Mixtape Track 3: What's My Name? (Rumble RP 4)
Apr 23, 2018 10:21:17 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer and Jack Diamond like this
Post by Technical Perfection on Apr 23, 2018 10:21:17 GMT -5
Somewhere in a cheap looking house in San Jose, an alarm rings.
"Fuck."
The voice belong to Taane. He looks over at the alarm an sees that the time is 9am. Late. There’s a reason to set two alarms. Taane rolls out of bed and whips a long piece of cloth, his lavalava, off the floor beside the bed and on instinct folds it around his waist and into itself. Yawning loudly, Taane stretches and walks slowly into the living room.
"Hey, Chris. You coming down to the gym with me?"
Passed out on the sofa is the large Samoan form of his friend and apparently now coach Big Chris Fa’amasino. Chris is snoring, loudly, following what can only be described as a heavy night partying. Taane smirks to himself.
"Guess not."
Taane strides back into his room and throws a couple of sets of clothes into his gym bag, along with a towel (with a Polynesian print on it because, you know, that’s just who he is). Taane sniffs the air around himself and picks up a can of antiperspirant, giving himself a quick blast under the arm pit before tossing the can into the bag. Suddenly something catches his eye. The glint of a CD, placed carefully on his bedside cabinet.
"Well. If I know my daddy, there’s gonna be some gym tracks on here."
~~~
Mid morning, a gym in downtown San Jose. Taane, face dripping with sweat, sits on a weight bench performining a few bicep curls for the camera. The gym is quiet, a few other patrons using the other bits of lifting machinery. Taane calls out to the other lifters in an assured tone.
"Hey, boys. Mind if I put a tune on?"
There is a small ripple of noise from the other patrons, but no dissent. Taane pauses his lifting routine and walks over to his gym bag. Lifting a familiar CD out, he walks over to the old fashioned stereo in the corner of the gym, Taane slides the CD into the player and cranks up the volume. Taane turns to the camera crew the XHF has sent to the gym for him. Recognising the beat of the next track his daddy had lined up for him, Taane grins broadly.
This is the fuckin’ shit I be talkin about
Half rappin' ass mothafuckers
You think it's a game? You think it's a fuckin’ GAME?
Come on, uh, uh, uh
Come on, uh, uh...
What'cha really want
What'cha really want, what
D-M-X, uh, uh...
Come on, RYDE OF DIE
Ay yo, ay yo, ay yo,
WHAT’S MY NAME?
"Ah SHIT, baby. This is how we do. This is how we do this shit, all day, all NIGHT. I’ve been in this gym here lifting, running on the cross trainer, working out on the heavy bag to keep my fists sharp. Sitting down and watching tape to keep my brain sharp. Heading out to my tailor so I can dress sharp. And for why? FOR WHY?
So I can get to doing what I do BEST. Throwing fools around like they was paper at a filing office. Making big plays, making big hits, making cheddar. I’m talking fat stacks of cash for the work I put in. This wrestling shit is gonna get crazy, and when shit gets crazy, I get crazy back, brah.
Because the Rumble, this here event that the XHF are holding puts your boy, your new favourite wrestler, that one they call Taane against the best, the VERY best the XHF network has to offer. For others they get a chance to settle scores. Let blood feuds spill out into the ring. Everybody is talking about who they hate and who they gonna beat on. That’s cool. That’s pro wrestling. But me? I’m currently without an employer. And I get to prove to all of you that this current state of affairs ain’t gonna last for long.
I’m talking about the shop window, my iwi. See my cellphone has already been ringing off the hook with federation leaders asking me, “Do ya wanna come sign for us?” And I told them, “Maybe after The Rumble,” because I got full focus on this match. But if I put in my best performance, if I get to show off to the whole watching wrestling world, if I even win the damn thing which you shouldn’t be ruling out as a possibility, I get to hike up my price tag. The bigwigs gonna be pounding down my new front door and waving fistfuls of Ben Franklins in my face.
So, what’s the plan, Tan’? What’s the strategy for a Rumble match? Lemme tell you all a secret, Network subs. You’ve been hearing from all these top talent. Maverick wants to take the world on. Fair plan, you gotta do that at some stage. But there are couple of guys he has major beef with. He really don’t like Jack Diamond. Jack Diamond really don’t like Jackson Steele. List goes on and on. Everybody, everybody is aiming at the big bullseye on Rob Arnold’s back. I’ve heard people come from all different feds, all different parts of The Network calling people out. Even when they get to listing who they’re gonna throw out, it’s the big names or guys from their home federation. One name that no motherfucker has mentioned so far?
Mine.
Hey, that’s cool. You just ignore your boy here, get your aggression out on each other. I’m happy to be the dark horse in this fight. Y’all are all probably thinking of me as a massive underdog. You keep thinking that. You can all think that for as long as you damn need. “Who’s that guy? He ain’t nothing.” Keep that in mind. And then when your body hits the floor outside the ring you can think, “Who was that guy who dumped me out?”
