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Author Topic: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry  (Read 19125 times)

LuckyKobold

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #60 on: December 17, 2014, 10:49:29 am »

Can I join as an antagonist?

Real Name:Old Man Jenkins
Stage Name:"The Patriot"
Group Name And Members
6 elderly men that agree with him
Hometown:Washington D.C
Background:He's 97 years old and has seen the music industry go to rubbish, It's time to restore the good old days, Of Classical Music,At All Costs!

If not PTW

Tomasque

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #61 on: December 20, 2014, 12:34:51 pm »

Bump.
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wipeout1024

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #62 on: January 07, 2015, 05:42:26 am »

Bump
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Ain't nobody got time for that.

Wilfred of Ivanhoe

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #63 on: January 07, 2015, 10:55:56 am »

I'm going to get a response in later today.
And yes, LuckyKobold.
« Last Edit: January 07, 2015, 11:04:51 am by Wilfred of Ivanhoe »
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(1) You grab your golf bag and take out your gun. But then an Orc comes over and sensually gives you a massage. You decide to marry the Orc and live together. Unfortunately, the Orc walks over a slime mine and blows up. You commit suicide, unable to bare the thought of living with out your one true love.

Wilfred of Ivanhoe

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #64 on: January 07, 2015, 10:49:46 pm »

Talk about "Later today," right? It's been a fairly interesting time since last I posted. Finals week, winter break, and netflix all hit pretty hard this time around and I just never really found the time until now. Aside from that, I've been in my own head for a very long time beating myself up real bad. Growing up is weird AF. But you didn't come here to hear about me; you came here to ROLL SOME FUCKIN' DICE! Also, there is some real talent in these rhymes, keep it up! :D

Counter that.
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
[6] You're swift counter caused half of the gang members to faint. The other half completely lost their shit and just screamed "OOOOOOOOOOOOHHH!!!" for several minutes as they ran around the street corner doing cool karate moves. One of the onlookers, Grandma Nelson, died of a heart attack, was revived instantly, and then died again after being karate kicked in the head by on of those gangsters. The whole audience was wylin' out and Marcus was pissed as shit. He scoffed "Alright, bitch, final round."
[1] Just as Marcus finished his lines, the whole crowd booed and threw pickles at him. One of the pickles hit him right in the eye and the salty brine of the pickle juices stung painfully, almost blinding him. "My eyeth, my eyeth! It hurtth tho bad!" he yelled as he stumbled into the street, gripping his face. Suddenly, out of fuckin' NO WHERE, an 18-wheeler barreled down the street at 160 miles-an-hour right at Marcus. Still blinded by the pickle juice. he could not see the bright headlights of the big rig and could not get out of the way. The truck hit him and was reduced to a pile of bloody gore in an instant. Blood and chunks of his flesh spread everywhere and covered the whole audience, who, at this point, were pretty indifferent about his violent death. His gold chain flew up in the air and [5] landed perfectly around your head and on your neck. One of his perfectly toned buttcheeks landed at your feet and all the gang members from before knelt before you. "You have proven to us that you are truely the best of rappers. Do with us as you please. We are yours to command," said one of the ballers. All [2] 20 of them begin to shout "All Hail Doris, Donut Queen forever!" You ponder for a moment how they knew your name when your musings and their chants are interrupted by another large tremor.

How did I not find this before

Spoiler: IN (click to show/hide)
[6] Your spaceship touches down in the middle of a street in San Fransisco, flattening several cars and possible a few people. You hop on out and find what appears to be [3] $300 in this planet's currency on one of the bodies. After looting the body, a hobo hops on out of an alley and shouts "I knew it! I knew the aliens would come eventually to save hip-hop!" The hobo then began doing cartwheels down the street. Yeah, this planet's definitely in need of your help. As you muse over how you're going to hide your spaceship from these peculiar beings, a ground beneath your feet shakes violently.

"Okay." Find a place to stay the night.
[3] You begin to search around for hotels. Unfortunately, the only place where you can rest your head is some dingy-looking motel just outside of town. This place looks like those places out in the middle of nowhere where travelers mysteriously vanish overnight. Anyway, you enter this place and the man behind the counter says in a stereotypically southern accent "Hey boy, you lickin' for a nice warm place to rest your soft, smooth head? It's $10 a night at our little slice of heav'n." It seems pretty shady, but as far as resting places go, this is all that's here. As you contemplate what to do, a small earthquake hits the area and you cling to the walls to maintain your balance.

