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Slay The Beat Started by: Principe on Jun 19, '17 12:39
Principe walks out into the streets, cigarette hanging from his lips, i begin to talk as smoke trails from the end of my cigarette.


"Good evening ladies and gentlemen.

My name is Principe, you may or may not know my family lineage, but that has nothing to do with why you are here.

I want you. Yes YOU, to stand right here in these streets, infront of everyone and slay the beat!

Stand here and kill a beat, right in the street

Now make sure you don't mumble, and make sure you don't stumble the beat

The winner will receive $1,000,000 dollars.

I'm hoping to get a lot of hollers.

I got two judges, they both need a few nudges

We got the kid, god i hope he don't kid.

And we got poppy, i hear his a bit sloppy.

But we're here to have fun, so please, i beg, put down that gun."


Principe holds out a microphone, waiting for anyone to come and take it.

(Yes i realise i cant rap, shut the fuck up and show me what you've got)
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Carlton had no Idea what brought him this way this morning, perhaps it was interest in the growing crowd, or perhaps it was something more arcane than that.   Suddenly he was standing there with a miocrophone in his hand.  "Well, here goes nothing" he said to himself.

 

I've come to this land of mafia return

    an infant in the life, with a lot to learn

 

Surrounded by family to show me the way

    doing my best to grow each day

 

each lesson learned, is a treasure gain

  and each mistake is a little pain

 

treasures and pain, they come as a whole

   trying to avoid, scar tissue on my soul.

 

not knowing if he had just made the worlds biggest fool of himself or not, he passed the microphone to whoever came next.

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I may be disgusted but I can keep a beat.
I glide through the streets barely moving my feet.

The girls all go crazy. Just look at my hair.
I'm way too handsome I know it ain't fair.

I may drive 'em crazy or I may make 'em sigh.
I just love all the ladies and I think ya know why.

I never over stay my welcome I keep moving on.
One thing is certain they miss me when I'm gone.

They may be sexy or they may be sweet.
Blonde or Redhead with a great big seat.

Smart, kind hearted, belligerent, crass
It doesn't matter I just want me a lass.

Other fellas see me coming and just step aside.
They can't compete and they ain't gonna try.

If you want my secret go ahead and just ask.
I might just tell ya or I may kick your ass.

Passes the mike.
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My name is MieleTasso and I'm here today,
To prove to myself that I can slay.

This won't go well I'm sure it'll end in disaster,
Someone had probably get the phone and call me my pastor.

I'm not here for the prize,
But to my surprise

I've managed some bars,
So please start the cars

I've sadly shown that I cannot slay,
But I'm glad that I came out for a play
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"I don't want Mike," Dub said to Disgusted, "But I'll take the Mic, please." 

 

"How hard could this be?" Dub thought to himself.

 

Watch Dub step up to the microphone

and go ahead and dub me king of this throne

Rapping's a second nature to this Irishman

Make you cry yourself to sleep like I'm a turkey's Tryptophan 

 

Y'alls rhymes are cute--four word vocabulary

Step it up, kiddos, and show your versatility

Like West Side Story y'all bee-boppin' down the alleyway

My rhymes'll rush over you like a Japanese Tidal Wave

Kamikaze your harbor and raidin' your pearls

I've seen better style from My Name is Earl

 

Disgusted, that's accurate, my feelings towards your lyrics

My lines'll keep you up like you've gone Dracula--Vampiric

Carlton, that's cute, prepare to be overrun

Because you know it's not unusual to be mad at anyone.

 

Just know theres no shame in second

You can be Keaton to my Chaplin.

Like D.W Griffith and Birth of a Nation

Let the critics come with my every beckon

Make 'em run like from the UnderWorld

Like Welles with War of the Worlds

 

Wanna be on my team, I'll make you my personal assistant

Though I admire your persistence, I take my coffee with 2 sugars and 1 cream... 

 

Dub drops the mic in ironic fashion. "Dropping the mic is still cool, right? Asking for a friend..."

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  Richard found the group of rappers growing by the minute and knew he had to shut all of them down with some sick nasty bars straight from the heart. See? Already happening. He stumbled up to Dub and snatched the mic from him, trying not to appear as drunk as he was. He cleared his throat.

 "Yeah, yes. I like drugs, and guns and fast cars. Look at my bling, I will shoot you with my gun. I have a gun for real, you don't. Even if you do, my gun is better. I'll hold it sideways, even though that poses some minor medical hazards, and I will blast you in your face!

  My beats are as shiny as my bling, and I will run over you with my car. It's very fast you see. I roll with some ghetto suburban moms who are sick of all of your shit. You cause problems, I cause solutions. You're a punk bitch, even though you're taking the time to listen to my dank ass beats."

