Advice to Aspiring Battle Rappers [Part 2]

So this began with Advice for Aspiring Battle Rappers – although it's slightly began to change into me cataloguing my experiences of attempting to secure myself a rap battle. This is Part 2 of that never-ending saga.

So what do you do after you've penned three rounds of bars that you've finally realised you'll never get to use against anyone else?

It's obvious … you post them on a battle rap forum for your own kind [battle rap geeks] to judge, in the hope to seek admiration. You hit 'post', the thread comes up, you get a bit nervous; “Wait... will they read it how it's supposed to be performed?”... no probably not. Well done, you've opened yourself up to a possible barrage of insults from people you don't know! This is the internet, you twat! In which people hide behind alias so they can slag you off to their heart's content!

You sit. You wait. You repeatedly hit refresh. “How come 'X', 'Y' and 'Z', have viewed the thread and not left a comment... can't they see my genius?” You ask yourself. You sit a little longer. You wait a little longer. Eventually you have to sleep, staring at a computer screen for ten hours straight can take it's toll on anyone.

It's hard to push the thought of it out of your head, you've busted your metaphorical balls on the these metaphors, and nobody is willing to acknowledge that. BALLS!

Finally you see there's been a couple of responses to your post. With a shaking hand you move the cursor over the the thread and click. As the page loads you're filled with dread and excitement. You scroll down with your heart in your throat like you're dining at Hannibal's house [punchlines for days]. You read the replies... they're favourable. Some constructive criticism but the majority are supportive. Even a Don't Flop battler you like quotes a line and says it's a “fantastic bar” [shout out to Shuffle-T].

Real Screen Print... No Photoshop

You should be happy, people appreciate what you've written but now there's a nagging in the back of your head; “if only that cunt had've turned up!” It becomes infuriating but what can you do?

Skip ahead awhile and after the dust settles, you think; “fuck it, may as well give it another go”. It's a little easier the second time around, although you never got that battle you've kind of got your foot in door like over-pushy Jehovah Witnesses [punchlines for weeks]. So you go about setting up another battle.

And you get one. And your opponent has battled a couple of times before, even had a try-out for Don't Flop [the UK's #1 Rap Battle League]. This is a massive advantage to you, he's battled before you have plenty of material to study and plenty of angles to use, while he's battling you; a nobody. Plus this guy wants to make a name for himself in battle rap, so he's bound to turn up.

So boom; you get down to writing again. And luckily for you your opponent is quite lanky and he isn't the best looking chap in the world, so there's plenty to say on that matter;

Is it me or; has Tim Westwood's orphaned lad - started talking black,
as a performance act - to plead towards his awful dad
Or maybe; Steven Hawkins has - finally contort his back, [...and...]
by a BLACK-burn-HOLE; been transported back and taught to rap

Or is this; a zombie from 28 Days Later's supporting cast?
Or … has someone stretched Gollum on a torture-rack?
No it's a Morbid twat … that's only alive because his parents adored the fact;
his umbilical cord 'wun't' snap in their abortion pact

Doubt settles in though. You start to realise no matter how strong your pen game you still have to perform this material better than your counter-part, he's had plenty of practice. You write a couple of personal schemes that you think will give you the crowd reaction you need and then you concentrate on your performance.

Eventually you get it down. There's a confidence about you that wasn't there the first time around. All those positive comments on the forum have got you a little gassed up.

Then you get a Facebook message.

Your opponent has pulled out due to some legal trouble. It's frustrating but not out of character for the bloke, you've been doing your research, you know he's a bit of a wrong 'un. While this totally deflates you, you cast your eye back over your bars and probably count your blessings because;

In my eyes; shouting about a battler's loved ones until ya lung's collapse is fucking wack
Cos we came to see if our punches match - not turn this into a punching match

Cos I don't need to call your baby mum; a slut or slag, so someone braps

Or negatively mention your son in raps, cos I'm sure he's sweeter than a pussy cat

And I bet that child loves you... but do you really love the brat?
Cos being a father to a budding chap means more than getting a humongous tat'

Cos I heard you got involved in a shoving match,
and some cunt got slapped, so it escalated into thumps and jabs,

and you got put on tag, [was facing jail] but luckily in fact; it never come to that,

But if it did; picture yourself serving a sentence as tons of months go pass
As you miss your son's first sentence; “Mum, when is Daddy coming back?”
Then question; Is that really how someone with a son should act?

… probably would have got you a stern punch in the face and a couple of kicks would have had you sprawled out of the floor like unfurling a rug [punchlines for months].

But wait... because it's fucking happened again. Your one man mission to be a purist and write only for the person in front of you has bit you on the arse like a kinky prostitute [punchlines for years]. So you've got three rounds of angles you can't use on anyone else, did you not learn your lesson the first time around?

Another battle is arranged. The emcee hosting the event's mate will step up to battle you, he's going to tag along to the event anyway, so this time you know he'll definitely be in attendance.

So back to square one. Research. Write. Practice.

You're getting pretty good as these aspects. But the doubt in your head is performing in front of people. This time you take heed from past experiences and throw in a couple of schemes relating to TV shows you're obsessed with so even if this guy pulls out – which he definitely not do – you have something you can reuse.

