Posted 2:33 PM by Andy
Inspired by the combination of free-style rappers and the classical poets, here are my attempts at verse. First up is the ever popular romantic variety.

Pining for lover

The flow of your tresses
The promise of your caresses
The prints on your dresses
Stop the presses

The sparkle in your eyes
The moon reflecting your light
I have no more fight
I just know this isn’t right

Separated by distance
Jinxed by time
Will it make a difference
If I declare you mine?

Shadows on the walls
Images at the malls
The wound most unkind
Reverberating in my mind

If I command generals
Or give sight to the blind
If I dine with kings
Or raise orphans with my time

If I win the adulation of millions
Or the applause of men
If I pacify my enemies
And multiply my friends

Will it erase the specter
Of your leaving me for another
Will it soothe the pain
Of your unyielding disdain?

The next most popular style of verse is the put-down, its best practitioners being Gary Payton and MJ among other athletes.

Who’s got game?

You thought I was a scrub
A patsy for you to snub
You saw my wiry frame
And thought I have no game
You let me slip in the draft
You forgot to do the math
When you were out partying
I was in the gym sweating
When you were at girls hollering
I was focused and balling
‘Cuz when I post my triple-doubles
I’m nothing but trouble
You didn’t know what was brewing
‘Til I dunked on you like Pippen on Ewing
The terror in your eyes
Your worst nightmares will I satisfy
When I gear up for the shake
And leave you in my wake
You shouldn’t have gone for my fake
Lest your ankle should break
When your forays to the hoop
Are denied by my defensive moves
When your will to battle
Has been decimated to a joke brittle
When you’re driven to tears
By my sweet nothings in your ears
Then you will recognize your fame
Is hollow, and fear my name
So who’s got game?

The last type of rhyme is the lifestyle rap, where the protagonist’s life is rhapsodized or glamorized.

Thug Life

West side connect
Yo, don’t fret
This is how we roll
Niggas feel our flow
Sippin’ Cristal
Smokin’ a blunt that’s foul
Strap on my Glock
I’ve got this hood locked
Honeys wearin’ sassoons
Preachers sportin’ pantaloons
Who’re we gonna hit up?
The old g’ or the young pup?
You thought you were fly as a Mafiosa
Didn’t know I had ties to the Yakuza
I’ve got police chasing me
FBI’s building a file of my hold on these streets
My boy’s doin’ 25 years
211 have no fear
LA engulfed in flames
The handiwork of my dawg James
9/11 shattered the visage
Of a peaceful world message
Youth disconsolate
You want me to take over the world?
Yo, I’m on it.