Turning_a_New_Leaf

Turning a New Leaf My palms are sweaty, my knees are shaking, I'm walking around in the state capital, and miraculously I begin to get cotton mouth. The speakers echo the words I was not ready to hear, "sign-up." I walked nervously up to the stand, steadied my pen, and wrote my name on the line. I have emcee battled before but this was in a bigger city with people I have never seen in my life. To make matters worse I have only competed in on other emcee battle, but I was in a comfortable state then due to the fact that I knew who was in the crowd. Since I have begun to emcee I have been ridiculed for trying to be the next 50 cent or something on the lines of that, but I do this for me, myself, and only me. Now the time has come for this emcee to man-up and press start. This Boise battle was going to test my devotion to the game or hip-hop and myself confidence. I really do not have family traditions like others, but one common love is over passion for music. This is the foundation to my lyrical influence. I did not begin reading, writing, and _spitting flames or free styling rhymes as a kindergartner or anything in that area. I first learned to break dance through the teaching of my older brother at an early age of nine, which later progressed into another element of hip-hop, graffiti art. So it only seems logical that I should pick up another piece of the urban pie by becoming a master of ceremonies, otherwise known as an "MC._" I figured out that I could write pretty well in my seventh-grade English Language class through the guidance of my teacher, Mrs. Geer. I wrote this poem in the middle of the night when I could not sleep and I did it all in rhyme; October 20th, 2002, was the date. This signified my evolution as now being more than just a b-boy or a graff-artist, but now I becoming lyrical on paper. The process took me sometime, but over months I taught myself to think on my toes, and attempt rhymes right of the dome or brain. I injected myself over and over with this new art style like it was heroine. Naturally my practice was no longer practice but the way I spoke to myself when I was alone and with my friends. I was at ease with my new-born talent and with the veteran experience of two years or so put it to the test in an actual emcee battle. I won with such hits or punch-lines as. "You might talk about killing and the guns, but when anything goes down you're the first one to run!" and daggers or punch-lines like "hibbity sak boo la da da I don't know what you're sayin'-you rap to fast-try to beat me'" Ya must be playin'!" I walked off the stage with much needed confidence and a self-esteem boost. As 365 days pass this art fills my heart and soul giving me higher expectations for myself. I begin to write like crazy as if I were Nostradamus foretelling futuristic predictions. I fill up 70 page notebooks front and back like I was writing for the _New York Times. I dissected my verbal power like I was back in my seventh-grade biology class. This became my focus, and when I ran out of paper my mind would continue scripting on its own, but nothing would be permanent. Everything I would say then would be evaporated into thin air after I released it from my vocal chords. I did nothing but eat, sleep, and talk as an emcee for so long that I really could not be touched or come in close comparison to by many other emcees. I progress efficiently and begin to battle anytime I had the chance. I walked to and from school everyday and this became my favorite part of the day, and I just bounced my head as if I was hearing the snare drums and bass lines to an instrumental. I would begin to rock the mic _or begin rapping about my surroundings to tone my skills. The 35 minutes to myself everyday for nine months advanced my novice skills to something I could have never have predicted the strength to battle in our state capital, Boise. Arriving with my brother, sister-in-law, and my nephews to the Cinco De Mayo Festival in Boise was incredible. Never have I seen so much art and freedom of styles placed together, sure there is a Twin Falls car show, but this is different, it is not focused around one item in particular. As we walk past the campus building of Boise State University, I begin to see a stage and wonder what is going on the urban side of the festival; was there an artist coming to do their thing or perform. We kept walking forward as if it was nothing, but then I hear it loud and clear, "Emcee battle sign-ups right here! Come here if you think you can spit or rap!" I was petrified, and my family stops as well looking at me. My sister-in-law being the first to speak says, "What are you doing standing here' Go sign-up, I know you're good enough." "I don't know," I replied, "this is different here, I have to be on point, no places for messing up." My brother wanted to see this so he pushed and sent me to the table to place my signature down on that piece of paper. I only see about seven rappers signed previously, and some were even from out of state, Portland, Oregon, to be exact. I try to stay cool as I wait patiently to see whom I would battle first, and if I would be one of the first emcees up. I was. I was shaking like I had Parkinson's disease as I was on stage but I tried to calm myself, and the time came for the flip of the coin, "heads," I reply. I lose and I already knew I was to go first; it was common sense to let the opponent go before you if you won the toss. "Okay Tony, handle yourself and do not stutter, speak clearly and do not choke!" They explain the rules first before the match-up begins: no cussing is number one, 45 second rounds, and there would only be one round battles unless the crowd was undecided, then another round would be judged by the crowd again to determine the winner. The beat plays and I begin to nod my head, this is how I catch the melody and focus on the rhythm so my rapping would flow like lava or as close to perfect as I could be. "And what!" were my last words and I couldn't believe my performance! It was horrible; they were _nursery or basic rhymes that did not leave a sting at all! I was certain I was going to be taken out by my competitor. He begins to go and I just take hit after hit and daggers after daggers but then it happens, my opponent slipped. He used bad language and he pulled away from the microphone. He knew he had lost already so he handed the microphone to the host of the show. There were "boos!" and the "come-on's!" from the crowd but the rules were set in stone and ironically he had no problem with it. The other "MC"_ shook my hand and left the stage. I won by default, but I felt relieved knowing that I was going to have a second chance at winning the whole competition. More battles would go on without me because it was a bracket system, and all I could do was listen. I try to focus on the opponent's style and rhyme just in case it was my turn to battle them. On stage I went again but I knew what type of emcee I would face, and in knowing that, deteriorated him like cookies in milk. His rhymes talked nothing but of killing, guns, and knives. This was a breeze, making him look like a fake was no problem for me; it was as easy as a bye in the NFL. On to round three I went. I didn't leave the stage, this was it. Final round and I could not believe that it was possible for me to win. This final round was not going to be easy because he knew of the battling tactics and made me sting like rubbing alcohol on an open wound. I win the coin toss and he goes first laying on his hits heavily. The crowd bursts into laughs and "Oh's!" as he shows once again why he made it this far, but I was not shaking anymore. Right as they stopped the music to hand me the mic I became a ragging bull. I begin to break everything he stood for like his crew that stood behind him in the distance to his teeth that needed more than just braces. I interacted with the crowd, stepped on him like he was no more than the dirt I walked upon, and yet the crowd didn't favor the winner. The chants were equally divided so now it was my turn to go first. Once again I _ripped him up or made him look plain stupid and when even his own crew could not hold back their laughter that is when he knew I would win. Elohiem was the emcee's name and he did something I never thought anyone battle emcee would do, he admitted defeat. I have him props and it hit me, I had won the battle! Yes! I was the "MC_" champ in Boise! But more news came from the intercom. "Now you must battle last year's champion!" said the host, and just stood in disbelief, but I knew I had to bring some more to the table. In reality this "champ" was not so good. He rapped way too fast for the crowd to hear him, and this is how I won. With the crowd's support from the previous battles I ate him up or degraded him like it was feeding time at the zoo. He didn't stand a chance and one round was all it took for me to push him out of the reigning spot. I did it, I could now claim to be battle emcee and could perform under pressure, I am King. As the day folded over we begin to walk back to the car I realize I was not ready to battle that day, but overcame that difficulty. The task was no where near easy and tested my skills as a free stylist. I did not know half the thing I said were possible to come out of my mouth, but they did and I came out from little old Twin Falls victorious. This battle was my rock and has not cracked yet. I definitely turned a new leaf after I won this battle and the pigments did nothing more than get richer, deepening the color. I was more than just an ordinary emcee now; I finally found my spot on top.