As I said two weeks ago, there exist only two types of people who ride the bus on a daily basis. One type: me. The second type: a bunch of annoying, unhealthy, delusional whack-jobs who talk too much. In that second type of riders are a lot of sub-categories. And the one I'd like to address this issue is the guy who raps out loud from the back seat of the bus.
Nothing can ruin my ride home like the guy who raps out loud from the back of the bus. Not even the overweight teenage girl in pink sweat pants who can't put down her cell phone any more than she can put down a bottle of Diet Coke and bag of Cheetos kills me like the rapper. I want to describe this guy to you so you can just plain avoid him. He usually wears a baggy stained light blue Charlotte Hornets athletic outfit and a Los Angeles Kings sideways baseball cap. And he freestyle raps, loudly and horribly, to the rest of the bus. "My MC name is Squizzly Dee, I'll bust up any skeezer who mess with me...Cap in your ass, cap in your chest, I'm Squizzly Dee, and I rap the best." It goes on and on. I just made that up, but trust me, his rhymes sound that bad. In fact, it's worse because he mixes in swear words on every line. And it's not like he's doing this along with headphones or even a buddy that provides a beat box. Rapper guy just raps away out loud.
Now here's the thing. His outfit's statement, I assume, is to project an idea that this guy has a love of old school sports. But in my heart, I know that if I asked him whom Larry Johnson played for he'd not know. Or even who Gretski's second pro team was, rapper guy would sit stumped. Want to know why I don't wear Dave Matthew's' Band tee shirts or NASCAR hats? It's because I harbor no correlation to either one. Don't front, rapper guy. You haven't picked up a basketball since you dropped out of 10th grade. And even more important about not fronting, do not freestyle gangsta lyrics on public transportation. There's nothing tough about riding the bus. If you rolled in a sweet black BMW, wearing custom made leather jackets; then, then you can bust out rhymes about how you'll slap down any beeootches who touch your bling in an unsavory manner. You are riding the bus and can't even afford a good set of headphones. The area between downtown and 6th and 9th Spur is not open stage at the Apollo. Don't front on us, MC Squizzly Dee.