It's less than a week from your battle, you've got everything set. You're not as confident with this material as you were for the other battle, but fuck it, this new chap is borderline shit so it shouldn't be too hard to beat him.

Then you get another Facebook message.

You're new opponent has pulled out – what the fuck is this Groundhog Day? Fuck sake!

It's at this moment it begins to settle in... maybe this battle rap t'ing isn't really for you.

End of Part 2.

Advice to Aspiring Battle Rappers

So you've seen some of favourite battle rappers spitting their bars on one of the popular YouTube channels, now you think you've got what it takes to step up!

Hold a second though, bruv!

You sure you're ready?

So [in your own mind] you crushed an impromptu freestyle battle at a random party with your secretly penned pre-writtens, now you think you have what it takes? Go at it then, I'm not going to hold you back, I'll just inform you of what's to come.

Now, for a brief second, I'm going to assume you aren't some deluded twat that thinks he [or she] can simply send in a 30 second snippet of you rapping a cypher verse captured on a shaky smart-phone in order to get yourself a try-out in a 'big league'. And that, in fact, you're some kind of purist that wants to cut his [or her] teeth and sharper his [or her] wits in a 'lower league' before taking the plunge.

If you are one of those deluded twats, please stop reading now, good luck at your try-out that'll never see the light of day. [Damn should have wrote; “good luck at your try-out that'll never see Daylyt”, that'd have been almost amusing for the two people that read this].

But how do you go about getting a battle?

You've gotta get on social media or message boards or YouTube to start finding lower level leagues that take some battle rap obsessed nerd and match him [or her] with another battle rap obsessed nerd so they can duel it out with words and multis and schemes and shit! This should be easy enough because battle rap leagues are sprouting up left, right and centre, they're like Drum & Bass nights five years ago. So you swear to the promoter you'll turn up and you'll be amazing. Then you get an opponent, you learn his rap name, his real name, his girlfriend's favourite ice cream flavour, his shoe size, his GCSE grades and the name of second-cousin-twice-removed's pet and anything else you can.

So you gather information, say he's mad 'cos his work his shit, you twist it and make it tantalising for the public... like a tabloid journalist [punchlines for days!] But wait, you're a purist, you want no filler, all killer, plus fuck the cheap angles; mum jokes, girlfriend bars... pfff … that's amateur shit, you're going to put in a fucking classic performance battle rap historians will document in years to come. But just in case you're battling some fucking cunt that thinks it's cool to openly mention your mother's or your girlfriend's full name in battle, you've got those killer flips tucked away that multi his mother/girlfriend's [or father/boyfriend's – damn, this gender correction is getting ridiculous, so I'm giving up] name to oblivion! But let's hope it doesn't come to that.

But hey, you tow the line with a couple of name flips and maybe a jokes about where he is from. Also you've got a couple of ideas brewing, you've learned some of your rival's personal traits and you're going to manipulate them into a scheme. For example, you discover your rival is ginger, so you pen something like;

“You were born with a negative aura like a pessimist’s daughter,
Yes; it is slaughter, when I break down this Ginger without a pestle and mortar

For crossing the Throne of Caesar; I'm orchestrating this ginger bitch's closing features

It'll be like when Boudica stepped to the wrong Roman leader ”

… or maybe your opponent has another man's name on his neck for some reason, so you write;

“I don't wanna get sordid about the name on your neck you've had painted and etched
Maybe, I guess, it could be a mate that has left after you've laid him to rest,
Or there once was a lady you pressed and that's the name of the baby she kept
But at the tattooist's ... did you not engage your brain for a sec or debate in your head;

And think of a better way of paying respects without maiming your flesh?
I mean; due to me evening mentioning [NAME] you're acting restrained and oppressed
Cos that's a relationship that's become blatantly stressed and must be tainted at best;
- now you symbolically class [NAME] as a massive pain in your neck ”

… or perhaps you saw his last battle in which he got an over-zealous crowd response due to a high percentage of his friends turning up and you want to highlight that, by saying*;

“From your 2 on 2s, I cynically doubt your passion
for bringing around a faction of squinting & pouting badman
that were singing it loud and brapping while you delivered your rounds of rapping

I still can't figure it out, it's baffling

they wouldn't have been less menacing if they were skipping about and prancing
But you're in Derby now; the City I proudly stand in,
so expect limited crowd reaction
from the lyrics your pronouncing at Ben in that primitive sounding accent,”

I'm sure in your heart of hearts you think those angles are innovative, original and pack a punch that would leave any rival beaten [ - they probably would to be fair].

You prep; you go back and forth with your friends. They read you a line, you say the next one. They play their roles as friends and step up to the mark, while secretly hoping on you make a fool of yourself so things can go back to normal. Every night you go to sleep reciting your rounds, you wake up, you recite them, you take a shit, you recite them. You've got them locked down! Your ego starts to boost a bit, you're mentioning it to people at work. You give them the whole “nowadays to 8 Mile” speech. They ask when it is, acting very intrigued, you tell them. They ask you to rap a line. You freeze... then you stutter... then you come up with some bullshit excuse about saying them in public before the battle. Then you worry.

