My Failed Rap Career (rewritten) PARENTAL ADVISORY: Strong Language

My career as a Rap artist was over before it started, but occasionally I think about what might've been. This was back when I worked at the crazy restaurant. During a moment of downtime I wrote a couple of Rap songs in my head. Actually I didn't write "songs" at all, since there's very little actual music in most Rap tunes. I just came up with the vocals. 

 If you want to sing along with my tunes I'll provide the lyrics. Again there's no real melody, except for maybe a couple of notes here or there from what sounds like a little kid tapping on a Casio keyboard that he got for Christmas. Just imagine those long, boomy, sustained bass notes like you hear when certain cars drive by with the windows rattling. Add a ticky-tack, splitty-splatty drumbox beat, a few handclaps and you're there. Here's my jams. 

Muthafukka

Mutha mutha mutha mutha

Mutha muthafukka 

Muthafukka and anotha muthafukka

Ditch Bitch

I'm a sonofabitch

I got a trailer hitch

And I drove my ass

Right into a ditch, yo

 With a couple of tunes under my belt I began to ponder my future in Rap. I hadn't come up with a name yet...I was thinking maybe "Cool Carl Casian" or something equally dorky yet controversial, but the name didn't matter. The rest of the plan was clear though. I'd have a Bentley in the driveway and a swimming pool in the sunroom. I'd buy a gold chain with links as big as my fist. They'd name a strain of high-end reefer after me. I'd have Snoop on speed-dial and I'd be signed to Def Jam or somebody. I'd have all them hos. 

 I was standing there with my head tilted upward, with my thumb and forefinger resting on my chin, staring into space contemplatively, when Cindy, aka "DJ Cinj" walked over and snapped me out of it. She made some comment like "Got a date tonight Kelj?" "No. I'm thinking about my future as a Rap star." "Really?" she said. "Uh-huh. I just wrote a couple of kickass tunes. Lemme sing 'em for you." "Welllll..." she said. "Okay" I interrupted. "Here goes." 

 I sang Muthafukka for her. She stared at me silently, but with a look that said "Are you seriously kidding?" "Okay, okay" I said. "Here's another one, and this one's a HIT!" "Right" she said. I sang Ditch Bitch for her. I even did a little dance and added some handclaps, to really make it pop, but her expression never changed. I was hoping maybe she'd sign up to be my first official ho, but instead she crushed my dreams. She was never one to mince words.

 She basically told me that my tunes were about as "white" as it gets, and that I should stick to things I know, like being able to tell the difference between Blue Cheese and Thousand Island. She really burst my balloon, but I knew that if DJ Cinj rejected my music, then I'd never stand a chance with Suge or any of the big boys. Adios, Bentley. Later-on, champagne with McMuffins. Goodbye hos. My Rap career lasted about one minute, in my head, but for that moment it was glorious. I guess it's just as well really. I'm just too white, and sadly I'll never be able to change that. Dammit, yo. Oh well, y'all. Have a ni-ni-nice day.