When I was about 14, I contracted what was then considered a rare disease – Hip Hopilepsy – while I was listening to a rap by Grand Master Flash and the Furious Five on my friend’s boom box. The symptoms started soon thereafter. They included sudden and spontaneous rhyming, the urge to show girls how I could (almost) spin on my head, and fits of uncontrollable rage whenever my mother refused to buy me parachute pants.
While most people afflicted with Hip Hopilepsy go into remission after a few years, my condition is chronic—perhaps even terminal, considering I now live in Texas, where rapping can get you shot by a drunken redneck quicker than you can say “Tupac lives.”
Now, I realize that those of you who have joined my mailing list to receive my author blog posts probably never expected to have to endure anything even remotely resembling a rap. All I ask is that you remember that I am sick, and that you therefore show some compassion.
And with that, I bring you what is largely being considered (by me) to be the world’s greatest (and perhaps only) author rap:
I'm kickin slick rhymes that I spit with diction
I'm very literary when I rip some fiction
Nothing that I've written really fits description
Might be more prolific if I quit prescriptions
I'll bomb ya with writing that's beyond all genres
Vocabulary's longer than an anaconda
Not long enough to find another rhyme with "onda"
So now it's time for me to get moving on ta...
...the next line, the next verse, the next rhyme
First novel—meh—I'll get them next time
Second novel's set to be an Oprah best find
It's better than the rest and I hope you'll check why
My hopes are set high, my prose I let fly
Don't want to be a writer who just mostly gets by
I want to be a writer getting checks that let my
chauffeur and my butler go and get my neckties
I'll give it my best try, I've authored this rap storm
You might be like, "What's an author doing a rap for?"
I'm hoping it will elevate my authoring platform
I have a couple readers but I need to attract more
Every day and night I play to raise the hype
Some say I shouldn't rap because I'm way too white
I'm taking self-promotion to some brave new heights
Now go and give my Facebook page a "Like"
Word.
While most people afflicted with Hip Hopilepsy go into remission after a few years, my condition is chronic—perhaps even terminal, considering I now live in Texas, where rapping can get you shot by a drunken redneck quicker than you can say “Tupac lives.”
Now, I realize that those of you who have joined my mailing list to receive my author blog posts probably never expected to have to endure anything even remotely resembling a rap. All I ask is that you remember that I am sick, and that you therefore show some compassion.
And with that, I bring you what is largely being considered (by me) to be the world’s greatest (and perhaps only) author rap:
I'm kickin slick rhymes that I spit with diction
I'm very literary when I rip some fiction
Nothing that I've written really fits description
Might be more prolific if I quit prescriptions
I'll bomb ya with writing that's beyond all genres
Vocabulary's longer than an anaconda
Not long enough to find another rhyme with "onda"
So now it's time for me to get moving on ta...
...the next line, the next verse, the next rhyme
First novel—meh—I'll get them next time
Second novel's set to be an Oprah best find
It's better than the rest and I hope you'll check why
My hopes are set high, my prose I let fly
Don't want to be a writer who just mostly gets by
I want to be a writer getting checks that let my
chauffeur and my butler go and get my neckties
I'll give it my best try, I've authored this rap storm
You might be like, "What's an author doing a rap for?"
I'm hoping it will elevate my authoring platform
I have a couple readers but I need to attract more
Every day and night I play to raise the hype
Some say I shouldn't rap because I'm way too white
I'm taking self-promotion to some brave new heights
Now go and give my Facebook page a "Like"
Word.
