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.