Have me useless mooks provide some beat for my rapz!
Quote
Oh, I see, ya called fo' ya daddy,
you prolly also ride a pink caddie,
how about we play on same terms,
then you will feel the sharpness of my thorns.

I'll give, and say yer not shit,
you may give some words, and maybe even beat,
but if ya be an upstart, ya'll be hit,
and fuck up, like a total git.

I can do all I want, don't believe?
Here, your mother has HIV,
yer pops be a dog,
and your sister cann only get laid in a fog.

Dude, this is my hood,
and I find you rude,
trying to snatch my food,
but in the end, in crap you stood.

You think I give a fuck about you, lil' boy?
You nothing, but a little weak goy,
but here, how about a candy,
now, things will be just fine and dandy.
[4] With Jake and Jim being the only ones conscious, they apply vicious bass beats for you as you freestyle. The lyrical prowess you exhibit makes everyone shoot their firearms in the air in acknowledgement of your skill. The priest, the rabbi, and the monk went from twerkin' to straight up bumpin' and grindin' on each other like it was an R. Kelly concert. People stopped maiming each other and started getting down. Everybody was dancing freak-nasty style and getting all up in there. It was so hot, Johnny somehow managed to get a boner even though he was completely unconscious laying in a pool of malt liquor. The man from across you spews fire of his own, but where your was like napalm fire, his was but a dim, wet match match. The audience scoffs him off as though he doesn't exist and continue to dance real sexy-like. It then begins to rain Alizé and Cristal. Probably from all the freak-nasty dancing going on in the throngs of people surrounding the plateau. Suddenly, the same voice yells from the heavens "ROUND TWO TO THE (REMAINING) BLAK PUPPETZ!" A tremor of even greater strength hits the area. As far as you know, it's currently tied up, one to one.

Quote
"Alright, alright now. You may have gotten me with calling me a little boy, but

Gattamn, at least I ain't a little girl,
Your rhymes ain't sick, but they make wanna hurl,
My words unfurl,

Big name like a banner,
Rhymes are medical,
Fix up the timeline like a spanner,
Your rhymes are the poor house,
Mine are rich like a manor, and I got a matching manner,
Go back to scribbling rhymes in your middle school planner,
You're the nail, I'm the hammer, my lines enamour,
But they hurt you so hard, I should be put in the slammer,
Leave you desperate, panicking in a clamor,
You can't change, but my words shapeshift like a glamour,
Bite so deep, leave you with a stammer.
[2] The gentlemen from across the circle spit rhymes that make you question your abilities and your manhood. You respond with hot licks of your own, but in spite of the dope-ass quality of them rhymes, the audience just isn't feeling it. Maybe its a cultural difference, what with you being from the future and all. Anyway, the whole crowd seemed to ignore you and your bars as the hot-ass booty dancing and grinding began to make it rain Alizé and Cristal from the sky. Damn, that's some sensual-ass dancing. You think you may have seen the uncoscious body of that guy from across the circle that got hit with the 40oz get an erection from the hot-ass, fiery-ass booty dropping. Soaked in ghetto alcohol, you sulk heavily as a voice from the sky shouted "ROUND TWO TO THE (REMAINING) BLAK PUPPETZ!" The loudness of the voice sent reverbs that could be felt for miles. According to the voice, its one to one. Game point.

Can I join as an antagonist?

Real Name:Old Man Jenkins
Stage Name:"The Patriot"
Group Name And Members
6 elderly men that agree with him
Hometown:Washington D.C
Background:He's 97 years old and has seen the music industry go to rubbish, It's time to restore the good old days, Of Classical Music,At All Costs!

If not PTW
You and your troop of elderly men have rode on your scooters all the way to San Fran from D.C. It was an arduous journey filled with all sorts of crazy, but you all made it in one piece. You park outside of a club and figure that you and your crew have [6] $600 between you all. Ample currency for your mission. Suddenly, you spot a hobo cartwheeling down the street. He jumps, spins in the air, and lands perfectly in front of you all as you count money. He then pulls out a rusty knife. "Arrgh! I'm Cap'n Drake! Give me all your gold and valuables and maybe I won't fillet you like I did the Kraken!" Before you can respond, an earthquake hits you all, sending one of your crew members to the ground.
Logged
(1) You grab your golf bag and take out your gun. But then an Orc comes over and sensually gives you a massage. You decide to marry the Orc and live together. Unfortunately, the Orc walks over a slime mine and blows up. You commit suicide, unable to bare the thought of living with out your one true love.

