From the corner of the stage, I saw a tall, skinny, white, man wearing a dark blue sweater and baggy pants, with headphones. Papa Doc was going against a rapper known as Shorty Mike, and he looked scared to death. The bouncer nodded, "I think yo girl got anger problems man." The bouncer yelled back, and I walked, and shoved my way through the crowd, to the backstage area. "Say she cool man she with me." she said with authority. Future.įuture was one of my best friends, who hosts the rap battles, and knows most of the people in the 313, guess that's how he met me. "I didn't see nothing, you need to go round' front." I gasped in air, and I felt a thick, masculine, hand, rest on my shoulder. "You Just fucking saw ME!!!" I screamed, pulling down the sleeve of my hoodie, to reveal my stamp. "Yo man I gotta battle tonight, I'm going backstage." I argued with him for a while before it got a little to heated. Of course I couldn't go through, I was white. "Ay where the hell you going." A jolt of fury shot through me. I tried pushing myself pass the bulky, black, bouncer, that was standing in front of me, blocking me from the stage area. I heard her mumble something when I walked by and it took everything not to repay the favor. I rubbed the crevice of my mouth with the hem of my hoodie, and began shoving my way through the woman waiting. The hurling and gagging noises filled the stall, and I coughed the flavor of last nights dinner out of my mouth. "C'mon Man Stop Playing With Yourself." I felt a sudden churn in my stomach, and I felt vomit rushing up through my stomach, to my chest, to my throat, I couldn't keep it all in, and I puked in the toilet. Or Queen for short, that's what my mom would call me. Yeah, That's definitely Caprice Hollister. I wore an oversized hoodie, and Sofee, jet black shorts that sat three inches from my private.
#Rabbit 8 mile skin#
A umber eye color, tangent skin color, black hair, and it was matted at that. "Hold up a minute." They continued pounding on the door, "Hold up a fucking minute." I screamed, looking at myself in the dirty, kind of faded mirror. My hands clamming up, and dripping with sweat. It's not my fault my dad hit me and hurt me, and now theirs a grudge I'm holding.Ī fierce pounding was heard at the door, and I felt sick to my stomach. It's not my moms fault that she got shot twice in the head, and my dad couldn't do anything. I wish my stupid, pathetic, father, would get off the couch drinking alcohol, and actually be worth a shit. I guess my mom wasn't playing when she said, "Whatever you do in life, it's your choice if it's hard or not." The thing is, I wish it wasn't hard.
#Rabbit 8 mile free#
Papa Doc is the leader of the Free World, and an ass at that. Which was hard since I was going against Jasmine. Like I'm a girl, so I'd be rap battling for the best in the girls division. A rap joint, were rappers compete for their divisions. I looked at my shoes and sloshy water, from the walk I did to get here covered them. Listening to Shook Ones Part 2 by Mobb Deep. I bounced back and forth on the balls of my feet, that were covered in my black and white,checkered Vans. I'll get them digits from your mother for a dollar tomorrow.I observed the very dim fluorescent light flicker, bouncing off the graffiti plastered walls. Tanktops screamin "Lotto I don't fit you!" You see how far them white jokes get you, boys like "hows Vanilla Ice gonna diss you?" My motto fuck Lotto. Fuck it, you could take the mic home with you. Go home, write some shit, make it suspenseful and don't come back until somethin dope hits you. Is that a tank top or a new bra? Look Snoop Dogg has got a fucking boob job! Didn't you listen to the last round meathead? Pay attention your saying the same shit that he said. Quick someone get his ass another steroid! Blah-de-bee-bee, blah blah blah-be-dee-, blooh-blah. Ward I think you were a little hard on the Beaver. So I'll take pictures of my rear end so you won't forget my ass. I used to like that show now you got me in fight back mode. I feel bad I gotta murder that dude from leave it to beaver. That's why I didn't wanna be the one you commit suicide to. You think these niggas gonna feel the shit you say? I got a better chance joinin the K.K.K. That makes me believe you really don't have a interest in livin. Fucking with Lotto dawg you gotta be kiddin. This shit is a Horror flick but the black guy doesn't die in this movie.
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