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| Hip Hop Shoppe | Started by: RourkeyRourke on Jan 19, '09 15:12 |
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Rourkey stepped out of the Detroit casino and onto the bustling street. His pockets bulging from the newest winnings of the day, Rourkey knew that he would quickly have to deploy this capital before the nearest thief tried to pick his pocket. Coming across an abandoned building, Rourkey decided to open up a hip hop shoppe to entertain the masses. Rourkey worked for days to build a hip hop shoppe worthy of the finest mafiosos to enter and try their hand at besting him in a lyrical battle. Knowing himself to be the "hip hop champion of the world," Rourkey offered a challenge for the latest comers to best him. He posted a sign on the door of the Hip Hop Shoppe If anyone bests me in a battle of words, I will present them with $100,000 and a hearty pat on the back. Rourkey thought about this for a second and hastily wrote an addendum: By the way, I will only give $100,000 to the FIRST person who does so. See below for a sample rap: Don't you compare me Cause there ain't nobody near me They don't see me but they hear me They don't feel me but they fear me I'm Rourkey Rourkey turned on the lights and opened the Hip Hop Shoppe doors to all comers. |
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It's not about you, it's 'bout me I hear a squeaky voice, Must be that Rourkey Follow my words son, rap has no flow I heard on the grapevine that's it all 'bout Techno Motions to the large crowd that has assembled to watch Rourkey be verbally destroyed |
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| Reply by: Acute at Jan 19, '09 15:20 | |
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I cant be defeated because theirs no one on my lvl im like the devil bringin destruction puttin pussy's to rouble Got trouble got dramma well im packing the lama(a gun) one shot hit your top so good bye to yo mama |
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| Reply by: LuckyLuciano at Jan 19, '09 15:29 | |
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Jazz is the only music genre of this time period. If you disagree with me I will become rather self-important and elitist in response. I may even have someone come and remove this little get together you are having. How dare you heathens enjoy and wish to discuss a type of music I do not like. How fucking dare you. Now excuse me while I complain in the coffee shops to my cliquey buddies. |
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| Reply by: IAmBetterThanYou at Jan 19, '09 15:37 | |
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I'm not an evil man by any means, He called this competition, I just arrived to shatter his dreams, Although in the end he'll wish he had another plan, Hand me a clip, I swallow and spit lyrically bullets at you man, This place is about to get ugly call the nurse, Before this verse makes his head reverse and burst, Till blood chemicals squirts all over medical shirts, Mr. "hip hop champion of the world" must be nice, but watch as my rhymes shine like pieces of ice, My speech is precise, Psyche like telekinesis in a fight, You throw a left, I toss a right. My fetus type was genius like, The quickest to recite reaches for the weakest device, realizing people just reply with "Jesus he nice", Your now a lyrically dead man, I managed to damage an amateur, While you spend time slapping slackers and backpackers, My rap shatter your wack matter forever. |
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| Reply by: -AphoticProphet- at Jan 19, '09 16:01 | |
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ya all garbage my eyes done checked when i first started rourke always smells like he farted my verse is retarded i have yall in a frenzy baby an my pockets stay fat with the benj's baby Ladies my room got a spinning bed in it an my watch looks like its got lemon heads in it its exquisite bright like ambulance lights you couldnt get this if ya spent ya advance twice yall glance at the ice and be hot cuz my shit blingin try an plot an ill pop have ya shit stingin or get pistol whiped have ya shit ringin i dont fight you'll get hit with tha knife while ya fist swinging i get neck and my buddy is next i guess since im so live chicks love me the best i got powder power money respect you in debt i get 20 a check im laughin i blow dough forget stashin as long as i know what i know ima get cash in i got pills for sale an they not aspirin thats why ill put a cap in ya ass so wheres my cash at jus cuz theuy deleted my shit dont mean nothin i can still come and embaress you guys |
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| Reply by: whitty at Jan 19, '09 16:27 | |
