I want to be a rapper when I grow up.

It seems like it’d be fun, doesn’t it? You get paid big bucks for writing lyrics about what you did last night (ate mac n cheese, studied for a history exam, watched sitcoms, that kind of thing) and setting them to repetitive beats (bongo drums, anyone?). It seems like the life, because you’re not really doing much, are you?

I’ll be a rapper-turned-teacher. I’ll give grammar lessons in verse (put a period at the end of the sentence/lowercase I’s will get you a death sentence/if you fail the test all you’ll see is an F/swearing ain’t good, please no “what the f”) and wear a big clock like Flavor Flav (You have THIS MUCH TIME till recess!). That would be fun.

I’ll have a mansion somewhere in Florida - maybe on Star Island with my fellow millionaires - and arrive at school in a flashy monster truck with diamond-studded rims. My students will have braces and I’ll have a grill. As an accomplished musician, I’d have a music class where students learn to operate the DJ booth and experiment in drum techniques (drumsticks are so ‘06, use your head instead for a rockin’ cymbal bit).

Principal don’t like my styles? Fine, bitch, I’m a millionaire rapper! I’ll write a rap about how the principal’s got a lobster up her ass and such.

QUESTION OF THE WEEK: Given the opportunity, would you become a rapper? Obviously I would. Obviously.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 5th, 2007 at 6:06 pm and is filed under Wonderings, Rantings, Question of the Week. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Comments are closed. Deal with it.