We interrupt our normal programming for an important public service announcement...
These are serious times. The decent, peace-loving people of the world face unprecedented and terrible threats. One of these is an even more potent peril than the rest of them combined—surpassing by far the strife wreaked by hurricanes, earthquakes and swarms of killer bees. These are, I’m sure you’ll agree, natural phenomena and, as such, are morally blameless. But the menace I wish to discuss here is all-too-human. These people, depraved and dangerous, exist in every nation, in every state, and in every town both large and small. Sometimes banded together in small cells and other times completely independent, no one can predict where they’ll strike next or how much damage they’ll inflict as they pursue their inscrutable, nefarious aims.
As you may have guessed, I’m talking about sucker M.C.s
Oh, sure, there are people who might brand me an alarmist. They might say I’m blowing the problem out of all proportion in order to stoke fear and justify hard-line policies. However, I submit that the the people who would say this either (a) fail to appreciate the gravity of the problem, or (b) are sucker M.C.s themselves. And, I assure you, I don’t level that charge lightly.
Gone are the days when sucker M.C.s could be easily identified by their abundant neck chains, their brightly-colored oversized button-down shirts, and their poorly made gold teeth. The contemporary sucker M.C. is sophisticated enough to blend into the wider community of M.C.s, and often even an expert can remain absolutely ignorant of their sucker status. Until, of course, they open their mouth and release their weak rhymes, empty boasts, and dookie-like flow. At that point, the damage has already been done.
Some people ask me if it is time to panic. I answer them in the affirmative. Anyone who questions this has obviously never witnessed first hand the pain and devastation a single sucker M.C., let alone a whole crew of them, can leave in his or her wake. Take it from me, people: the whole damn street’s gonna beg for relief, the ears of the innocent cry out that your wack hustle is killin ‘em, and even a cop’s gotta drop his doughnut and let you know enough is enough, mothafucka.
Understand: I don’t care if you kick it old or new school---that shit those sucker M.C.’s lay down ain’t nothing but baby drool. But---and this is the thing—it’s baby drool of a particularly venomous sort, as it threatens to discredit the rap game not only for O.G.s, but also for some of these young guns coming up from Ill-town, Compton, Strong Island, the A-T-L and the rest of the Dirty Souf’. I cannot say it strong enough: with all these sucker M.C.s up in the place, the club’s become a goddamn disgrace.
But, and this I have to emphasize, it is not recommended that the average man on the block play hero and attempt to stop a sucker M.C. from frontin’. That’s what the United States military, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and Kool Moe Dee are for. Your valor is appreciated, but it pays to keep in mind the code: when that shit they’re slinging gets you all disgusted, step off, fool, before your ass gets busted. You have to realize that those words aren’t just meant as beautiful poetry.
