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I Use Similes Like Gardening Enthusiasts Use Hoes

November 16, 2009

Comparisons – name-dropping, metaphor, simile, and comparative/superlative forms of adjectives – are often used by rappers to add some colour and whimsy to their compositions. The use of over-the-top comparison predates literacy and is a gift from our old friend Indo-European poetics. Go read any 200 lines of Homer if you don’t believe me. If you don’t run across at least two extensive similes, I’ll eat my hat. It’s a blue Columbia toque that matched my old (1998-2006) winter jacket perfectly but doesn’t match my new one and actually looks even more ridiculous with my fall coat. Having eaten it would be a good excuse to buy a new hat in an appropriate colour, but unfortunately, I don’t think I’d lose the bet.

I’m a contradiction, bitches, I be risin’ in the fall.
Here’s a prediction: I’ma soon have more profit than y’all.
I’m a poetic prophet; the flow from my pen is stellar.
Your rhymes are tragic; mine are magic like Penn & Teller.
In a throwdown I shoot every bro and ho down like Old Yeller.
Dirty fellers call me Buzz Aldrin, ‘cause I love to moon ‘em.
But the ladies call me Uri Geller ‘cause I love to spoon ‘em.
They see my sweet candy ass and chest and they know they gotta have it.
Am I a slut? Put it this way: casta est quam nemo rogavit.

I ain’t no glitter fairy, I’m a literary cannibal.
I attack the English language like an animal.
When a bitch be killin’ like Hannibal Lecter,
You gotta respect her.
I got sharper vision than a bird of prey.
I’m a shark, I wring your neck with precision and snap your vertebrae.

My tongue is a razor, my wit is a laser,
My style’s timeless and tasteful like a Gucci blazer.
Call me Randy Couture ‘cause I’m horny and I’m in fashion.
Call me Christ ‘cause I’m cross and I’m livin’ my passion.
You’re more outdated than a week-old Facebook status.
You sputter and stall like a ’95 Dodge Stratus.
I use the dictionary like a climbing apparatus.
And muthafucka, when it comes to the thesaurus,
You’re hesperonychus and I’m tyrannosaurus.
Your game is lame, it’s disabled and crippled,
It’s handicapped, one-legged, wonky and gibbled.

A rapper don’t need to have a dick to write slick lines.
I’m a chick and I spit sick rhymes.
Misogynist bigot, I got my own spigot.
You dig it? I’m cock of the walk.
You talk and you talk but your cock is a crock.
Yeah, you got balls, but like a lion you’re cowardly.
I got bills, no lyin’, I direct the other playas Ron Howardly.
If you really got a willie, why’s your flow so weak?
Your rhymin’s oh so silly; mine is oh so sleek.
I give your rap a C, ’cause it’s crap.
You see?

One Comment leave one →
  1. Jim permalink
    November 17, 2009 12:53 am

    My favorite is the crying happy one


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