Author's Note
Swag.
The Rap God.
Eminem woke up with a start as the chilly winter gale entered his home. He had been up all night, working on a new collaborative rap song with lyrical genius and flow-worthy rapper Lil Wayne. It wasn't easy to fall asleep in the chilly weather of Detroit, and it was even harder to do so when song lyrics aimed at dissing various celebrities and Kendrick Lamar specifically were flying around in his head. He got up from his large bed, warm from only his ass since it was a long time since Kim Mathers was in the same house as his, let alone the same bed. He stared out of his window to the cars and motorcycles blackening the streets of Detroit with their tyre tracks.
It wasn't easy being on top of the rap game. He had to come up with new material all of the time, and he had to down vote the wannabe black rappers who tried to get onto his level. Also, there was the problem of the emergence of Macklemore. Eminem's fists clenched. Macklemore was a thorn in his side. Not only was he some nobody that was escalated to fame through one viral hit, a song with a 'fun' concept of thrift shopping (which wasn't really popular because of Macklemore but more because of the black vocalist), he released a cancerous song, something called Gay Love. If this gay rights movement were to pass, Eminem's over-heterosexual gay insults would be dampened in effect, and his favourite diss word, 'faggot', wouldn't carry as much of an effect. Towards public opinion that Macklemore was 'the new kid on the block destined to emerge onto the top of the rap game' or 'Eminem's successor', Eminem knew that such opinion was irrelevant; after all, he came to his pedestal through the hard way. As Eminem stared onto the streets, his eyes widened as he spotted a dark figure, obviously black, running towards his apartment.
As he observed the figure climb up the side of the apartment, Eminem started getting a little panicked at the dark man's skill in climbing and got behind his bed, pulling out a .38 caliber pistol, bracing himself for the attacker. Eminem heard one of his windows shatter, and he fired a warning shot vertically up at the ceiling. Unfortunately, his bullet hit a titanium reinforced chandelier, ricocheting off and hitting the intruder. The dark man cried out in pain, collapsing on the floor. Eminem's eyes widened, then he climbed over his bed to see who was the intruder.
"Shit... I can't do this shit again..." gasped Tupac Shakur as he panted heavily, the bullet having hit him on the chest. Eminem couldn't believe it. The rumours were true.
"You're not fucking dead!" cried Eminem in joy. Pac was looking much older, with his iconic facial hair looking a little greyer than normal, but he was still bald.
"Course I'm not, white boy, but I'll soon be," panted Tupac. Before Eminem could say anything more, Tupac grabbed Eminem by his collar and whispered words to him.
"I came here to tell yo ass this shit," breathed Tupac, but his breaths were becoming shallower by the second. "I've seen how far rap has descended. I'm fucking disappointed in yo white ass that you didn't do shit about that."
"B-but," started Eminem, but Tupac pulled Eminem in for a passionate tongue-involved kiss. Eminem somehow loved it.
"No homo," said Tupac. That justified absolutely everything. "But, you gotta do this shit, for me."
Tupac then pulled out a box.
"In this box right here, is a worm hole to this land called Equestria. I learnt about love and tolerance and all that shit right over there, but it was harder than surviving in the streets since there were so many faggots. It's madness to live there for a few days even," said Tupac, his voice quieting down. Eminem hung on to every word he said.
"I need yo ass to round up all of the rappers in the mainstream, all the niggas, and throw them into Equestria. Only there, will they learn true suffering," said Tupac. Just then, Tupac's chest heaved for the final time, and he died for good. His body suddenly disintegrated into a billion grains of sand, which slipped through Eminem's fingers and spiralled away into the wind, lost in the cold detroit breeze. Eminem had a lost expression on his face, but that was only ephemeral; his look quickly turned to determination as he remembered Shakur's words.
Eminem made his way into his daughter's room, since he was going to embark on a potentially life-threatening mission that was breaking more laws than Tupac had broke in his life. His hot teenage daughter was asleep in her bed, looking like an angel. In a recent survey at her school, 70% of guys surveyed wanted to bone Hailie Mathers while the other 30% were liars. Eminem kissed Hailie on her forehead, then headed out of the door, preparing for the greatest rap smack down in human history.
