THE STUDIO BOOTH
THE STUDIO BOOTH
In a studio booth, the rapper did stand,
With dreams of a hit, but empty pockets at hand.
"No money to record," he sadly exclaimed,
The producer's negative response was tamed4
As he kindly declared the session free,
Taking a financial loss like a kingpin real G.
Free of charge, the beats did play loud & clear,
But the rapper's off-key notes did hurt the ear.8
With confidence high, he started to blare:
"Got 200k in my account! Ain't paying, I swear!"
The producer's frustration began to accrue,
As the rapper continued, his rhymes all askew.¹²
"I was shot in the living room," the artist exclaimed,
"Ten times over, my heart inflamed!
Yet here I stand, without a single sigh,
For in the living room, I can not die!"¹6
Rapper rants & boosted, showing fake finesse.
"Free of charge, but not for this mess,"
Mr. Producer solemnly soliloquizes.
Thought how the rapper came at him to eulogize.²°
In his imagination, he was reaching for his gun,
Placed quietly in his drawer, as the rants go on,
So as to let bygone be bygone by his glock gun.²³
But then, with a terrible awakening, he jacked back,
Like a snatched handbag in a fierce attack.
He came back to reality, thought with a frown,
"Next time this rapper came 'round,
He'd be shown the way out of town!"²8
~~~~~~~~~
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©?20th April 2024.
Copyright ©
Victor Immanuel
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