But you're fucked. The day is upon you and despite all those stellar performances you put on in front of the bathroom mirror, you start to doubt if the slightly drunken people in attendance will get each one of your obscure references that seem perfectly normal to you [everyone has a large understanding of Park Chan-wook films and Johnny Cash's early work, right? RIGHT?]

You enter the venue; knees weak, arms are heavy, as if it's some kind of cliché. The host greets you, you talk for a little bit, then he's needed somewhere else. You get a pint then you retreat to corner. You clock watch, getting more anxious as each minute passes. Battles were supposed to start at 6.00pm, it's now 7.49pm, what's going on? Then it hits you; there's more names on the flyer than there is people in the venue. You rapidly scan the crowd looking for the face that matches that Facebook profile pic you've been infatuated with putting all your inner frustrations on for the last seven weeks. You can't spot it.

You don't even notice the host approaching you, as your pupils dart back and forth like some type of medically documented eye spasm [punchlines for weeks!], finally his presence grabs your full attention. You see the look on his face and you know the deal, but you have to hear it anyway;

“Sorry dude, your opponent has no-showed due to; family problem/health issue/transport troubles/being a pussy!”

But now you know the most important aspect of becoming an aspiring battle rapper; battle rappers are flakier than a Cadbury's Flake in the pocket of a snowboarder involved in an avalanche! [Punchlines for weeks!]

You'll never admit it out loud but there's a slight relief you don't have to battle anymore. Plus technically you turned up, so you've won... you try and convince yourself. You try and enjoy the night. You spit your bars to a few of the other battlers and get some supportive reactions, maybe they feel sorry for you, maybe they actually liked it, either way you feel comfortable enough to at least give this another go! Although nobody got the; “Find a job and start that soon, cos you've made more money off J.S.A. than Park Chan-Wook” bar or your 'Johnny Cash Scheme'.

“Maybe you can reuse some of those bars in the future.” Someone kindly points out. You believe them, due to the fact the contents of your rounds means nothing to you anymore, it's just a collections of words placed into a routine that you've embedded into your memory. Then you recall the angles you took; ginger, name tattooed on neck, over-zealous crowd response... yeah I'm sure you'll be able to work those bars into any upcoming battle! So much for being a purist... bet those generic mum jokes and girlfriend bars are looking much, much better now.

End of Part 1. 

* also in this analogy your name's Ben, and you live in Derby.

 

Rantin’ on Reactions to Robberies

I’ve never witnessed anyone getting mugged in my time, but I’ve seen plenty of robberies in battle rap. Although, I’ve attained enough knowledge to know that; much like the muggings that happen up and down the country on a daily basis, there’s nothing I can do about a robbery in a battle, I’ve accepted this and it’s time some more Don’t Flop fans do too.

The most recent ‘robbery’ that pops into my head is Mark Grist vs. Zain Azrai [from TTT10]. Now, I’m with the majority on this one, as much as I like Zain, I think Grist totally eclipsed him in the battle and the teacher should have walked away with the W, but he didn’t and life goes on. As much as I love battle rap and have done for years, I don’t get tied into the immature bullshit that takes place on the comments section of YouTube. So I’m going to use this article to stress some points to those of you [idiots] that do.

Firstly, if you don’t agree with a judge’s decision on a battle don’t hit the dislike button, you morons. The Grist/Azrai battle [at the time of writing] currently stands at 659 likes and 2773 dislikes, yet it’s hands down one of the most entertaining battles I’ve ever seen. It’s the perfect type of battle to show to non-battle fans as it breaks previous stigmas set by 8 Mile and goes against the general publics narrow minded views of the entire hip hop genre; I mean, come on, it’s a bloody teacher rapping against a Malaysian joke merchant. Yet, when someone comes to the video and sees its rating they probably won’t even give it a chance and that’s such a shame.

Secondly, don’t go posting hateful comments aimed at the winner of the battle [that you believe was a robbery] because it’s not down them. All they did was turn up and perform. I’ve seen comments on the Grist/Azrai battle, slating Zain to no end. “How irresponsible and pathetic of zain, the dirty fat chinky.” types RhysGB15. Yeah, how irresponsible and pathetic of Zain to travel across the world to partake in something he loves for the enjoyment of others. What a cunt he is!

Thirdly, those of you with half a brain will blame the judges. Congratulations on being slightly more intelligent than the previous batch of idiots, but alas you’re still fools. I’m not inside the minds of judges, but I’ve watched plenty give explanations to camera to understand that everyone is different. Judge #1 may lean towards comedic punchlines, Judge #2 may prefer intricate wordplay and so on. What you need to remember is they’re more respected in this ‘game’ than you keyboard warriors and they’re the ones making quick, on the spot decisions often in an environment much different to your silent bedroom, plus they don’t have the advantage of skipping the battle back to pick up on bars they may have missed.

Basically, in battle rap, robberies happen, yet they are few and fair between; so don’t get your panties in a bunch over something you can’t change. Instead how about you just support the artists, the league and the movement or fuck off.