You ain’t hiring. I don’t give a fuck what you think of me. Every body I throw out the ring, every superstar I chump dump, that’s just more dollars in my bank account in future. I don’t know your rep, I ain’t got the greatest sense for who a lot of you are. But I’m learning. I got me a ton of studying to do to learn every damn weakness in your game. Maybe, down the road, all these guys who I’m up against are potential opponents in a one on one encounter. But until that day, I’m just a guy, yeah?
But to those who are hiring. You watch. You pay good damn attention to what I’m gonna achieve in that bear pit that is the XHF Rumble. How all these superstars, all these top wrestlers get to play a nice little game of “The Floor Is Lava” against gravity. Spoiler alert. Gravity wins. There’s a lot of top, top talent in the ring. I ain’t denying that. I might not be the biggest dude, I might not be the hottest name out there. But by Rangi and Papa I am leaving it all out on the line in that ring. I’m like a big ass power forward going hard in the paint.
Hey… That gives me an idea.
I’m like a linebacker blitzing on the competition. But linebacker was my second sport in college. I’m a Sevens player, working hard of offense AND defense, never stopping, never slowing down. Just busting my lungs every second that I’m in the game because if you don’t, you get beat. It’s a game of skill, power, passion. It’s a game of fitness, non stop. Other motherfuckers in the match think they’re gonna outlast me? Cardio, brah. I bring it.
Lemme tell you something about Sevens for those who don’t know. You score a try, you plant that ball over the goal line, you gotta get up and convert it yourself. No needing some clean shirted fly half to do it for you, no calling on the kick unit for a PAT. And that’s what Imma do in the Rumble. See I ain’t got goalposts to aim for. I got ringposts. I ain’t got a ball, I got dead weight of wrestlers I just planted. And I ain’t got a crossbar. I got a huge span of top rope. So I get to plant a fool down, and then I get to convert that by throwing them over the ropes. Plant a fool down. Throw over ropes. It ain’t rocket science.
Seems like nobody is mentioning one name for people they want to fight. Seems like everybody is overlooking what one name is gonna achieve in the match. Seems like nobody is mentioning one name as a potential winner. But when the smoke clears? One name is gonna be on everybody’s lips. See there a lot of talent out there who learned how to do this. But there’s only one boy in the match who was born to do this.
TAANE."
D-M-X
If you want it we got it
Come and get it ***** we wit it
All you gotta do is set it baby
RYDE OR DIE
What'cha ***** want, uh, uh
What'cha ***** want
"Fuck."
The voice belong to Taane. He looks over at the alarm an sees that the time is 9am. Late. There’s a reason to set two alarms. Taane rolls out of bed and whips a long piece of cloth, his lavalava, off the floor beside the bed and on instinct folds it around his waist and into itself. Yawning loudly, Taane stretches and walks slowly into the living room.
"Hey, Chris. You coming down to the gym with me?"
Passed out on the sofa is the large Samoan form of his friend and apparently now coach Big Chris Fa’amasino. Chris is snoring, loudly, following what can only be described as a heavy night partying. Taane smirks to himself.
"Guess not."
Taane strides back into his room and throws a couple of sets of clothes into his gym bag, along with a towel (with a Polynesian print on it because, you know, that’s just who he is). Taane sniffs the air around himself and picks up a can of antiperspirant, giving himself a quick blast under the arm pit before tossing the can into the bag. Suddenly something catches his eye. The glint of a CD, placed carefully on his bedside cabinet.
"Well. If I know my daddy, there’s gonna be some gym tracks on here."
~~~
Mid morning, a gym in downtown San Jose. Taane, face dripping with sweat, sits on a weight bench performining a few bicep curls for the camera. The gym is quiet, a few other patrons using the other bits of lifting machinery. Taane calls out to the other lifters in an assured tone.
"Hey, boys. Mind if I put a tune on?"
There is a small ripple of noise from the other patrons, but no dissent. Taane pauses his lifting routine and walks over to his gym bag. Lifting a familiar CD out, he walks over to the old fashioned stereo in the corner of the gym, Taane slides the CD into the player and cranks up the volume. Taane turns to the camera crew the XHF has sent to the gym for him. Recognising the beat of the next track his daddy had lined up for him, Taane grins broadly.
This is the fuckin’ shit I be talkin about
Half rappin' ass mothafuckers
You think it's a game? You think it's a fuckin’ GAME?
Come on, uh, uh, uh
Come on, uh, uh...
What'cha really want
What'cha really want, what
D-M-X, uh, uh...
Come on, RYDE OF DIE
Ay yo, ay yo, ay yo,
WHAT’S MY NAME?