Celestia sensed a disturbance in the fabric of the universe, and woke up suddenly. She placed a hoof towards her forehead, trying to mitigate the throbbing headache she was having. She sighed deeply and walked out to her balcony, closing her eyes and enjoying the lovely scent of Luna's night. Suddenly, a stream of sand grains pelted her face, and she shook her head vigorously.
"What... Just happened?" she asked to no-one in particular. The sand grains wafted through the air, floating until they were above the Everfree forest, then falling below.
The cameras were snapping deafeningly as Drake made his way to the podium, after being announced as the century's best rapper by Nickelodeon. The chains around his neck swung like heavy pendulums, but it was essential to wear them as they were reminders to himself of his success. With Young Money, Drake had rocketed to all new heights, accumulating records, bitches and money over the years. The cacophony of cheers that accompanied his appearance drowned out the snapping of the cameras, and approximately 41 out of every 89 women in the crowd went topless for Drake. Drake smirked, an inspirational Drake quote™ about relationships coming to his mind. He made a mental note for his personal cameraman to take one for his Twitter, Instagram and Myspace. Drake tapped the head of the microphone on the podium, sending feedback through the speakers and silencing the crowds.
"Yeeeeeeee," drawled Drake constipatedly, emulating the poetic speech opener that his mentor Lil Wayne did all of the time. The crowd, comprised mostly of 13-year old boys, teenage girls from ages 14 to 19, and cougars looking for a good time roared as Drake started to speak. He gave a cocky smirk, causing the cougars to rub themselves uncontrollably while the little boys bit their lips as they got aroused as well.
"Listen, niggas," announced Drake, silencing everybody. "I wanna dedicate this..."
Drake held up a trophy, which was a golden mic. It meant that he was the best emcee ever, and Drake basked in the wild applause that followed. He held up a hand and soon, everybody was silenced yet again.
"As I was sayin'. I wanna dedicate this shit to my parents, specially my mother, she pulled through for me tho' we argued every month, nigga," he said, clapping his hands. Everybody in the audience followed suite.
"As all ya'll know from Started From the Bottom, I went through tough times, tougher times than Tupac and Biggie Smalls' lives. I had to get a job at a grocery store while rappers of old sold cocaine and weed and got a fortune from that shit. I had to struggle with playing a wheelchair-bound nigga who got shot on screen while the rappers of old really did literally get shot in real life," said Drake. Many tears of sympathy were shed for Drake.
"I couldn't get through this if not for my mentor, who's probably here tonight, in the reserved seat that I made specially for him in the front row, for the measly cost of 7,000 grand. Errybody, give a hand for Lil Wayne!" cried Drake, clapping his hands as he did so. The hall was filled with applause as the spotlight shifted to the 24-karat diamond-encrusted VIP seat that was Lil Wayne's. One problem though.
"Where is he?" was the common sentiment expressed through the crowd as the seat was revealed to be empty, along with a sign that said 'Went Out to Get Bitches'. Drake was so distraught. The murmurs of shock that rippled through the crowd was construed as laughter in Drake's troubled mind, mocking him. Drake couldn't take it anymore and passed out on the spot.
"Ur..." groaned Drake as the lights above him intensified in brightness. He was on a bed, probably in a hospital somewhere to hospitalise him after his collapse. He blinked as his gaze was met by Lil Wayne and Nicki Minaj's tits. His countenance broke in glee as he held out a fist to his homies. However, their expressions were serious (as far as he could tell from their sunglasses-clad faces), so his hand starting going slowly down, back to his side.
"No, Drake. No more Young Money Super Friends Forever Fist Bump," said Lil Wayne seriously. Drake was tearing a little, and Nicki Minaj was being a stupid hoe.
"Listen, my nigga. Wait, I can't call you that... I'll call ya dude, or something. Yeah, dude," said Lil Wayne, looking a little embarrassed. Drake hung onto every word Wayne had to say.
"Dude, I can't do this shit anymore, mayne. You gotta realise ya ain't a nigga, you whiter than Nicki's face after her one-nighter wit' Quentin Tarantino the night before," said Lil Wayne. Drake's mouth hung open in shock.