  Richard continued to mumble into the mic, stuttering every now and then. He stumbled backwards a few steps and tripped over the curb, face planting on the sidewalk.

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Principe looks around, seeing the attention his little competition had gotten already has him shocked, hearing all of these bars being thrown about, hes lips start twitching, as he takes the mic.

"I'm not entering my own competition, I'm just bored
You best be prepared to be floored

Cos i can smash up the beat
Oh no, i got the flow blowing up the street
I'm about to turn up the heat

My tracks are a one in a million
All these bodies from theses dead ass rappers, shit i gotta be black bag binning em

I'll move oh so diligent

My flow is straight up millitant

Step up and take the fame
Get on the mic and say your name
But step back, cah i run this game."

Principe takes a drag of his cigarette, smiling, holding the mic out for the next person.
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Voices being heard from a gathering of people having turns of making words rhyme. Nothing of detailed of what to speak of as none seem to sound alike. Standing in front of the crowd she decides to give it a go. While clearing her throat she attemps the slay of such beat.

 

You'll never understand until i put the pills away

And now I've been away im lost inside this mental grave

Give me time im breathing despite of a broken mind

Heart bottom is where you can find me in due time

Been a while wow i never seem to smile

Million miles across the globe is a long road to go

But i travel partaking any damage thats on the way

So when you look into my eyes you see a lot of hatred 

A lot of mistakes theres no way to escape the bridge

If i jump i might live if i die will you forget 

That is the question im asking do you have an answer

Should i take the rope and put it in your hands and watch you grab it

Tie it round my neck and put me inside of the attic

With the other skeletons to give them somebody to chat with

Honestly you can call me suicidal addict

Put you inside of a picture of something you cant imagine

 

Out of breath and pretty embarrassed Water steps away from the crowd as she waits to hear others come forward. 

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Boobie_Clark approached the circle with marijuana rolled cigar lit, thinking bout times past. He  puffs two times in rememberance to what he was told. But he knew on the mic he gets to be a true ASSHOLE. He took the mic, took two puffs and ask the next in line to pass the cigar down....

 

I spit bars by the pound. Like chocolate? I'm like chocolate, Mr. Hershey, either way I spit shit by the pound.    

I keep Almond Joy, Snickers and Mars all bars by the pound. Unfortunately  some nut huggers went artificial for the love.

Yes I slang Mound by pound.  

 

Chunky chick asked if she could spit a bar? I smiled and replied Pound Pound? Her Thicky girlfriend licked her lips, and quoted me proudly. Pound Pound! Chunky side eyes me, askin Thicky. Heffa what's with pound pound? She spit Bitch this Mr. Good Bar, he got my Almond Joy and wants too see us Mond Pound

 

Whatchamacallit was pimpin some 4 packs.  You got bars by the pound? He spit back I only got Kit Kat. No bars by the pound. Bring kitty to the kitchen, 40 quarters pounded and restitched. 160 bars compounded to 10 bricks. Who got bar's by the pound like this?

 

This circle is my kitchen, heatin microphone stoves.

Mixin weed wit cerebellum, creatin uncut pure dope.

Mentally lackin efficient story tellin is why you missed.

Boobie_Clark, Mr. Nipples spit to split bar's like this.

 

 

He lights another marijuana cigar and yelled "NEXT"

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Kid stepped up, his heart pounding. He had heard the cool kids hung out here and he wanted to apart of it. Of course he was a judge, but Principe had chucked some sweet bars so why couldn't he?

 

When I first saw you

I didn't what was coming

Then you came out of tha blue

And ya got my heart swinging

 

Cuz damn girl

You hella fine 

Cuz damn girl

You fucking divine

 

He lay down the mic, realizing he was a shit rapper. He walked over to judges seat and layed there. Shit was better from this point of view.

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Principe, so dazed by all of the talent that stood before him passed out, for what seemed an eternity, a few moments later, The_Kid was over him, on one knee, slapping him, trying to wake him up.

"Gah! JESUS, how long was i out for? Damn, i couldn't even handle the rhymes being slain."

He takes a seat and lights up a cigarette, puffing slowly on it as the three judges huddle around, whispering. After a few breif words and one slap Principe stood up, grinning from ear to ear.

"Ladies and gentlemen,

I am sorry for the delay in this, but as you saw, i passed out... Unexpected...I know.

I am pleased to announce our winner today!

They came out of no where with the rhymes, just stone cold slew it.

Please, everyone give a round of applause to..

Dub !

My dude killed it out there, you should have received payment already!

And to those who did not win today...Keep that mic in your hands... Because there's always next time!"

Principe said loudly, for all to hear, handing the winner a brown envelope and shaking his hand.
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