New York: City of Peeves #55

The Subway Rapper

Habitat: Subway trains, stations

rapper.jpgDescription: Okay, we get it. You know the words to every single rap song known to man. We’re impressed. But we’re also guessing that your memory skills could’ve been put to better use than recalling how many times in a row you drop the F-bomb and say the N-word. I can’t even recite a rap song with the words in front of me, so I suppose I should admire your ability to be such a cunning linguist (not a homophone of that phrase, which I’m sure you’ve rapped about many, many times).

You do not need to show off your skills in a public place. The only people who should be spouting off swears out loud on the subway should be those with serious mental problems, not those who are just crying for attention or a record deal. You seem to be pretty level-headed otherwise, yet you have no problem saying “slap that fucking ho” six times in two minutes in the presence of a four year-old child.

Also, you know how most rappers are tone-deaf and rely on sampling to fill in the melodic parts of their songs? Take a hint from them. The only thing worse than your rapping is your fruitless attempt to sing the chorus of the song you’re listening to.

Hey, who does this song?

Yeah? Let’s keep it that way.

Rating on the Peevery Scale:

peeve5.jpg

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6 Comments

Filed under City of Peeves

6 responses to “New York: City of Peeves #55

  1. Tell me they don’t all look like Whitey in the photo. Cuz that would be “fucking retarded” and not just “thoroughly infuriating.”

  2. Would you rather have the rappers, or people who think they can sing country?

    I’d take the rapper any day.

  3. im gonna rap to you today :)

  4. Agreed, it’s annoying, but not as bad as those people who sign religious hymns on the subway, I just can’t imagine finding salvation on the 6 train.

  5. Pingback: Metadish, Fresh from NYC » Liberty Links: Happy Birfday America!

  6. i’m torn between the rappers, the wanna be rappers, and the ones who walk through the train yelling, “I AM ILL, AND I CANNOT GET HELP BEYOND MY SECTION 8 APARTMENT AND MY FOODSTAMPS. I LOVE GOD AND GOD WILL LOVE YOU IF YOU HELP ME OUT”

    no, help yourself, jack.

    and not by shoving a cup under my nose.

    i’m busy listening to the rap music blaring from 47 ipods on the f’ing 4 car i’m sitting in.

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