You're nobody 'til Ghostface has verse'd you!
(I'm slightly giddy 'cause I just invented this badass way of using "verse" as a verb, but I'll try to focus on finishing the post below. Biggie verse'd Salt & Pepa and Heavy D on "Juicy." Like that.
Also, sometimes I use a word that don't mean nothin, like looptid.)
Anyway,
This tall, handsome man from New York who has the face of a ghost could absolutely come over to your house for some coffee and lovely conversation with your mom, over there in the breakfast nook. Ragu and nutmeg, Camay, scales of fish, Betty Crocker: moms understand these references in Toney's breathless high pitch. Plus you got all those mentions of actresses, American presidents, kings, emperors, French-Canadian chanteuses, a bunch of athletes (tennis, football, boxing, wrasslin'), Colombian businessmen, game show hosts, '60 and '70s soul singers, '80s pop stars, messiahs, ex-"Today Show" hosts, Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky and Mike (sorry)...it's really so obvious that Toney and the moms of the world could totally chat about the cultural zeitgeist at large for an extended period of time. (Hi Ego Trip, it's me again. I'm really disappointed in you for not seeing this first.)
It weakens my argument to have to omit certain lines, but there's still enough material here for me to convince you. For example, I feel that I can be honest and admit that I had to leave out that Sonny Carson mention from "Murda Goons"; as fresh as my own mom is (you remember, don't you?), she is unfamiliar with Sonny. HOWEVER -
I'm proud to say that I could include that Slick Rick line, 'cause my mom is quite familiar and could even pick him out in some sort of group Def Jam photo if asked (you would too if you had me for a daughter). Oh, and I included the Urlacher and Cutler stuff in case your mom watches football like mine. PS, the only Jaime Sommers in a middle-aged mom's world should be Lindsay Wagner, and my mom doesn't understand the verb "to train" the way it's used by Ghost and I'm fine with that. Ssshhhh.
Puppy love, gorgeous face, amazed by lip gloss
Cherry cent, when the princess spoke yo it bounced off
Mole like Marilyn Monroe, threw a rose in her mouth
Wherever God go will be Mrs. Coke
- “Child's Play”
Wu-Tang Clan spark the wicks and
However, I master the trick just like Nixon
- “Bring Da Ruckus”
I ran the Dark Ages, Constantine and great Henry the Eighth
Built with Genghis Khan, the red suede Wally Don
- “4th Chamber”
Blow backs in, flip raps like forty-eight bundles
Dinner plates, deadly front gates, celeb Bryant Gumbel
- “We Made It”
With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion
Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond
– “9 Milli Bros.”
Thanks to the revolver, Ramik had the leap from the heat
Like he was Frogger, bang monster King Arthur
Guns older than Bob Barker, graze comin out the nose barrel
Trouble maybe, then we from Harvard
- “Who Are We”
Sho nuff, hit the bank and thrust
Cool Nauticas, Jamie Summers got trained on the tour bus
- “Iron Maiden”
I know this chick from the hood named Courtney Cox
And her brain is easy to pick like faulty locks
- “Josephine”
That's how the God do, Motown twenty-five
My orals like Smokey's voice, little moist, but choice
- “Stay True”
Kiss the pyramid experiment with high explosive
I slapbox with Jesus, lick shots at Joseph
- “Daytona 500”
Burgundy minks, whips with sinks in em
Broccoli blown, illa disease breath, elephant skin
Meet the black Boy George, dusted on my honeymoon
- “Stroke of Death”
That's the same kid that cut his wrists, talkin bout the cuffs did it
He ran away, frontin majorly, eyes like Sammy Davis jr.
- “Malcolm”
- “The Grain.” Pretty much his whole verse.
Slinging the backs of five Cleopatras
A cocaine chef, I stretch money like elastic
My raps is bigger, dynamics with the muscle advantage
Jay Cutler on dust, when I blam shit
- “Rec-Room Therapy”
Fly shit like Curtis Mayfield and his intro
Throw this in your whip, convent, your tens blow
- “Ghost Showers”
As I stroll the globe and terrorize the planet
With a Bill Clinton mask and them Playskool hens
- “The Mask”
I give a order to my peeps across the water
To go and snatch up props all around the border
And get far like a shootin star
'Cause who I are, is dim in the light of Pablo Escobar
– “Protect Ya Neck”
You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb
Blowin like Shalamar in eighty-one
Sound convincin, thousand dollar court by convention
Hands, like Sonny Liston, get fly permission
– “Triumph”
Laying n---as like ceramic tile
I'm like Urlacher, beasting at the top of the pile
- “New Wu”
Chop the O, sprinkle a lil' snow inside a Optimo
Swing the John McEnroe, rap rock'n'roll.
Aiyyo spiced out Calvin Coolidge, loungin with 7 duelers
The Great Adventures of Slick, lickin with 6 rugers.
- “Nutmeg”
The Betty Crocker, marvel cake stakes admissor
wax janitor, black Jack Mulligan from Canada
- “Bells of War”
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1 comment:
If.
If.
If you wrote all that off the top of the dome... I will officially retire from this here rap sport. Crowning you the greatest of all times. Plural to cover all dimensions. What frustrates me about Mr. Starks is that his abstract us very hard for me to reach. And just maybe... it isn't as abstract as I think it is and that is what is even more frustrating.
Again... IF.
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