Fame VS Game in Newport Beach
Fame VS Game in Newport Beach
There is a lot of talk out there today about Fame VS Game. Although, I exist in the shadows, shun the spotlight and value my privacy (especially in my line of work), and a huge proponent of Game, I have had some run-ins with Fame.
Let me drop a little freestyle:
MC in Newport Beach
Back when I was a puerile pro-type G, I was partying at a nightclub in Newport Beach. Most likely in those days, I was there all vato’d out, moving some beans like an accountant. It was a typical Newport Beach night; fly girls, wack guys, weesh nightspot. You know the pill.
Anyways, I think there was some wack band (a real tragedy, and I don’t mean Juice Crew, I mean what the word defines) performing or some crap, I can’t really remember, and thankfully, there was a lull in the action. During this “lull”, the DJ surprisingly enough, started spinning a pretty dope beat. My running partner at the time and I both had a light bulb go off at the exact same time.
We both jumped on stage, grabbed the Mic’s and started moving the crowd with lyrical flows, flavor loops like Toucan Sam, iller, and started catching wreck like Godliza:
“Now to the peeps in the back, if you’re not the wack, say
[don’t stop with the body rock]
Now all the people in the front, if you’re ready to bump, say
[don’t stop with the body rock] “
My running partner and I were busting freestyle raps, precious like artifacts.
We were putting “the hip” in “hop” and the “don’t” in “stop” and the clips in glocks
and rock boxing your block.
The mad matador of metaphor ripped the hard core for him and his, them and theirs, and you and yours.
We even dropped some lyrics about Taco Shops and Quesadillas with extra Guac.
Whenever I would run out of lyrics, I would just bust some old Big Daddy Kane:
“Rappers stepping to me,
they want to get some,
But I’m the G, so yo, you know the outcome, Another victory, They can’t get with me,
So pick a BC date cause you’re history”
And so on.
Keep in mind, this was Newport Beach; it was probably one of the first times people even heard Hip-Hop. There was minimal risk of anyone noticing I was biting lyrics.
At first there was stunned looks on the faces of the crowd, but as my running partner and I were flowing back and forth with style unseen since the days of a young Ad-Rock and Mike D, and interspersing shout outs to our crew, we started to move the crowd.
That is, until the club owner pulled the plug. (I guess the wack band coming on next was getting bitter that we cold served them.)
My running partner and I then jumped off the stage into the crowd and a curious thing happened: We were literally mobbed and I mean mobbed by girls. Introductions, hugs and kisses all around. It was kind of ill. We were Eminem before Em was Marshall Mathers.
Thinking back, I am surprised I didn’t forgo my budding Standover career for a career in Hip-Hop. Financially, with all the problems the music industry is having these days; I think I made the correct decision.
But swooping girls wise, I am not so certain.
The Rest is Up to You…
Michael Porfirio Mason
AKA The Peoples Champ
AKA GFK, Jr.
AKA The Sly, Slick and the Wicked
AKA The Voodoo Child
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