WillowLuman

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #65 on: January 07, 2015, 11:04:48 pm »

LZ finds the source of the shakin'
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wipeout1024

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #66 on: January 08, 2015, 03:06:56 am »

"As your new queen, I tell you: RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!!"
Run away from the sounds of the tremor, and also try to locate where it is.
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Spinal_Taper

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #67 on: January 15, 2015, 08:06:04 pm »

For a split second, he looks as if he were to leave. But then, he steels his will. Masta Jamma had always said the rap game was tougher than a natural disaster. But he was tougher than the rap game, so he was most certainly tougher than an earthquake. And even if he wasn't, the power of rap would protect him.


"A tremor's comin' in, but I can't run, I've still got rhymes to spin.
Burn bitches, rap hard, wake up; do all this shit again.
But that's how it be in the life of a gangster, earthquakes, shit dude,I seen stranger...
I be stronger, lines hit so hard fakers check the sky, looking for a bomber.

But now, they get to realize, the force is coming from before their eyes. Savior of the Rap Game, money and wealth are my prize. Any try and match me, better bring a disguise,
So the people can't see the face, to match to the disgrace, when I kick them so hard they fall from grace!"
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SaberToothTiger

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #68 on: January 15, 2015, 10:08:02 pm »

Quote
Now, now kiddo, better go back to school,
'coz you only squeak and drool,
listening to the man,
as his kick ass lines ran,
you ain't event the future, but some non existant sissy,
who's pants are about to get real pissy.

You see? rhymes, everywhere, hurting your feelings,
'coz that's the only thing you have, no dealings
with the masters like me,
who will never reach his peak,
as he is infinitely good,
so being better is impossible,
so, my little fella dude,
the only thing you can be good, is a crucible.

Savior of the rap game? The rap game is livin',
not 'cause some bitch ass thinks he's killin',
but 'coz true playas like me? Oh, they be chillin',
the rap game was never better, still n'
guess what? better begin stealin'
wallets, 'coz your rhymes are poor, yeah.
Logged
I gaze into its milky depths, searching the wheat and sugar for the meanings I can never find.
It's like tea leaf divination, but with cartoon leprechauns.
There are only two sure things in life: death and taxes and lists and poor arithmetic and overlong jokes and poor memory and probably a few more things.

Wilfred of Ivanhoe

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #69 on: January 22, 2015, 09:59:08 am »

Woopsie!
LZ finds the source of the shakin'
[3] Try as you might, your alien technology cannot locate the source of the geological disturbances. You run all over the city as people marvel at your otherworldly clothes and strange countenance. You do happen to run past what appears to be a hobo mugging some old people, though. Suddenly, another tremor hits you that is so powerful, it sends you to the ground.

"As your new queen, I tell you: RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!!"
Run away from the sounds of the tremor, and also try to locate where it is.
[5] You and the gang run for your lives away from the tremors to a place in the city that isn't feeling it as much. You recall that one seismology class you had in high school and are able to pinpoint that the earthquake is coming from a place way downtown, where you heard that the riots were happening. As you are running, another tremor makes you fall flat on your face.

For a split second, he looks as if he were to leave. But then, he steels his will. Masta Jamma had always said the rap game was tougher than a natural disaster. But he was tougher than the rap game, so he was most certainly tougher than an earthquake. And even if he wasn't, the power of rap would protect him.


"A tremor's comin' in, but I can't run, I've still got rhymes to spin.
Burn bitches, rap hard, wake up; do all this shit again.
But that's how it be in the life of a gangster, earthquakes, shit dude,I seen stranger...
I be stronger, lines hit so hard fakers check the sky, looking for a bomber.

But now, they get to realize, the force is coming from before their eyes. Savior of the Rap Game, money and wealth are my prize. Any try and match me, better bring a disguise,
So the people can't see the face, to match to the disgrace, when I kick them so hard they fall from grace!"
Quote
Now, now kiddo, better go back to school,
'coz you only squeak and drool,
listening to the man,
as his kick ass lines ran,
you ain't event the future, but some non existant sissy,
who's pants are about to get real pissy.

You see? rhymes, everywhere, hurting your feelings,
'coz that's the only thing you have, no dealings
with the masters like me,
who will never reach his peak,
as he is infinitely good,
so being better is impossible,
so, my little fella dude,
the only thing you can be good, is a crucible.

