Originally, I was going to write some long rant about how everyone is overreacting to the freestyle rap “attempt” by incoming OU freshman Josh Jarboe. In it, I was going to complain about the people that want Jarboe kicked off the team. You know, the boring white stale people from Oklahoma who are shocked that a young African-American male from the bad part of Atlanta raps about guns, shooting people, and bitches. You know, the people who have never listened to “gangsta rap” and don’t know that the rapper generally gives a glamorized narrative of a street life filled with guns, gangs and drugs. The people that don’t understand that this doesn’t appear to be premeditated”“that he was simply freestyling”“meaning he came up with this stuff off the top of his head, and in the process, threw out all those boring rap cliches that 90% of the players on the football team listen to each and everyday.
No. I wasn’t going to write about that stuff at all. I figured it would be more fun to to try transcribe his rap into a spoken word poem you might hear some hipster recite at open mike night at Galileo. Enjoy:
Back in the thing once again. Everybody know me? My chest you already know says
I’m tatted up. I shoot your ass, yeah, like you be halo. Halo got a fine bitch that looks like she J-Lo. Take my shirt off and I be tatted up like I’m fabled. Shoot you in the head and you might be dead with a
So hold on don’t beg for your life. And hold on, don’t ask please.
It’s me, Jarboe, and my nigga Steve recording this thing on this mother fucking camera. You don’t really want it. Like your ass on the camera, like a counter, I fuck around with my tools on the counter.
Nigga best believe I’m from Atlanta, (from Atlanta) where they tote guns and tote AKs
(and AKs) and then got dreads and low cut fades. And low cut fades.
And everybody know I say “A”
and everything I say in the mother fucking place knock a mother fucking ass in his mother fucking place
Had a gun
Now i’m in Oklahoma,
Nigga I grauduated from school
so you know I got my diploma
Nigga get hit, I put his ass in a coma.
Got a fine bitch and her name is Sonya, her name is Sonya. Bitch I keep it real. Dread head, went red, and I got a grill. Dragging hos from United states all the way to Brazil. If she like a barbeque, I put my meat up on her grill
I keep it real.
Rock black label, I’ll shoot your ass up like a damn pool table.