I can't help thinking that if all world conflicts were resolved by rap battle, the US would be even more belligerent. What? You thought the East Coast versus West Coast divide was bad? Marijuana as export-controlled munitions? Colonel D-o-double-g and General Dre?
This is a little far off-topic from arctic suicides, but I just can't resist.
Bush I: Oh, hello, Sad-um, I didn't see you sitting there. / But isn't this where / Kuwait used to be? I can see, maybe, / you got a little lost on your way to the market, / but driving 'round a tank, there's just never anywhere to park it / is there? / I'm a'let you finish, 'fore your mic starts gettin' mossy, / Just wait a couple minutes as I introduce my posse. / Hit it, Jaber.
Jaber III: Howdy, neighbor. Sure is good to see ya visit. / Err'body 'round here know you just a whiz at / throwing a party, / but ain't nobody like the guy that's fartin' / in the punch bowl.... / Hang on, slow down, I think I'm feelin' dizzy. / Gotta pass my mic to MC Saad, up in this hizzy.
Saad: Saddam, my man. Together on the stage at last. / Allow me to express my rage at the actions of your dumb ass. / This is my house, and you disrespectin' me? / Time to take your friends and make your exit, please. / Git gone, sucka.
Hussein: Y'all betta chill 'fore this come to a boil. / I'm only here 'cause I'm followin' my oil. / You don't think I saw your drilling rigs take / they straws out to drink my effin' milkshake? / You drink it right up. / And I'm a'gonna light up / your ears, with my rap of justice / as we discuss this / slant drillin' across my border. / You gonna need to order / a giant check, and put my name / on it, and there betta be the same / number of zeroes that I'm expectin'. / Cuz I don't need a phone to call on you, collectin'.