Savior of the rap game? The rap game is livin',
not 'cause some bitch ass thinks he's killin',
but 'coz true playas like me? Oh, they be chillin',
the rap game was never better, still n'
guess what? better begin stealin'
wallets, 'coz your rhymes are poor, yeah.
[Spinal's [2] vs. Saber's [1]]
Masta Jamma fell to his knee. It looked over for him. It looked like the Blak Puppetz were going to take this one and win whatever the Rap Gods had in their heavenly coat pockets. Masta Jamma then rose to his feet and spoke some ill-ass rhymes. The audience reaction, however, was poor. Everyone stopped their dancing and began booing really hard. SO hard that a massive oil tanker crashed through several buildings and killed many people. It blew its foghorn in disgust. The whole scene was pitiful. Masta Jamma fell to his knees once more, this time, completely ready to suffer the fate of the loser of the prophetic battle. Suddenly, as the Blak Puppetz began to recite their raps, the whole audience of gangbangers, police officers, children, and other ne’er-do-wells began to riot so hard that blood, bullets, and limbs began flying everywhere from the extremity of the violence. Some guy stripped nude and started breakdancing so fast that he all his skin and musculature was grinded off of his bones until he was just a bloody skeleton doing handstands and head spins. A police officer bit out a gangster’s throat and blood poured out of his gaping throat hole like a fountain. A lady who was one of the original rioters/party-hardy-ers punched through a guy’s stomach, pulled out several yards of his intestines, and choked at least eight people to death while the guy was still alive. It was absolute chaos. Some of the rioters began to climb the stone plateau to try and get at the rappers for being so bad. Just as shit was about to get really bad, another earthquake struck, only, this time, it was worse than either of the last two. The ground shook so violently that everyone was cast to the ground. The same massive voice shouted from the heavens "GAME TO 'THE PROFIT!'" A massive fissure opened up in the ground, separating Masta Jamma from the Blak Puppetz. Molten lava poured out of the fissure and consumed several of the partiers. A fire demon popped out of the fissure and started slicing people in half with his fire whip. Buildings began to collapse due to the intensity of the earthquakes. An entire orphanage slides off of its foundation and slides straight into the fissure. This is an A-B conversation and you guys all figure you should C yourselves the F out.
Logged
(1) You grab your golf bag and take out your gun. But then an Orc comes over and sensually gives you a massage. You decide to marry the Orc and live together. Unfortunately, the Orc walks over a slime mine and blows up. You commit suicide, unable to bare the thought of living with out your one true love.

wipeout1024

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #70 on: January 22, 2015, 10:03:41 am »

Get further away from the tremors.
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SaberToothTiger

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #71 on: January 24, 2015, 02:41:01 pm »

"Coward!"
Run away.
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I gaze into its milky depths, searching the wheat and sugar for the meanings I can never find.
It's like tea leaf divination, but with cartoon leprechauns.
There are only two sure things in life: death and taxes and lists and poor arithmetic and overlong jokes and poor memory and probably a few more things.

Wilfred of Ivanhoe

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #72 on: January 30, 2015, 09:42:33 am »

I think from now on I'll try to update at least twice a week or something cuz this thread needs some regularity. ON WITH THE SHOW.

Get further away from the tremors.
[5] You and the crew run for your lives to the outskirts of the city center, where the tremors are not felt. You look back and you see that a large portion of the town appears to be on fire.

"Coward!"
Run away.
[6] You, Jim, Johnny, and Jake high-tail it the hell out of what can only be described as "Rapnarok" (get it?). You run down the street, past a group of elderly gentlemen getting mugged by a seemingly homeless man, past some kind of plane that you've never seen before, and beyond the city limits, all without alerting any police authority.
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(1) You grab your golf bag and take out your gun. But then an Orc comes over and sensually gives you a massage. You decide to marry the Orc and live together. Unfortunately, the Orc walks over a slime mine and blows up. You commit suicide, unable to bare the thought of living with out your one true love.

LuckyKobold

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #73 on: January 30, 2015, 09:49:58 am »

Go Recruit Senior Citizens to purge this Musical Filth!

Wilfred of Ivanhoe

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Re: Roll to Rap: Save the Hip-Hop Industry
« Reply #74 on: January 30, 2015, 10:43:52 am »

((If I may, you are currently being held at knifepoint by a homeless man and may wish to reconsider.))
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(1) You grab your golf bag and take out your gun. But then an Orc comes over and sensually gives you a massage. You decide to marry the Orc and live together. Unfortunately, the Orc walks over a slime mine and blows up. You commit suicide, unable to bare the thought of living with out your one true love.
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