When Howard and I lived in Stamford Hill we'd go lots to the old man's Wetherspoon pub in Stoke Newington, The Rochester Castle, because it was cheap and we had little money. We'd have no fun at all and then we'd go to the Jolly Butchers up the road which, in those days at least, had the potential of odd, aggressive people forcing themselves on you. They had a lock in most nights, so we would go there and have no fun.
On one occasion we met a rapper (that was his description of himself) in the Rochester Castle. He insisted on teaching me his favourite rap. I found this very amusing and we all had lots of fun getting drunk and then he decided to take us to a local recording studio, we were to improvise a rap together.
Fortunately the studio was just closing and didn't want anything to do with him since he was drunk. But then an amazing thing happened. On the corner of Evering Road and Stoke Newington High Street he christened me with a gang name using something that he found on the road in place of a sword, with three other gang members present to bear witness.
I woke up the next morning with a real hangover. Honestly, hangovers don't usually bother me but this one was notable. But I had forgot my gang name!! I remembered the ceremony well, but my special gang name, to which I was now entitled, well, it was gone, forever.
I do remember the rap that he made me learn over pints and pints of lager though:
'I'm smooth as vanilla 'cos I'm ice on the mic,
weaving in and out like a flying kite,
but there's death on the block 'cos dope's on the scene,
sucker gettin' iced 'cos the gansta leads'
More of a poem than a rap, huh?
On one occasion we met a rapper (that was his description of himself) in the Rochester Castle. He insisted on teaching me his favourite rap. I found this very amusing and we all had lots of fun getting drunk and then he decided to take us to a local recording studio, we were to improvise a rap together.
Fortunately the studio was just closing and didn't want anything to do with him since he was drunk. But then an amazing thing happened. On the corner of Evering Road and Stoke Newington High Street he christened me with a gang name using something that he found on the road in place of a sword, with three other gang members present to bear witness.
I woke up the next morning with a real hangover. Honestly, hangovers don't usually bother me but this one was notable. But I had forgot my gang name!! I remembered the ceremony well, but my special gang name, to which I was now entitled, well, it was gone, forever.
I do remember the rap that he made me learn over pints and pints of lager though:
'I'm smooth as vanilla 'cos I'm ice on the mic,
weaving in and out like a flying kite,
but there's death on the block 'cos dope's on the scene,
sucker gettin' iced 'cos the gansta leads'
More of a poem than a rap, huh?
I'm going to think of a new rap name for you and I will christen you soon
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