There aren’t many great English rappers and almost none who don’t take all their cues from American rappers.
That makes Professor Elemental somewhat unique. A british rapper who makes a point of his britishness and wears it like a badge of honor. Pip pip, Tallyho.
Lets put the politics to one side for a moment and just focus on what’s really important; Rap battles.
Time for Romney and Barack to square off in the field of lyrical combat to see who’s rhymes are tighter and who’s got the most swag.
Freddy Mercury Versus Frank Sinatra. Who will win? Place your bets now!
Personally I’m betting on Freddy. Don’t get me wrong, I like a bit of Frank every now and then, but he’s nowhere near as cool as Freddy.
Reggie Watts goes for an early hip-hop style with this spoof of the rap industry that’s just as good as any serious rap record.
Because who says rap music’s all about swearing, guns, jiggling butts and the objectification of women? This muthafunker that’s who. So f_ck some sh_t up and stack it on top of yo’ momma. Word to your lolz.
Ever wanted to know what a potato would sound like if it had a voice and decided to start emceeing? It would sound a little like MC Dave.
He’s spitting lyrics about all sorts of ill, mad decent craziness, like nitrous oxide, Cornettos, cognac, Blackberrys — nothing is out of reach of his lyrical skillz. Heavy bruv.
Bet you didn’t know that Charles II could rap? Well he can, and it’s his preferred musical genre to tell you about what he got up to during his reign.
He was the original gangster, he loved to party and he loved to show off his big bucks. And he loved his hos. Shizzles.
If you shop in Poundland, get your trainers from Sports direct, and consider finding 10p on the floor a great victory, then these guys are your champions. What with the world economy eating itself, we’re all going to be rapping with dem bludkis soon.
Don’t be ashamed that you shower in the rain, that the Tesco Value range is too pricey for you, these guys have got your back.
This crazy explorer left over from Britain’s colonial days when we’d bullwhip foreigners for their insolence and stride across strange lands to bring them the joys of scones, proper manners, and queuing, raps about the brown liquid that fuelled the empire: tea.
British people love a cup of tea, they love it more than their dear old mums, they love it so much while slaughtering savages in unholy lands they’d pause mid-battle to drain a brew.
