Rap Battle Becomes Surprisingly Complimentary

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Rap battle inside a boxing arena. One contestant in the foreground looks out to the crowd.

LOS ANGELES – Fans of new freestyler in the Los Angeles area rap scene, Krakken, braced for a contentious bout as the newcomer took on seasoned rappers yesterday at an underground venue located in the sub-basement of a HogSmithe’s pork rendering plant. Many feared the rap battle would come to violence, as reigning champion Hustla & A Gentleman has never shied away from his contempt for Krakken and notably made an attempt on the young rapper’s life in a JC Penny parking ramp melee in May of last year (3 were shot, and 6 were stabbed as caught on shaky Youtube footage).  But fans were shocked when both rappers struck a very cordial tone atop a dope-ass baseline.

Hustla & A Gentleman both apologized and sang Krakken’s praises, using his freestyle volley to be the bigger man. He spat fresh rhymes, such as:

“Uh, uh, what; I’m muthaf*ckin’ guilty of that toxic masculinity/

I’m boutsta lob a sorry-bomb all up in your vicinity/

‘Cause a man’s gotta face when he’s made a mistake/

Gotta get humble, get my man a f*ckin’ handshake. (bygones!)”

Not to be outdone on the mic, Krakken responded with similar contriteness. All in all, he showed the seasoned Hustla that he too was remorseful of his actions:

“Sorry Mister Hustla, never meant to give you grief/

I released the Krakken when I shoulda held the beef/

A rapper of your stature needs a compliment’n I’ll pay it/

I’ll tell a man he’s beautiful/I ain’t ashamed to say it. (WHUT)”

Not sure how to react, fans of each contender could be seen stowing their knives, guns and brass knuckles. Most listeners stood down from what promised to be a very tense battle. Krakken and Hustla were not content to end things on stage, however; in a later lyric Krakken invited Hustla back to his home for a relaxing afternoon:

“Hold up son, we gotta schedule us a chill day/

I’ll make some f*ckin’ tea if you’re free next Wednesday/

Oolong suckas, I got that chai spice/

And my b*tch’ll make us f*ckin’ macarons if we’re nice. (Uh.)”

At the battle’s conclusion, no winners were announced, but this didn’t seem to bother the gathered crowds who dispersed with no signs of violence or animosity. Most attendees, still filled with adrenaline and testosterone, adjourned to bet on a local dog fight.