"Plus, you Jew. Reason why you joined Young Money in the first place, cuz' you like anything money-related. Plus you from Canada, and you got huge ass eyebrows. Dem eyebrows were trendy back in never, so you've never been useful in Young Money," said Lil Wayne. Drake's eyes filled with tears, while Nicki's ass and titties filled up with silicon.
"I did everything for you, nigga," said Drake.
"You can't say the N-word, dude," replied Lil Wayne.
"I-I can't..." said Drake, and he passed out.
50-cent looked over to his prostitute garden, savouring the sight of his bitches posing gracefully. The garden wasn't very expensive, but 50-cent had to care for his bitches with tender loving care which meant that he gave them colourful mushrooms to eat from the garden. Those mushrooms didn't seem very harmful to him and they were pretty big plus they were a part of his childhood since Mario loved eating mushrooms so why not. He had to clean up his bitches after they died from mysterious causes, and this happened on an hourly basis. He loved being rich. Just then, he got a phone call, and the caller was Eminem.
"Yo, Fiddy," came the voice over the phone. "I need you to come to 8 Mile."
Fifty immediately replied with a 'thwag' and proceeded to pump up his Lambo, which didn't run on fuel but instead was carried on the shoulders of his bitches.
8-Mile. The one place where Eminem battled three black rappers, and won all of them through sheer determination and freestyle genius. Eminem never smiled, so he gave something halfway between a smile and a frown but was not quite a smile. He was going to anally rape the cancer that was known as the mainstream black rapper community, at the area where the mainstream black rapper community first violated his butt cheeks. The previous line is obviously metaphorical.
Eminem made his way up the steps to the rapping stage. He glanced over to the DJ's table, where Boy Future would be MCing through all of the rap battles, giving an 'OHHH' or a 'DAYUM' or a 'HE'S CHOKING'. Many memories...
Suddenly the doors burst open and black rappers aplenty filed into the audience section of the complex. Eminem could see many familiar faces, some of whom he had worked with, some he had dissed. He saw Dr. Dre, Ja Rule and 50-cent. He even saw Lil Wayne, who was chatting with Nicki Minaj. Almost immediately, the rappers starting quarrelling and having feuds and dissing each other on the spot because that's what niggas do, black males naturally hate each other and putting them in one room was recipe for disaster. Some even pulled out glocks and threatened each other at point blank. Eminem tapped the mic but nobody listened.
"HEY! I FUCKED YO BITCH!" cried Eminem. They still didn't respond. Some gunshots were made, and Eminem was growing impatient.
"HEY! I GOT YOUR KFC!" tried Eminem. At this, all of the niggas turned their heads, their noses perking up like a male rabbit in the vicinity of a female in heat. Eminem raised a KFC bucket above his head, and the niggas grew wild. They were reduced to World War Z-esque zombies, who climbed up to the rapping stage, creating a nigga pyramid though the stage was only about 3 meters tall.
"Long Live Tupac," whispered Eminem as he dunked the KFC bucket on the heads of all of the niggas. Turns out, the KFC bucket was a very clever disguise for the box that Tupac gave him that contained a wormhole, so all of the Rappers were sucked out of this dimension (except for Eminem, of course).
Eminem panted as the last nigga was teleported away. He brushed his hoodie and walked away, feeling confident, before realising that he didn't teleport Macklemore away. He pointed a middle finger to the sky and cursed his bad luck, since the sky could do little to the middle finger.
"No!" cried Celestia as she sat up straight on her bed in the middle of the night. She was suffering a large migraine. It felt like something was tearing the very fabric of the universe. No, there were several things. It was so urgent that she immediately strode gracefully over to her balcony to investigate. She tapped Luna on the shoulder, who was also out on the balcony, but Luna wasn't surprised either; she had felt the disturbance too. The two sisters flew out into the night sky, and were quick to find the source.
"I can't see it, sister, but I can feel it," said Luna as she observed a darkened patch of sky, even darker than the surrounding twilight. Celestia squinted. It was darker because...
"The things in that patch are... black!" cried out Celestia as the stream of niggas fell from the sky. They were shouting words of "SHIT NIGGA" and "FUCK IT #YOLO" as they tumbled through the sky. Celestia flew down to save them, and this decision was to be the worse that she'd ever made.
