[color=#FFFFFF]<span style="font-size:10pt;line-height:100%][color=#FFFFFF]Lower Manhattan the industrial zone. Rundown streets, decay, old vehicles and steam coming off vents and manholes. Coming from somewhere are the dirty muffled beats of 20th century "Rap" music. The source is a cosy little club called "Dat Beat". Every night people from all over Liberty gather up and battle...not just any battle- a rap battle
*A Navy officer walks on stage and picked ups the mic*
Ye'h, what's goin' down! I've heard some two bit wannabe is tryin' to look fly. He's called 50-Cred$ but imma make him looks like 20! Hey yo DJ hit this phoney busta' and let's see what he's made off
[color=#000000][font=Monotype Corsiva]A man stood up from seats at the back end of the room. His face was serious, almost like if he was going to beat that Navy boy up in front of everyone.
"Yo, you think you got what it takes, Westpoint Freshman?" the rapper shouted as he made his way to the stage.
"Ready to get to get beaten, Navy boy? I'll turn your Guardian ego back to a Defender one, you hear me?" the man roared while stepping up on the stage. "By the end of tonight, you'll learn to respect my name, 'cause I'm FIFTY CRED$! And all these mothercrackers here are going to see it! DJ, turn that beat up!"
[color=#000000][font=Monotype Corsiva]
Fifty raised up the microphone:
You call yourself Navynem
Boy, ain't you a pathetic man?
You come here, in "Dat Beat"
Asking to get your arse kicked
Making up rhymes about the "Thresher"
But a lil' Bloodhound makes you feel the pressure
The crowd here is applouding already
Stop shivering and get your rhymes ready
He looked at the Navy offer with a "You're going down" grin and lowered his mic.
[color=#FFFFFF][color=#FFFFFF]Yeah I'm shivering I'm shakin'
Cuz this dawg sure know what's bakin'
Boyo this is histroy in the makin'
A Rogue or a Hack' Gee boy cut me some slack
If you wanna catch me I must start running back
I'm adrenalin load to the left dawg to the right
I'm strafing like a Sabre I can go all night
I'm taking you to school here catch that rhyme
Where I'm standing you ain't Fifty you're a dime
All those people here see that you're phoney
Here's my number if need a rap lesson, call me
And then the crowd will go "My days he's bad"-BOO
Damn I can't rhyme that I must be turning into you
and when you're barking you sound like a cow -moo!
So fake even your parents think that too
Go back to the hole from which you came
you don't belong here these people think you're lame
and think about it again and again
maybe then your rap against me won't be in vain