"Ah SHIT, baby. This is how we do. This is how we do this shit, all day, all NIGHT. I’ve been in this gym here lifting, running on the cross trainer, working out on the heavy bag to keep my fists sharp. Sitting down and watching tape to keep my brain sharp. Heading out to my tailor so I can dress sharp. And for why? FOR WHY?
So I can get to doing what I do BEST. Throwing fools around like they was paper at a filing office. Making big plays, making big hits, making cheddar. I’m talking fat stacks of cash for the work I put in. This wrestling shit is gonna get crazy, and when shit gets crazy, I get crazy back, brah.
Because the Rumble, this here event that the XHF are holding puts your boy, your new favourite wrestler, that one they call Taane against the best, the VERY best the XHF network has to offer. For others they get a chance to settle scores. Let blood feuds spill out into the ring. Everybody is talking about who they hate and who they gonna beat on. That’s cool. That’s pro wrestling. But me? I’m currently without an employer. And I get to prove to all of you that this current state of affairs ain’t gonna last for long.
I’m talking about the shop window, my iwi. See my cellphone has already been ringing off the hook with federation leaders asking me, “Do ya wanna come sign for us?” And I told them, “Maybe after The Rumble,” because I got full focus on this match. But if I put in my best performance, if I get to show off to the whole watching wrestling world, if I even win the damn thing which you shouldn’t be ruling out as a possibility, I get to hike up my price tag. The bigwigs gonna be pounding down my new front door and waving fistfuls of Ben Franklins in my face.
So, what’s the plan, Tan’? What’s the strategy for a Rumble match? Lemme tell you all a secret, Network subs. You’ve been hearing from all these top talent. Maverick wants to take the world on. Fair plan, you gotta do that at some stage. But there are couple of guys he has major beef with. He really don’t like Jack Diamond. Jack Diamond really don’t like Jackson Steele. List goes on and on. Everybody, everybody is aiming at the big bullseye on Rob Arnold’s back. I’ve heard people come from all different feds, all different parts of The Network calling people out. Even when they get to listing who they’re gonna throw out, it’s the big names or guys from their home federation. One name that no motherfucker has mentioned so far?
Mine.
Hey, that’s cool. You just ignore your boy here, get your aggression out on each other. I’m happy to be the dark horse in this fight. Y’all are all probably thinking of me as a massive underdog. You keep thinking that. You can all think that for as long as you damn need. “Who’s that guy? He ain’t nothing.” Keep that in mind. And then when your body hits the floor outside the ring you can think, “Who was that guy who dumped me out?”
You ain’t hiring. I don’t give a fuck what you think of me. Every body I throw out the ring, every superstar I chump dump, that’s just more dollars in my bank account in future. I don’t know your rep, I ain’t got the greatest sense for who a lot of you are. But I’m learning. I got me a ton of studying to do to learn every damn weakness in your game. Maybe, down the road, all these guys who I’m up against are potential opponents in a one on one encounter. But until that day, I’m just a guy, yeah?
But to those who are hiring. You watch. You pay good damn attention to what I’m gonna achieve in that bear pit that is the XHF Rumble. How all these superstars, all these top wrestlers get to play a nice little game of “The Floor Is Lava” against gravity. Spoiler alert. Gravity wins. There’s a lot of top, top talent in the ring. I ain’t denying that. I might not be the biggest dude, I might not be the hottest name out there. But by Rangi and Papa I am leaving it all out on the line in that ring. I’m like a big ass power forward going hard in the paint.
Hey… That gives me an idea.
I’m like a linebacker blitzing on the competition. But linebacker was my second sport in college. I’m a Sevens player, working hard of offense AND defense, never stopping, never slowing down. Just busting my lungs every second that I’m in the game because if you don’t, you get beat. It’s a game of skill, power, passion. It’s a game of fitness, non stop. Other motherfuckers in the match think they’re gonna outlast me? Cardio, brah. I bring it.
Lemme tell you something about Sevens for those who don’t know. You score a try, you plant that ball over the goal line, you gotta get up and convert it yourself. No needing some clean shirted fly half to do it for you, no calling on the kick unit for a PAT. And that’s what Imma do in the Rumble. See I ain’t got goalposts to aim for. I got ringposts. I ain’t got a ball, I got dead weight of wrestlers I just planted. And I ain’t got a crossbar. I got a huge span of top rope. So I get to plant a fool down, and then I get to convert that by throwing them over the ropes. Plant a fool down. Throw over ropes. It ain’t rocket science.
Seems like nobody is mentioning one name for people they want to fight. Seems like everybody is overlooking what one name is gonna achieve in the match. Seems like nobody is mentioning one name as a potential winner. But when the smoke clears? One name is gonna be on everybody’s lips. See there a lot of talent out there who learned how to do this. But there’s only one boy in the match who was born to do this.
TAANE."
D-M-X
If you want it we got it
Come and get it ***** we wit it
All you gotta do is set it baby
RYDE OR DIE
What'cha ***** want, uh, uh
What'cha ***** want