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Arriving on the customary three wheeled unicycle, Koop casts a disparaging look at whitty before he gets his shit on. You talk about ambulances, boy you need a doctor Your momma's a filthy ho Everybody's cocked her Except for that guy Acute Who everyone hates. Word goes he's so chubby He don't ever get dates Burns all around, Still having fun? I'm off to shag yer nan Coz my work here is done! |
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| Reply by: KingOfOnePercent at Jan 19, '09 16:38 | |
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Rourkey marvels on the success of the Hip Hop Shoppe so far and drops another dope track for the crowds My rhymes will put you in the New York Times D-E-T represent ROURKESTER IN THIS PIECE Rourkey grabs the mic I come with power to "defeat", you gon need a MIC TO STOP IT I'll probably stomp on you unintentionally cuz you MI-CRO-SCOPIC Yo rhyme's a joke lemme guess, you couldn't "find the scope?" I'll have you left just like your rhymes, cause yo rhymes is broke I'm a design your face just like a kaleidoscope If you anger me, my daggers gonna COLLIDE WITCHA THROAT You act famous, maybe on your corner where you BUY THA DOPE But round here? I couldn't find you with a MICROSCOPE Sorry kid, I really wish I could say that I SEE YOU But only time I do is when you in the I.C.U When It comes to rhymin I don't care if you Christian or Anglican I'll have you stunned so bad you'll stand just like a MANNEQUIN I'm so hot, yet so cold, I'm like Jesus was Only time u couldn't feel me's under ANESTHESIA When I talk I won't take it back, cause what I say, I meant it You better believe I'm from D-E-T that makes me SO AUTHENTIC So basically I don' understand why you wanna be facing me Im worth about 10 times more then your ACV 10 cents your ACV, which is your ACTUAL CASH VALUE So tell me is it really me that your tryna battle? I come in "storming", "Whore, this" is Me, Im like a GLOBAL WARMIN So beware mofuckas cause this be your ONLY WARNIN Rourkey tips his sombrero politely and pours out another 40 Rourkey puts another sign on his wall: The contest is still open, please continue to attempt to best me. |
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| Reply by: RourkeyRourke at Jan 19, '09 16:41 | |
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Acute isn't chubby, he's actually svelte He spent time with yer nan, he made her heart melt As for dear whitty, his rhyming are hell Big deeez to him though, at least I can spell |
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| Reply by: Acute at Jan 19, '09 16:43 | |
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To IAmBetterThanYou---> This is poetry and poetry is timeless. Poets have been here since the earliest of time. Now what? Steps up to the stage: I got you Rourke, I got you! What's a rhyme to a rhymer? Nothing! I grind till the times-up. And wit my units get my dimes-up! I got your girl and-you-can't find-her. We Bonny and Cylde'ing, on our way bout to mug you for yo diamonds! See Marley got a climate! And I be so damn high, while mobstas tryin to climb-it. If I'm a bean I'ma lima! Cuz I keep that green, Rourke get wrong, he get the forty or the niner. I probably need a timer. Cuz yall gone want me to stop-in-a-minute. Cuz yall'll be hot-in-a-minute. Try to wack me and have me wit the yots(boats) and the fishes. But if you miss I'll have you poppin a wheely. That's a front to the back type motion, that'll knock you silly. Then I'm leaving yo city and I'm muggin in Philly! Feel-me?!!? *steps off the stage with the crowds mouth wide open* |
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| Reply by: JamaicanDon_Marley at Jan 19, '09 16:52 | |
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RedDevil steps up inside the Hip Hop Shoppe looking like he just got out of handsome contest and took first, second, and third place. RedDevil leans up against one of the turntables and listens to the Mafiosos spit lyrics like baseball players spit spent snuff juice. Red raises his arms in the air and waves them about almost giving off the impression that he just does not care. Na Na Na Na Na Rourkey Dog! |
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| Reply by: RedDevil at Jan 19, '09 16:55 | |
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Rourke how you calling a competition but spittin something that's already been written. try not to bite of people's material, it's not easily forgiven, That's ok though, some artist in the game need a little help to get started, Here's a lesson I can give you free of charge open hearted Lyrically bound by no man, and flame retardant, I don't burn I shimmer though rough times don't get me started, Life works in mysterious ways. Some take shortcuts to achieve their status if you may, Don't stoop to that level by spitting falsified claims. Instead sit back and leave this rap shit to a master of the game. |
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| Reply by: -AphoticProphet- at Jan 19, '09 17:02 | |
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| i think i won whos with me | |
| Reply by: LuckyLuciano at Jan 19, '09 17:02 | |
