Freshman Year Emcee

A smidgen blurry but that's me performing this.

A smidgen blurry but that’s me performing this.

My floor freshman year of college was a pretty dope house.  A large percentage of us got along, we planned some all-dorm gatherings, and we weren’t afraid to participate in University-planned dorm events either. For the dorm talent show, a fellow “east coaster” and I decided to write a rap to perform. I went to school in Wisconsin where the mention of someone being from New York (myself) or New Jersey (my co-emcee) would immediately meet stereotyping. It didn’t matter that I was from a small town and the Garden Stater from near Philly. Well I was tired of this so I incorporated my feelings into my verses of the rap along with some inside jokes from our floor.

I’m the L to the I to the N to the D to the S-A-Y/And I’ll tell you what’s down. I’ll tell ya what’s fly/Don’t worry boys. I ain’t shy. I get by/cuz I hail from New York/Upstate that is/not to be confused with that fucking NYC biz.

“Where you from?”/New York I’d say/’ssuming I drank Evian every day/But you know me/you can see/it ain’t true/I wear blue/not black fuck-me pants/I don’t call daddy at the first sign of ants/I proved you wrong/and if not, then by the end of this song/Where my girlz at?/hell no, not in the back/Yeah right up front. Paige and Sar-ah/shakin their asses like they don’t car-ah/On the dance floor they’ll sex you up/Hey, where’s Johrick?/Now tell me “sup?”

My home’s/The BLC/Livin’ on Elsom, the third story/Our house/always representin’/everywhere we go/you don’t even know/you have no idea/hey there at Frank’s I’ll see ya/

Sarah/ this is just for you/I to jog in the smog down by the bogg

This. This is the BLC/This. This is the BLC/This. This is the BLC

© copyright Lindsay M. Hinkle 2000


Grammar Hammer

(to the tune of MC Hammer’s U Can’t Touch This)

Can’t spell this/Can’t write this/Can’t spell this/Can’t write this

My, my, my grammar hits me so hard/Makes me say “oh my word”/Sentences be filling me/In my mind all these verbs I see/It feels good when spelled correct/Adjective, noun, or predicate/And I’m known as such/The Grammar Hammer, you can’t touch

I told you, schoolboy (can’t spell this)/Yeah, that’s how we scribing and you know (can’t write this)/Look at these words, man (can’t spell this)/Yo, let me bust the funky parlance

Give me a phrase or diction/Turn those toos to twos, did I mention/They’re not their/You listen to Grammar Hammer, he really does care/A Wordsmith and hip/A comma for the clause, don’t you trip/And do remember/A pause doesn’t mean one you must enter/Ante-cedent/Either work hard or you might as well quit

Yo, I told you (can’t spell this)/Why you standing there, man (can’t write this)/Yo, sound the bell. Grammar school’s in, pupil (can’t spell this)

That’s the word because you wrote…..

Can’t spell this/Can’t write this/Jot it down!/Stop. Grammar Time!

Every time you scrawl/The grammar’s got to be tight/I’m boss on the pen and I’m wicked with the type/Now why would I ever stop revising you?/With others making blunders, they just won’t do/I’ve taught around the slang, from fo shizzle to mmmkay/It’s “Grammar, Go Grammar, Grammar Hammer, Yo Grammar”/And the rest can go and say.

Can’t spell this/Can’t write this/Can’t spell this/Can’t write this/Can’t spell this/Can’t write this/Can’t spell this/Can’t write this

© copyright Lindsay M. Hinkle 2009