After getting released from the hospital, Drake trudged the streets in depression, his hoodie clinging to him as rain came down in rivulets, since it always rains when the protagonist gets sad. He was reflecting on what Wayne and Minaj told him, and was saddened to the point that he was making his way to the synagogue where he had his bar mitzvah. Looks like it was the end of his rap career; He had even tweeted: "I'm done wit da rap game, Imma be a jew". He was thoroughly disappointed that it only got 800,000 retweets in an hour. Drake found the entrance of the synagogue to be warm and inviting, candles in all corners of the hollow green domed building. On one of the walls there was a sign that said: Welcome to the Anti-est Hitler Club. There was an elderly, wrinkled and spindly rabbi here as the only living soul around, sweat pouring down his face as he swept the floors of the synagogue.
"Hey, Drake!" cried the rabbi, knowing Drake. The rabbi's name was Father Anti-Holocaust and he was the kindliest soul in Drake's life. "Get your Canadian jew ass down here and put on your fez. We need a talk on why you left jewism."
Drake slid his hoodie off, and nearly cried as the last evidence of his previous life as a rapper fell to the ground with a heavy thud. He grabbed a fez from a counter and walked to where the rabbi was.
"Listen, little shit," said the rabbi as he took a huge shit as he sat, stinking up the room with old people poop. "I shot your mother in bed three times as we sixty-nined throughout the entire ordeal, you know what the deal is, I get tons of bitches, I have you as my witness and right here, I've done my business."
The rabbi pointed to his pile of crap. Drake sighed as he pinched his nose.
"How's that for a rap? BITCH!" cried the rabbi as he brought a wrinkled hand to Drake's cheek, slapping him. Drake couldn't feel anything because he was too saddened by the loss of his rap career. Just then, a broken down radio in the corner of the room suddenly turned on and a news broadcast was made.
"In recent news, hip-hop giants Snoop Dogg, Doctor Dre, 2 Chainz among many other African American rappers have mysteriously disappeared. The cause of such a tragedy is uncertain as of now, and there are absolutely no clues telling how this could have happened."
Drake leaned in and turned the volume up. The rabbi had seemed to shut his trap, listening intently to the radio broadcast while squelching around in his own crap.
"We've invited other hip-hop artists in the studio to voice their opinions on this. Macklemore, if you will?
"Certainly, Tim. I got nothing to do with this stuff, I mean, why the heck would I? I'm at the top of the rap game, so there's no reason to banish my enemies to some faraway land of ponies.
"What now?
"I mean, same love, TIm. Same love.
"So are you happy that you didn't fall victim to this 'rap wormhole' people have been theorising about?
"Why would I be caught? I'm too gay even for ponies.
"Sorry?
"I mean, with only me around to change the rap game, I think that it's fair to say that rap will become something family friendly, and not about the streets and other unrealistic bull like that. Like, less cursing in society due to my records. And maybe the conditioning of everyone to become a total softie and follow the true religion, Macklemorism.
"Alright, folks! That's all from Macklemore. We'll be back with an exclusive interview from Eminem instead, in a few moments."
Drake frowned. That was something new. He'd never heard of Macklemore in his life, though wormholes were a common occurrence in rap. However, he was determined to save his black comrades from whatever dimension they were in, so he stood up and threw his fez to the floor. The rabbi stood up too, making his crap slide down his legs and onto the floor.
"Where do ya think you're going, you communist?" cried the rabbi as Drake picked up his hoodie, ready to go back into the pouring rain outside.
"I'm holding on, I'm going home," said Drake with confidence as he set out to gain his black brothers' confidence. He flipped out his phone and made a tweet about it, which said :"Back in the game, niggas! Love me" and smiled as he got 2,000,000 retweets in 8 minutes.
Celestia was distraught. Within just a few moments of the new sapient species' entry into Equestria, they started promoting something called 'swag culture', made the ponies, HER ponies, wear saggy pants and carry iPhones. Also, they brought back the Unicorn Earth Pegasus pony war, with general Wayne on the unicorn side, Admiral Wiz Khalifa and Captain Snoop Dogg on the Pegasus side, and Supreme Nigga Rick Ross on the Earth side. Celestia couldn't stop the wars and the killings, which were proceeding much faster with the introduction of new weapons called 'Glocks' that could kill from a distance. She sighed as she looked on to the field of war, ponies clutching glocks and shooting each other and tea bagging the corpses of the dead.
