told'er she couldn't afford me. ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ "A HELPFUL PRODUCT REVIEW IS ONE THAT PROVIDES ***SCADZ*** OF PRODUCT FACTS THAT HELP THE CONSUMER MAKE BETTER BUYING DECISIONS" --Nirav Tolia ("CAN'T WE ALL JUST GET A LIFE?" --Scadney King) Best skiddaddle If that prattle that you rattle about chattel Is what you peops call battle; grazin' cattle gots mo' battle! I'll saddle you, then straddle you and split you down the middle I'm MC_Scadz and if we spit, I'll play you like a fiddle. Rehearsing verses about merch you purchase or research is A curse that spurs, in splurgers, the most perverse purchase urges; Urges YOU encourage re-emerge in spurts and surges, So YOU should reimburse each purchase purchased during splurges! Else purge your verse of verses that encourage open purses; Use that verse to help reverse recurrent merch-splurge urges. The purchaser who searches for that perfect product purchase, Should use your verse to learn about the world below the surface. You think you've paid yer dues contrivin' views that help consumers choose, But bustin' views 'bout Underoos ain't gonna hep amass ya juice; You're just a corporate conduit; a mouthpiece for da boardroom crews, It's one thing usin' products, but lettin' them use you (for reviews)? You prod-op guys who bag the buys may stoke corp enterprisers, But prod props don't get Frito Layed, nor make Bud any Weiser, So why should I provide more buys for product merchandisers? I have to pay to use their shite; --let them pay advertisers. I'm a little shyer than you betta-buy town-criers; I don't aspire to rise higher in the' hat & badge empire, I regularly get fired from the Product-Info choir; Perhaps I post more info than eeps' higher-ups desire? If only I were wiser like you product-info guys are, I'd bang out where da buyz are like a product-info geyser: A buyers' Albert Schweitzer and a product-info Kaiser; I'd spit more fertilizer than a Books & Mags Advisor! ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ THIS IS THE PART WHERE SCADDY GETS HIS SWERVE ON, SO STEP OFF OR PREPARE TO GET SERVED: TO BORROW A BENCHLEY "BRODY" QUOTE: "(Y'ALLZ) GONNA NEED A BIGGER BOAT" --Chief Martin Brody Homey, don't try to snow me 'bout how fly yo' flows of prose be; I'm still KO'd on NoDoz from the last prose that you flowed, G. Since no prose you prod-post ho's compose should publicly-exposed, be, I hereby propose eeps' prod-promoting prose all now disposed, be. We knowz ya just compose ya prose to brown-nose CEOs, don't we? So's mebbe Ben & Jerry sendyerass some Mocha-Cherry, fo' free? It couldn't be your glowing prose ya jonesin' to expose, sho'ly? My one-eyed dobie, Toby, cuts flyer lines with his Flowbee. If my one-eyed dobie, Toby, went blind, grew deaf, got dopey, And his Flowbee forepaw atrophied; became all lame and gropey, And he couldn't lift a strand of hair, let alone foist up his flowbee, He'd STILL cut straighter-flowing flow than any flow of yo's be. Why waste ya bytes inciting fights by writing spiteful product-writes? I've read them trite, insightless writes with which you blight prod-info sites; Girl scouts have meaner pillow-fights than your trash-talk mosquito bites. Don't be contrite, step into the light, let's set-a-right these spiteful slights. Who ya think you're kiddin'? Ya afraid ta chew what you've off-bitten? You be transmittin' what you've written just fine whiles y'allz be hidden, But ya act like yooz bedridden whenz time ta commence ta spittin'; Admittin' you're a kitten is like quittin' --and that shiznit's forbidden. Don't bother to defend yo' delf, we all read what ya wrote, D'ya feel ma jaws a-clampin' on that huge lump in yo' throat? We sharks can smell the "chum" in "chump," and yours could fill a moat; You scrap a lick with MC_Scadz, you "gonna needa bigga boat." You don't have to give up "writing" just because you're a hopeless hack, Or because I could fill a phone book listing all the skills you lack; It's product-scribes like you whose text protects us from sad mishaps, If not you, then who would word the labels on our child-safety caps? As spittin' goes, yo feeble flow epitomizes "wack;" You'd need a regiment of Captain Quints to rift my snark attack So, if ya want to step with Scadz, finish up that hit o' crack, Don't bother packin' any bags, homeboy; you won't be comin' back. Word! ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ABOUT THE EMCEE... MC_Scadz is a shapeshifter and resident-alien (i.e., the extraterrestrial kind) visiting Earth from his home planet (located in the Zeta Reticuli binary solar system, a faint pair of fifth magnitude stars that be chillin' about 220 trillin miles due south as the asteroid flies, of Alpha Centauri and y'allz' home rock, Earth) on a 5-century interplanetary exchange-student visa. When he's not busy brokering intergalactic peace treaties and alliances, performing emergency road-side assists on the births of new solar systems, challenging overlooked anomalies in the laws of physics, galaxy-hoppin' with his astral road-dog, the Silver Surfer, or mackin' on hella heavenly bodies, he can most often be found redefining and revolutionizing inner-city counterculture and artistic expression, or taking over and subsequently ruling upper/middle management-challenged product information websites and their neglected communities. Due to the frequency and variety of his shape-shift transformations into the physical likenesses of other carbon-based humanoid life-forms and his inability to determine his original identity, he's not a very easy person to identify or to get to know. The following quotes were excerpted from his resume and bio. They may or may not reveal insights into this odd mofo's thought processes and motivations: "QUANTUM EEPS" [The excerpts referenced in the paragraph above are about 90% complete and will be added shortly. Peace out.] --Emcee Scadz  |
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