When all the factors are carefully examined, I am confident the prevailing opinion will hold that my rapping skills exceed yours by an order of magnitude. I shall now lay out the key points of my thesis.
Of these factors, chief among them include but are not limited to (1) my ability to compose rhymes that are “dope,” i.e., among the most unique in the “hip hop” song genre. (2) My self-assuredness with a microphone, which I will describe in detail—almost as if you are witnessing me actually rapping. And (3) beats that inspire you, the listener, to wave your hands in the air as if you have other, more pressing concerns.
I will also highlight my rapping skill by dismissing yours, drawing attention to the lamentable quality of your rapping acumen. What follows is a sharp contrast. All who read this will know that I am the superior rapper, and that you are “whack.” By which I mean your rapping efforts are unappealing.
I possess ‘killer’ rapping rhymes
First, allow me to present the case for my rhyming skills. My ability to find words that have similar-sounding endings (and, in addition, insert them into pleasing verse) is without question in the top tier of competitors in the rap field. Indeed, I could even rhyme the word “improvisational.”
Of course I could demonstrate my rhyming mastery by quickly producing a rhyme suitable for my rap music, but I will not. Any written example I might provide would be futile in comparison to my creating a free, or “improvisational style” rapping rhyme. The words would fall flat because you would know that I could have easily looked up the rhymes on rhymer.com.
Where do your rhyming skills fall on the spectrum? I can only assume they are at best mid-level, and at worst nonexistent. Have you written an essay extolling your proficiency in the rapping arts? No, you have not. I am the only rapper who has presented the details of my superiority via a well-thought-out essay. Therefore your rhyming skills are likely unimpressive. Pitiable, in fact. To put it charitably, you are a “punk,” an insignificant mollycoddle.
My evocative rap lyrics have inspired no fewer than eight incidents of homicide in the South Central Los Angeles area, as well as a riot. Nonetheless, my words will achieve a mellowness suitable to give any ladies within range of this article an eargasm.
My mic rapping ‘skillz’ are considerable
As to my self-assuredness with a microphone, I am not holding a microphone at present. I am in fact typing on a keyboard. But if I were holding a microphone, I would be holding it as if I had been born with it, hyperbolically speaking. And I would recite my rappings clearly and directly into it as I entertain in great number. You, meanwhile, would be emasculated by my mellifluous voice and easy manner. My sheer confidence with regard to rapping would unman you handily. You would walk away in defeated silence, raising suspicion that you were born without testicles.
You will not find rapping beats more ‘thumping’
And that leads to the final factor, my beats, which numerous rapping experts have considered exceptional in quality. Some have even referred to them as “dope.” If I were rapping at this moment, you would feel a distinct thumping, as if your entire body were vibrating to the pulsating rhythm of the bass and drum track backing up my superb rapping performance. It is difficult to recreate this feeling in writing. Perhaps you can replicate it by simply repeating, “Thump-bump, thump-bump.” While doing do, imagine me talking over that sound, detailing my skills as a master of ceremonies, I will make up clever storylines and evocative imagery that diminish you in a humorous and cutting manner and, of course, make the entire club “jump,” as it were.
If you conduct this brief exercise, I am sure you will find the experience akin to my having nonconsensual anal intercourse with you.
In conclusion, I would like to drop the microphone on the floor in front of me, as if nothing more could or should be said. If you deem yourself worthy of speaking after me, you must endure the humiliating gesture of bending over to pick up my microphone, satisfactorily illustrating to all in attendance that I now own your inferior rear end.
Looking for more from Scott Dikkers on Grit Daily? Check out his column, here.