If
I was a rapper
The Year
Fives at Cromwell High entered a literary completion, in which they had to
write a creative piece about a day in the life of being something different or unusual.
The winning piece was written by Joshua Gruntle of class 5k, entitled ‘If I was
a rapper’.
I was awoken by two Crips (Dylan and Mark) playing Frisbee in the
back garden, I shot them with my glock. My girl (or as I call her shorty) is
asleep so I slap her big rear and then go brush my gold teeth, I use bleach to
do this, as regular toothpaste doesn’t clean gold. I go down to the breakfast
table (which is also a Jacuzzi) and smoke a un-lit cigar while one of my many
hoes makes me breakfast. I had roast beef, because I am a rapper and
traditional breakfast s don’t mean s**t to me, much like the women (or as I
call them hoes) that I sleep with on a regular basis in various demeaning
sexual positions.
Then after breakfast, I get dressed and put on fourteen gold
chains, one for each gang member I have murdered. I roll out in my chrome
convertible jet to go to the liquor store and get some gin and juice. On the way there a gaggle of Bloods gave me
the finger so I shot them with my glock (note to self I may need more glock
ammo). I go home with my other rapper buddies ‘MC Lil J-K’ and ‘Lil Mc K-J’’,
and we all got really high on paracetamol and talked about rapper stuff like
car rims, diamond watches, hip hop and kale. We then had lunch, which was
Scotch eggs. Rappers love scotch eggs.
Then after lunch a girl (hoe) I used to have a thing with back in
89’ comes into my house crying and saying she still loved me, I said ‘Rihanna,
we are just not going to work.’ Bloody hoes, if I had a dollar for every time a
hoe did that to me, I would have a fair amount of toilet roll, because I, like
most rappers, wipe my bum with money. Also I pay a guy twenty grand a day just to
flush the toilet every six minutes.
It was seven o’clock according to my necklace so I went out with
my rapper friends to a night club where they played our music. I got in a lot
of fights with rival rappers one called me a phony and I ain’t no phony I am
the realest mother-f******g
mother-f*****r in this place.
After I beat him with one of my hoes, I
proceeded to order rapper drinks like carrot juice and bottled water, even
though you can get water free from the tap I like to get it in bottles to
heighten my masculinity.
When clubbing was over I go back to my five acre bed, which Vince my
butler has spent the day cleaning, and do stuff with all the women (hoes) that
I brought back from the club (da club). Tomorrow is just another day as a rapper,
I may get a tattoo.