She breathed out deeply, then flew down to give an announcement to the new race, called 'niggas'. She boomed in her Royal Canterlot Voice.
"HEAR ME," cried Celestia, and the niggas looked at her. "I WISH TO KNOW HOW TO RESOLVE THIS CONFLICT AND ALLOW HARMONY FOR ALL."
"SHIT NIGGA!" cried Rick Ross. "She screaming harder than Wayne's mama last night."
"You take dat shit back mayne!" cried Wayne as he reached for his Glock.
"NO!" exclaimed Princess Celestia as her telekinesis crushed the Glock. Wayne looked at it in disbelief before he called to his unicorn troops.
"Bitch is illuminati! Kill dat bitch!" ordered Wayne. All of the ponies pointed their guns at Celestia and started shooting; however, Celestia made a shield to block out the bullets, which bounced off harmlessly.
"I WAZ WRONG, NIGGA," said Wayne in fear. "SHE WHITER THAN DA KKK! RUN, MAH BITCHES"
"No!" said Celestia as her telekinesis picked Wayne up. She also dragged the newly-appointed nigga leaders of the various races with her yellow magic to where she was, dragging to her side Wiz Khalifa, Snoop Dogg and Rick Ross.
"Listen, you four," said Celestia. "I need you to come up with a solution to ensure peace and harmony for all, and I mean it. I can very easily punt everyone of you 'niggas' to the moon. Make your decision quick, I do not want to resort to violent means."
"WE WANNA FUQ U!" cried the four niggas at once. Celestia was a big booty hoe and she was white, so why the fuck not? Celestia groaned as they dragged her to a huge tent and started unbuckling their pants. For my ponies, she thought.
Drake was driving to Eight Mile. After finding 50 cent's phone at his mansion and scrolling through the messages, he found out that Eminem was the one who was behind the disappearances. He reached Eight Mile in a stolen Sedan and went inside, to find Eminem just... sitting there.
"I did it," said Eminem, a KFC chicken bucket beside him. "I banished the rappers to somewhere beyond. I did it, but... why the fuck do I feel so empty inside?"
"It's... it's nothing mayne," said Drake as he sat down and draped an arm around Eminem. Eminem swatted it away and looked at Drake in anger, before hopping to his feet and picking up the mic.
Eminem started rapping.
Yo who's this whack ass and why's he here
See how you finish last in life but first in your career
Higher than Snoop and Khalifa combined
Whiter than pure methamphetamine
Just about as fucked up as the users too
Before you came to Eight Mile, didn't you think of bringing a crew?
That's right bitch, I sent them away
Now I'm rapping against a faggot ass gay
Bitch, to me, you're a ruffian
I've got American flair, you're Canadian
I think you need to take a rest
Sit down, take a drink.
"Wear your fez," finished Eminem, his flow impeccable. Drake was lost for words; he didn't know how to return that. Just then, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis came into the room, and both were wielding ak-47s. They tried an intimidation tactic that involved shooting the ceiling but Eminem didn't do anything. Drake, however, screamed.
"Aight," said Macklemore, a smug smile on his face as he approached Eminem. Ryan Lewis was his hunchback servant, trudging closely behind him as Macklemore gave a cliched villain laugh.
"Bitch," spat Eminem in Macklemore's face.
"Female Dog," replied Macklemore, then grinning widely as if that comeback actually made sense.
"I'd wipe the floor with your faggot ass," growled Eminem, one hand on his handgun. He was going to pay back for all of the love and tolerance that he was spreading through his rap.
"Don't you understand?" said Macklemore condescendingly and chuckled afterwards. "I staged everything."
"OMG SWAG," said Drake, and everyone looked at him. "What? I was just looking at how many retweets your Twitter accounts don't get."
"Listen to me, Eminem!" cried Macklemore. "I wanted to be accepted into the rap game. The only way I could do that was to warp all of the mainstream rappers to Equestria, to take the same journey I had to become a force of love and tolerance. Only then... Only then could I make myself the king of rap."
"What?" said Eminem, his anger rising, though it didn't show.
