1.04.2007
CCC: Final Battle!
The beat cuts out and the stage goes dark. Then, a single spotlight shines down...
The King himself finally emerges from behind a curtain. Four thugs in all gold tuxedos carry out a large throne on a platform on their shoulders. On the side, four hot bitches with palm leaf fans cool off the King, and another fine lady in Chorus Line-styled tuxedo hotpants helps the King down off the throne, leading him to the middle of the stage.
The King is dressed simply in a silver Armani suit. Hanging from his neck is a medallion that reads "JR". You guys are close enough that you can tell that, long ago, this guy must've suffered massive head wounds, as his face is kind of fucked up and there's actually a dent in his head, like in his skull.
Hasn't kept him off stage though. A little bit of scratching introduces him...
"John R... John R... K-K-K-King John Romeo, the maestro, the king and grand poobah of the Cold Cut Collective..."
An unbelieveably fresh beat thumps out of the speakers.
The tuxedo lady hands John Romeo a cellphone and a microphone, and he begins his retort:
Well welcome y’all, I’m the belle of the ball!
J Rome is… hold on yo, I just got a call…
Huh, it’s your girlfriend on my cellpho’ and she’s down at the mall
She’ll see you tomorr’ morning after she and I ball.
John Romeo snaps his T Mobile shut.
Check it out.
I been hearin a lot of J Rome imitators:
Instigators, naysayers, and a whole lotta haters-
Your Dr. Seuss rhymes suck as bad as the Raiders!
While I’ve got all the Gs and fat grills and some gators.
And a beatbox? Oh really? Who does that anymore?
This is 2-jiggy-7, not 1984!
I bring beats from The Streets that Mike Skinner adore;
Timbaland and The Neptunes ring me up for the score.
My samples outrageous, contagious, courageous,
Every DJ gets BJs who mixes and plays this-
A style so wild that arch-druids call me ‘magus’-
It’s wanton and wicked and takes all yer wages.
The hip-hop that I drop is tip-top from the shop!
Oh stop! Call the cops! I shoot straight to the top!
Karate chop all the sloppy wop crop that you drop!
I won’t stop cause I got the doo-wop that goes pop!
Thee ladies beseech me to teach and impeach thee.
I’m the original rapper who commenced CCC, see?
Ain’t no thing to be King who’s butt-Tut’s element’ry…
And a gnome? I’m J Rome! I rock the Twilos sediment’ry!
Because…
My rhymes hypnotize you, mesmerize and surprise you
Realize you don’t know I supersized all the fries you
Fuckin’ ate off my plate you mother fucking ingrate you
Do what I do cause you ne fais pas le parlez-vous! True!
I realign and assign you, I fine right behind you
I’m disinclined to consign my benign rhymes oh so new
I declined you, Sinn Feined you, opined you on The View
Rhymes enshrined and entwined and unmined through and through
When I’m perpatratin’ a rhyme, I’m penetratin your mind-
I make her feel divine uh like an old French wine.
Cause I rock like the Jigga, DMC, and White Lines,
An I’m rollin on E and for free cause I shine.
Word.
John Romeo casually checks to see who’s beeping him.
Your rhymes are clichéd and got played because they’d
Rather not be made by some guys who got gayed.
Yo, J Romes words are like suade sway’d away in a glade!
I got paid, I got laid…
cuz J Rome got it made.
The King himself finally emerges from behind a curtain. Four thugs in all gold tuxedos carry out a large throne on a platform on their shoulders. On the side, four hot bitches with palm leaf fans cool off the King, and another fine lady in Chorus Line-styled tuxedo hotpants helps the King down off the throne, leading him to the middle of the stage.
The King is dressed simply in a silver Armani suit. Hanging from his neck is a medallion that reads "JR". You guys are close enough that you can tell that, long ago, this guy must've suffered massive head wounds, as his face is kind of fucked up and there's actually a dent in his head, like in his skull.
Hasn't kept him off stage though. A little bit of scratching introduces him...
"John R... John R... K-K-K-King John Romeo, the maestro, the king and grand poobah of the Cold Cut Collective..."
An unbelieveably fresh beat thumps out of the speakers.
The tuxedo lady hands John Romeo a cellphone and a microphone, and he begins his retort:
Well welcome y’all, I’m the belle of the ball!
J Rome is… hold on yo, I just got a call…
Huh, it’s your girlfriend on my cellpho’ and she’s down at the mall
She’ll see you tomorr’ morning after she and I ball.
John Romeo snaps his T Mobile shut.
Check it out.
I been hearin a lot of J Rome imitators:
Instigators, naysayers, and a whole lotta haters-
Your Dr. Seuss rhymes suck as bad as the Raiders!
While I’ve got all the Gs and fat grills and some gators.
And a beatbox? Oh really? Who does that anymore?
This is 2-jiggy-7, not 1984!
I bring beats from The Streets that Mike Skinner adore;
Timbaland and The Neptunes ring me up for the score.
My samples outrageous, contagious, courageous,
Every DJ gets BJs who mixes and plays this-
A style so wild that arch-druids call me ‘magus’-
It’s wanton and wicked and takes all yer wages.
The hip-hop that I drop is tip-top from the shop!
Oh stop! Call the cops! I shoot straight to the top!
Karate chop all the sloppy wop crop that you drop!
I won’t stop cause I got the doo-wop that goes pop!
Thee ladies beseech me to teach and impeach thee.
I’m the original rapper who commenced CCC, see?
Ain’t no thing to be King who’s butt-Tut’s element’ry…
And a gnome? I’m J Rome! I rock the Twilos sediment’ry!
Because…
My rhymes hypnotize you, mesmerize and surprise you
Realize you don’t know I supersized all the fries you
Fuckin’ ate off my plate you mother fucking ingrate you
Do what I do cause you ne fais pas le parlez-vous! True!
I realign and assign you, I fine right behind you
I’m disinclined to consign my benign rhymes oh so new
I declined you, Sinn Feined you, opined you on The View
Rhymes enshrined and entwined and unmined through and through
When I’m perpatratin’ a rhyme, I’m penetratin your mind-
I make her feel divine uh like an old French wine.
Cause I rock like the Jigga, DMC, and White Lines,
An I’m rollin on E and for free cause I shine.
Word.
John Romeo casually checks to see who’s beeping him.
Your rhymes are clichéd and got played because they’d
Rather not be made by some guys who got gayed.
Yo, J Romes words are like suade sway’d away in a glade!
I got paid, I got laid…
cuz J Rome got it made.
