Have you ever listened to a rap song? I mean, really listened? It’s all bling this, hos that. The video is usually some dude with sunshades and a big coat gesturing at the camera as bikini-clad ladies gyrate around him. That almost never happens in real life.
"What the...? LADIES! I'm on the loo!"
So, if I had my own way, rappers would just be honest about their lives. I mean sure, some must love wearing incredibly heavy jewellery, but I would wager the majority simply want to spend their time sat in front of the TV watching Corrie.
So I’ve written the Honest Rapper’s Rap. So far it’s just lyrics, but someone provide me wit’ a slammin’ baseline and I’ll throw down some mouth juice, or whatever.
The Honest Rapper’s Rap
Y’all know me as ‘Rappa Dog’
Truth is my name is Clive
And far from braggin ’bout my life
Just glad to be alive.
I drive a Ford Mondeo
Gets me from A to B
Ain’t bothered ’bout no Cadillac
I’m told speed kills, you see.
I only really curse and swear
When I’m angry or depressed
And truth be told it’s only two
Or three girls I’ve undressed.
Not the multitude or so
I suggest in my songs
And being truthful flip-flops
Are my favourite type of thongs.
I’ve settled down with Sandra
I’m sure that she’s the one.
She doesn’t have a bouncy butt
Or bootilicious buns.
Don’t get the most attractive girls
Which I understand, you see;
It’s no surprise, considering
My meagre salary.
I don’t belong to any gangs
Or fight much, I confess
Unless you count our lunchtime club
Where we play Bridge and Chess.
So that is me, ol’ Rappa Dog
Or Clive, as I prefer;
My ideal night ain’t clubbing
It’s watching X Factor.
Bo.
If I Had My Way... 