So here we have it.
These two giants of the rapping world have been teasing this for the last couple of weeks and the hype has reached unobtainable levels. Ian “Flashback” McBugle and Sheriff Rockingham aka Chris Marshall, both ex members of pioneering genre-bending super group ‘The Rapples’, are gearing up for what is expected to be THE rap battle of the week, maybe even the day.
If you’ve been monitoring their comments you’ll know the frenzy that surrounds this encounter. Tickets have been sold out for ages but you lucky, lucky people get to hear the whole thing as it happens right here on Beans FM.
Both competitors are still at the top of their. Sheriff Rockingham has been flexing his vocal muscles on a recent jaunt abroad, amazing the locals with his keen observations and spilt-second timing. Flashback, however, has been trawling the mean streets of the North East, picking lyrical fights with pensioners trying to buy stamps at the post office.
Take a seat, ladies and gentlemen, this is going to be a bumpy ride. Over to you, boys…
12 comments on “Chris and Ian’s Rap Battle”
OK, drop a beat and let me get down
This mother Flashback is in Rockingham town
Calling me names all in my face
Gonna launch his ass to outer space
His rhymes are wack his words in a tizzle
Can’t hold no beat can’t stand this shizzle
He’s gonna hit the floor when he hear me shout
Cos he ain’t no rapper, Sheriff Rockingham out
You’re crazy, you’re stupid, you’ve been on the sauce
You’re like a Jedi who’s missing the force
Your rapping is off like week old beef
Struggling to get up like Omar Sharif
If you were a biscuit you’d be a rich tea
Bland and faceless, and lacking in glee
So go dunk yourself, fool, get outta my pool
We all know who’s won this rapping duel.
I like that I’ve not even been included in this one, so you cant sulk at me for not commenting. However, I have commented, right in the middle of your ‘rap battle’ so bitch at me for that instead!
(Kev, if you’re going to chip in you need to do it to the beat.)
Crazy? No. Not stupid, yo. You got the wrong idea
I’m the rapping king, my rapping ting is on a higher tier
My lines are neat, my flow is sweet, my lyrics are the wack
When I am through your Flashback crew lie bottom of the stack
These rapping skills fill up the tills, they’re paying for my mansion
A double rhyme on every line, so epic is my scansion
You complicate your inner state so I’ll break it into granules:
You’re just McGee, why can’t you see, the Debbie to my Daniels.
I need to do what? Beat something? Like a drum?
(Old Man Kevvers may need to sit this one out)
I’m Launchpad McQuack, pancakes in a full stack,
Prepping my chickencopter for the nuclear attack.
Coming back, tit for tat, making up for what you lack,
Burning up yo pasty grill with a cup of hot mack.
I’ll be with the crew, sipping brew by the heaters
While you’ll be licking ice to entice Andi Peters.
I’m the breakfast slot, so in tune with my gift,
And you can park your ‘barrow in the graveyard shift.
Watch your Chickencopter, it’s Tigerplane time
I’m up in your grill with the sickest of rhyme
Pumping the beats, I’m filling the floor
The guys gettin’ down and the ladies want more
I’m burning you up like nuclear fission
I took out my key, stuck it in your ignition
No more to say, this rap battle’s won
I’m to-to-ro, Sheriff Rockingham done.
I should have dropped the mic at the end of that, so it was cool.
Wait. I’ll do it now.
Pick it up, Skip, it’s time for a trip,
Stick that microphone back in the palm of your mitt.
You ain’t won nothing yet, backs of yo ears still wet,
You’re playing a man’s game and losing the bet.
The stage is my realm, I’m tip of the top,
Tipping my hat to the crowd like my man, Gary Wilmot.
Can you smell that stench? It’s yo ass on a bench,
Picking all the bad roles like a poor man’s Judi Dench.
This battle’s done, that’s Rockingham law
But the rap is still hap cos this fool wants more
Never known to retreat, doesn’t know when he’s beat
He thinks he’s on top but he’s at Sheriff’s feet
If the sucker won’t quit he’s gonna learn the hard way
How his rap is slack and he forgot about Dre
Yo, I’ll throw it back, let’s see his lame ass turn
The Sheriff’s on fire. What you feel is the burn
I be all up in the club like Wensleydale cheese,
I sat on a fence with my locks in the breeze.
I laugh at your efforts to come to my ‘main,
Delusional? Yes, you’ve got worms in yo’ brain.
I’ll crank up the heat, bam bam, trick or treat!
No more sweets for your beats only tepid little feats.
Hang your head in shame, catch the bus up to Filey,
I’m playing some word games with ma girl Rachel Riley.
Yo, people know that Ian’s flow is “just another one”
Give him his say, the Flashback way means this is never done
But keep your cool, Sheriff’s no fool, he’s got a smarter plan
For thirty days, naff all he says: it’s bare sick biding, man
While Flashback dreams of Riley scenes and comments other threads
I lay in wait until the date for messing up yo’ heads
Now I’m back, a stealth attack, Rockingham’s final word
I win the day, no more to say, no Flashback to be heard
The homies bowed, the ladies wowed, the Sheriff is no sinner
The crowd agree, no more to see. Yo, me? I am the winner.