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| I don't know Lucky. It was nice but short. We'll see though! =] | |
| Reply by: JamaicanDon_Marley at Jan 19, '09 17:08 | |
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Rourkey steps back to the mic Yo I gave you some of Wayne's, said that shit was a sample Yer nan's rolls are like my words, I got many more than ample Like an African stampede, over you my flow will trample Gon chop you up quick use yo corpse as an example Yo rhyme scheme like yo nan be way more than loose When she screaming for some good old Rourkey juice If you can't rhyme, don't worry, you need no excuse Just back yo ass outta here while i tighten yo noose I'm a lyrical assassin Cuz my shit is blastin Rourkey begins to tend the register and sell some souvenirs |
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| Reply by: RourkeyRourke at Jan 19, '09 17:10 | |
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RedDevil peruses the hat and pennant selection while drinking some delicious Pom Wonderful he had snuck in. Some smashing paraphernalia you have on display here in the Hip Hop Shoppe! Has a sip of Pom Wonderful and pours some on the floor. For the homies. For the homies. |
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| Reply by: RedDevil at Jan 19, '09 17:16 | |
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im 99 percent your the funny one (kingofonepercent) this cant be over yet homie cuz i jus begun ya girl sprung when she steped into my place i had to bust a fat load on her face i was really drunk woke up with a ache rolled over jus to see i made a mistake cuz she had a fat fast not to mention a huge waist i get cake and i aint gotta be foreal my shit is ill you constipated like you shiting out steel this the deal none of yall come at me wrong cuz im smokin the bong ill choke ya mom with her own thong is that wrong? i dont really care i spit sick shit anywhere u can step if you dare or get smacked i gotta enough crack to put you back on the on the fien team |
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| Reply by: whitty at Jan 19, '09 17:17 | |
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*walks over to the register and buys a rose from Rourkey* *heads to the stage for the next round of quality poetry* Ow shit....Let me spit shit-raw. Me lose?? Let me tell-ya, hell-naw. Cuz I got something to tell-yall. I'm wit La Frat in New Orleans we selling raw, at a real high cost. Big guns that blow yo azz-off. Better "move get out the way", like Luda said-dog. (Quote from Ludacris) So I got quick feet, just in case I got to quickly. Get up out a place they tryin to get-me. Marley Mar, I'm just sickly. Show me where the shit-be. Sneak up a Rourkey like-a mix drink. Leave-a burn in yo chest. Make the bullet shells stop, twist, turn in yo chest. Leave a perm in yo chest. Better learn bout a vest, I'm never stressed, not concerned wit you pest. I'ma dope rhyme-spitter. Plus my dope-mind-healer. (ganja) Make my wrote-lines bigger. When I write mind-riddles. I'ma word engineer. I build blocks with nouns and push verbs in yo-ear. Now that's a close casket. Here Rourkey you can have-this! *takes the black rose he bought from Rourkey at the register and hands it to him* |
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| Reply by: JamaicanDon_Marley at Jan 19, '09 17:29 | |
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look dog you will never shine unless you come up with some better lines an use ya own shit instead of mine so instead of rhyme you should go get a semetery and dig ya own grave up ahead of time you wanna cop some jordans i got the better kind the bugs bunny straps and snatch the patch leather kind making dimes like twentys twice as big an they fluffy like pillows put ya right to bed most of the real killas doing life or dead i can fight but ill hit you with the knife instead or put that red light on ya head an have lead poppin out the toaster like a slice of bread i can handle gats im on fire like candle wax my pockets lump like camel backs i got crack and packs of green daddy if you a pothead or a fien just scream at me the chit chat man ill give ya the backhand i rap man but i pop gats till the gat jam i laugh at you dirty ass playa's cheap lil 30 dolla jersey ass playa's you a bum bitch cuz you dumb bitch an when the pie comes you dont get a crumb bitch i grip chrome put it to ya big dome pop off an put it right back on my hip bone(now all yall jus go lay down |
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| Reply by: whitty at Jan 19, '09 17:42 | |
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*listening to Whitty* *laughs* *walks over to Rourkey and says* Man that sounds wrote, but then again I'm still the best Mobsta. Let prove it to this clown! *heads toward the stage* |
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| Reply by: JamaicanDon_Marley at Jan 19, '09 18:01 | |
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