"You heard me. Tupac meeting you? I set that shit up. I even made you kiss him on camera. You're an official faggot now, Em," said Macklemore as he held out a shot of Eminem doing work on Tupac. That was it; Eminem snapped and his arms flailed out to grab Macklemore. Despite being a grade-A faggot, Macklemore was younger and nimbler than Eminem and dodged his blows, and elbowed Eminem in the back, sending the older rapper to the floor. Eminem groaned in pain while Drake was at the sidelines, watching the entire scene unfold without helping any of them; after all, he was still a real nigga. Or was he? Macklemore aimed his AK at Eminem's foot and sent off a shot, making blood splatter from Eminem's foot. Eminem cried out in pain as Macklemore laughed hysterically, while Drake cowered in a corner.
"You were always under me, Eminem. You'll always be, and you'll never be as good as my love and tolerance," said Macklemore as he aimed his AK at Eminem's head. "It's how the rap game goes. Only the white can slay the white. The black should slay the black..."
"Look here, bitch!" cried Drake in the split second before Macklemore pulled the trigger. Drake had the KFC bucket (i.e. the portal to Equestria) in one hand and an actual KFC fried drumstick in his other hand. Macklemore tilted his head in confusion.
"Oh yes, Drake. I never heard of you. Even smaller than Eminem, by leagues, and by effect, you're smaller than me by leagues of leagues," teased Macklemore. Drake ignored that. He had to save his black friends, but most of all, he had to save the tough, manly body that was rap.
"How'd you bring all the nigga boys to the yard?" yelled Drake. His heart was pumping hard, this shit had to work.
"Milk... shakes?" said Macklemore uncertainly. "Well, it doesn't matter, after I'm done with Em, I'm gonna move onto you, an--"
"Wrong answer."
Drake lunged at Macklemore, loosening his grip on the AK and stuffed the KFC chicken drumstick up his mouth. The hunchback of the instrumental, Ryan Lewis, tried to help, but Drake kicked him in the noggin, causing him to fall back on his hunched back. Drake turned the KFC bucket inside out, holding it over Macklemore's face.
Suddenly, all of the niggas in Equestria felt a force tugging on their very being. All of them rose up into the sky, with the same shouts of 'YOLO MONEY SWAG MONEY' and things of that ilk resounding through the hills of Equestria. It was beautiful, like a migration. Celestia moved out of her tent, seeing her sex partners move further and further away from her. She waved at them in the sky.
"Call me," she whispered to Rick Ross and Lil Wayne. She had never had better sex in her life, and it even ensured the preservation of harmony in this tumultuous period.
"How the hay are we gonna clean this up?" asked Luna, as she walked through the valley of leftover Glocks and money.
"Yolo," Celestia said back.
All at once, all of the niggas fell onto Macklemore, and they ate him. Well, they tried going for the chicken drumstick, but Macklemore was in the way. After all was done, there was an injured Eminem, a room full of black people, the hunchback of the studio, and Macklemore's bones, picked clean. Drake shook his head vigorously as he found his way out of the black people pile and onto the stage. Once there, he received roaring applause for being the one to bring them back to Earth.
"Wha..." said Drake as all of the niggas cheered him. Lil Wayne climbed up onto the stage and raised a hand.
"Young Money Super Friends Forever Fist Bump?" said Lil Wayne, holding his fist up. Drake smiled and commenced with the fist bump with great gusto. Everyone cheered, even Nicki Minaj whose breasts were bouncing.
"I'd like to say," said Drake, "that though you niggas just committed cannibalism not 2 minutes ago, you're taking that shit very well."
"Shit wasn't cannibalism, he white," said Fiddy Cent, and everyone nodded in agreement.
"Moral of the story," said Drake, "Never leave home without fried chicken."
Eminem was supported by Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg as they dragged him out to see the hospital. Drake caught Eminem looking at him, and he gave a thumbs up.
Not much to say here, really. Drake was obviously accepted into Young Money as a grade-A nigga, and Eminem recuperated, to be home with his hot-ass daughter. Oh yeah, and Celestia never screwed another stallion in her life and only got wet at photos of either Lil Wayne, Rick Ross, Snoop Dogg or Wiz Khalifa.
