Something from Nothing: The Art of Rap Page #12
Those people were sold,
um, in a dozen.
going back and forth
with each other,
saying, uh, well,
"your head's
bigger than your neck,
"and that makes you
a lollipop.
"Ahh. Your mother
is so this,
I could do that."
"Ahh." And everybody
would laugh at you.
Then it eventually
became the dozens.
So the idea
of battling,
coming out
of this tradition called the dozens,
where you verbally
attack your opponent
and your opponent
verbally attacks you
until somebody
breaks down and either wants to fight,
cries, whatever it is,
or... or a judge
deems the battle won by either opponent.
This trickles
over into rapping.
It was zulu nation
that first
brought up the idea
of we don't have
to shoot at each other
or beat on each other
or... or this.
We can actually
use this tradition of the dozens
to actually
have verbal warfare through art.
Defeating chino's
an oxymoron
Like happy marriage
churches all around
My neighbors
are tired of people
Worshipping outside
of my house
These entertainers
names and lines
I started those
Big chino created
from god's particles
What flows from
my abdominals, abominable
Nonvulnerable,
part animal
Dark paranormal
like ghosts
Man, I hate these rappers
"Why don't you off 'em?"
I hear it often
When I'm gone, son
They won't be worth
a splinter in my coffin
But once I auction off
my crown of thorns
There's no more
Me fall is what they
invented the word "never" for
Every rapper should
change their name to nas
'Cause when they ask,
"can you outspit chino?"
All you'll hear
is a lot of "Nah" s
If you say the right
combination of words
"ooh," or, "I agree.
That's right.
He does look like that,"
you know,
then you win the day.
I'm wise, you could
learn it from me
Impregnate you
with so many bullets
You could take
maternity leave
I'm gonna say this
And I say this
with a jaded cadence
I'm dedicated to hatred
Escaping off
satan's playlist
I'm dangerous
when I communicate
What I'm thinking,
brain-dead
I'll spit in morse code
Write down
what I'm blinking
Rhyme contortionist
Shot my way
out of hell's orphanage
Using a slingshot
and live scorpions
Some guys that use
vocabulary as a weapon
almost just
to brag or show.
So kind of what I do
in that sense
is like, um, braggadocious,
rhythmic vernacular
Designed to back you up
I back it up
with the spectacular
Yet just a fraction
of my perpendicular
With no particular
linear structure
I'm giving you ruptures
As I erupt
into your cerebellum
I tried to tell 'em,
I open a vortex
Your cerebral cortex
sends a reaction
That has 'em
like a spasm
Upon further review,
you see it was lyrical orgasm
How did it happen?
You can't even describe the vibe
What was the essence of god's
presence felt inside?
Bestowed upon you from
the moment I dropped it on you
I strike like a diva tonight
and can't nobody warn you
I'm on you,
I got that truly godlike
Metaphysical,
neolithical
Ask what you see in me,
lyrical deity
Hip-hop's pantheon,
one step beyond
So I stand
beyond whatever shaitan's fans be on
I lights 'em up like neon,
locks 'em down like deion
Reclaimed my title
three times like ali when he beat leon
And that's what I be on
for the peon
I remember the first
rap battle I ever lost,
and I had this,
hey, chris, you want to see me?
You running like
a squirrel up a tree
So I'm like, you know,
I'm like a little kid and stuff,
and I had this
whole thing planned,
'cause I was supposed
to be the rapper,
and this one dude was
feeling like he could beat me in school,
and, um, he had this...
His rap, uh, Nah.
This whole thing,
he said, "man, you know what?"
You gotta go first.
You gotta go first."
So I spit this
whole long rap, and he's like...
He's like,
"okay, cool." And he said, "yo..."
Uh, his response
to my rap was,
yo, what's up?
My name is chris
Let me
tell me one thing, you smell like piss
Right? And everybody's
like, "ahh!"
Everybody
started running off,
so I lost
my first rap battle.
Part of the reason
why my raps are so simple now.
Way more simplicity,
just get to the point,
you know.
Penitentiary chances,
the devil dances
And eventually answers
to the call of autumn
All them fallin'
for the love of ballin'
Get caught
with 30 rocks
The cop look
like alec baldwin
End-of-century anthems
Based off
inner-city tantrums
Based off the way
we was branded
Face it, jerome get
more time than brandon
And at the airport,
And tell me
that it's random
But we stay winning
This week has been
a bad massage
I need a happy ending
and a new beginning
And a new fitted
And some job opportunities
that's lucrative
This the real world
Homie, school's finished
They done stole your dreams
You don't know who did it
I treat the cash
the way government treat aids
I won't be satisfied
till all my niggas get it
Is hip-hop just a euphemism
for a new religion?
The soul music
of the slaves
That the youth
is missing?
But this is more than
just my road to redemption
Malcolm west had the whole
nation standing at attention
As long as I'm
in polo smiling
They think they got me
But they'll
try to crack me
If they ever
see a black me
where they couldn't sack me
If a nigga ain't
shooting a jump shot
Running a track meet
But this pimp is at the top
of mount olympus
Ready to the world's games,
this is my olympics
We make 'em say, "ho,"
'cause the game's so pimpish
Choke a south park
writer with a fish stick
I insist that y'all
get up off of this dick
And these drugs,
niggas can't resist it
Remind me when they try,
to have ali enlisted
If I ever wasn't
the greatest nigga
I must have missed it
I need mo' drinks
and less lights
And that american apparel girl
in just tights
She told the director,
"I'm trying to get into school"
He told her,
"take them glasses off and get in the pool"
It's been a while
since I watched the news
'Cause like a crip said
I got way too many blues
For any more bad news
I was looking at my rsum
Feeling real fresh today
They rewrite history
I don't believe in yesterday
And what's
A f***ing roach,
I guess that's why
They got me sittin'
in f***ing coach
My guy said I need
a different approach
'Cause people is looking at me
like I'm sniffing coke
It ain't funny anymore,
try different jokes
Tell 'em and hug and kiss
my ass, x and o
And kiss the ring
while they at it
Do my thing
while I got it
Play strings
for the dramatic
Ain't none
of that whack sh*t
Act like I ain't had
a belt in two classes
I ain't got it, I'm Comin'
after whoever who has it
I'm coming after
whoever who has it
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"Something from Nothing: The Art of Rap" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2025. Web. 13 Jan. 2025. <https://www.scripts.com/script/something_from_nothing:_the_art_of_rap_18466>.
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