Karice
Proud Member
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2011
- Messages
- 323
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- 18
This is a story i wrote in roughly four hours. Here it goes.
Part 1
I wrote a rap song earlier. Here it goes.
"I grew up in the hood, in Harlem. My Mama was a single mom, my older brother was a gang member, I had seen at least four drive-by shootings and killingd.
My daddy was a Crack-head, cared more about his crack than us, his kids. He was a dead-beat father, hardly ever gave us a dime. He wasn't there for us, no wonder my brother's a gang member. Mama cries at night knowing what happened to my brother. We struggling to survive, and sometimes we gotta huslte just to survive. We eat givernment food, we living off of welfare, my school's a dirty school, with ratty hand me down books, my brother is a drop-out.
The hood is tough, the hood is tough, ain't no way to live but Hustle.
"Bitches wanna die, shorities wanna ride" is what my brother says in his gang talk. Bitches are snitches and shorties are hood rats. Mama begs me every night not to go down the gang way like my brother. My brother's only 19, and has mugged innocent people and robbed stores to support both his gang and our family. It's hard being a struggling Black family.
The hood is tough, the hood is tough, ain't no way tp live but hustle.
'Mama says she's gonna get a good high paying job so that we can live a better life, and so that she can bring Ricky home for good. But, she only has an 11th grade education, and can't get anything other than minimum wage.
I ain't gonna go down like Ricky. I'm gonna get my diploma, and I'm a save Ricky and mama from this hell. I ain't never droppin' out of high school, I'm gonna go to college and get a respectable career.
The hood is tough, the hood is tough, but we ain't gonna Hustle for long. We gonna get out of the hood for good and move to New York city. No more two bedroom efficiency dump. Ricky's gonna live with us, gang free!"
I took my rap song and got it copyrighted. The shocker is, I am not some young, Black boy. I am a White boy. I just wrote it as if I were a poor, Black boy. In reality, I am a wealthy boy named Dave Winston, a student at Marshall Johnson Academy, a prestigious private high school, which is predominanently White.
I even have a demo of my rap song. I rap with full ebonics, just like in the song. I made my voice sound deeper and harsher, so that no one would suspect it was a White boy rapping, if they found it.
Today, I put my CD into my CD player and jammed to my song. Damn, I so0unded really good as a "Black" rapper!"
After listening to "The Hood Is Tough," I took my demo and my copyrighted song and went to Student Life, so i could listen to it on the stereo there.
I listened to my song on the stereo while I read a book, and I soon realized I had to print my History assignment in a few minutes.
I rushed to the computer lab, forgetting abiout the demo CD, but not the paper.
I printed my assignment, and went home. I was looking through my backpack, and I realized that the "Hood is Tough," demo was missing!
Part 1
I wrote a rap song earlier. Here it goes.
"I grew up in the hood, in Harlem. My Mama was a single mom, my older brother was a gang member, I had seen at least four drive-by shootings and killingd.
My daddy was a Crack-head, cared more about his crack than us, his kids. He was a dead-beat father, hardly ever gave us a dime. He wasn't there for us, no wonder my brother's a gang member. Mama cries at night knowing what happened to my brother. We struggling to survive, and sometimes we gotta huslte just to survive. We eat givernment food, we living off of welfare, my school's a dirty school, with ratty hand me down books, my brother is a drop-out.
The hood is tough, the hood is tough, ain't no way to live but Hustle.
"Bitches wanna die, shorities wanna ride" is what my brother says in his gang talk. Bitches are snitches and shorties are hood rats. Mama begs me every night not to go down the gang way like my brother. My brother's only 19, and has mugged innocent people and robbed stores to support both his gang and our family. It's hard being a struggling Black family.
The hood is tough, the hood is tough, ain't no way tp live but hustle.
'Mama says she's gonna get a good high paying job so that we can live a better life, and so that she can bring Ricky home for good. But, she only has an 11th grade education, and can't get anything other than minimum wage.
I ain't gonna go down like Ricky. I'm gonna get my diploma, and I'm a save Ricky and mama from this hell. I ain't never droppin' out of high school, I'm gonna go to college and get a respectable career.
The hood is tough, the hood is tough, but we ain't gonna Hustle for long. We gonna get out of the hood for good and move to New York city. No more two bedroom efficiency dump. Ricky's gonna live with us, gang free!"
I took my rap song and got it copyrighted. The shocker is, I am not some young, Black boy. I am a White boy. I just wrote it as if I were a poor, Black boy. In reality, I am a wealthy boy named Dave Winston, a student at Marshall Johnson Academy, a prestigious private high school, which is predominanently White.
I even have a demo of my rap song. I rap with full ebonics, just like in the song. I made my voice sound deeper and harsher, so that no one would suspect it was a White boy rapping, if they found it.
Today, I put my CD into my CD player and jammed to my song. Damn, I so0unded really good as a "Black" rapper!"
After listening to "The Hood Is Tough," I took my demo and my copyrighted song and went to Student Life, so i could listen to it on the stereo there.
I listened to my song on the stereo while I read a book, and I soon realized I had to print my History assignment in a few minutes.
I rushed to the computer lab, forgetting abiout the demo CD, but not the paper.
I printed my assignment, and went home. I was looking through my backpack, and I realized that the "Hood is Tough," demo was missing!