Rise of a Philly

by DerpyStarlet

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Original Character, Sex
Length: 3929

This is the tale of a Philly. With a PH. Might as well be a Phd, in rap. A lyrical genius, if there ever was one. Starswirl may have made rap, but this Stallion perfected it.

This is the tale of a Philly. With a PH. Might as well be a Phd, in rap. A lyrical genius, if there ever was one. Starswirl may have made rap, but this Stallion perfected it. From a colt trying to make a name for himself to a Stallion beloved by all... everyone does love him, right?

(based on a real brony rapper: Little Philly)
remember the name.

Most of the lyrics/rhymes will be his, so go check him out. This story is dedicated to him after all. Go give him some love.

Published 2015-04-18 16:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-07-22 03:08:17 UTC

Little Philly?

I grunt as a pony in the crowd jostles me. I glare at him, but I doubt he notices. I just brush it off and continue to make my way to the front of the crowd. It's slow going, but my will is strong. I didn't sneak out just to stand at the back end of a room, hoping to maybe hear a rhyme or two. I'm so glad that even though the entrance is guarded, they were rather lax about letting me in. My brother was a big help in that, just had to agree to look after me. Of course, he's not my real brother. Just a friend, and occasionally the awesomest babysitter ever.

I do respect him, but I still took my first chance I could find to make a break for the stage. I don't need him looking over me all the time, I'm old enough to look after myself! I mean, I don't have my cutie mark yet, but that's hardly an indicator of anything. Besides, I reckon it'll be in something awesome, like my bro slash. He's a DJ, that's why they're so cool about letting me in here. He has gigs here sometimes. It's also the reason I'm here.

See, this isn't exactly the most legal hangout... I may have insinuated something along the lines of blackmail. It went along the lines of "take me to one of your gigs or I'll tell," ... er, more or less. There was a little bit of resistance, and a lot of rules... a couple I think I'm breaking. Oh well, it's worth it, his place is awesome! I mean, it smells, and half these ponies either disgust me or appeal to my pubescent mind in impure ways, but it's awesome.

I finally make it to the stage and prop my front hooves on it, looking at the two ponies on it in awe. Slash's gig isn't for a while so I can admire some of the other artists here. I notice the ponies lack instruments, their only holding mics. Are they acapella singers? beat boxers?

"And here we have Mic the Microphone!" A grayish stallion with a brown mane raises his hoof. His brown mane has a bright red side, it's the same color as the magic holding up his microphone. "And Chyllin Flows!" The other pony is a pegasus, but with a blue coat and steel grey mane. A single blue streak off the corners, outlining his hair. Also holding a microphone. As the two start it immediately becomes obvious to me what's happening, they're having a rap battle. I listen, but not too intently.

Maybe to another colt their language might be horrifying and foul, but that's the language I grew up around. I listen, commending the two rappers for their skill silently. I wish I had a talent, especially a musical talent. Before long their session is done and the stage is clear, I stomp on the stage as the rest of the crowd cheers.

"Any rappers here that want to display their skills?" The announcer asks, I'm about to turn to look back into the crowd when I'm pushed forcefully onto the stage.  I get up and become aware of a large amount of attention. I turn to find the announcer looking at me in amusement. "A kid huh? Get lost?" He asks, I freeze up as I try to think of a way to play it off.

"No..." I reply lamely.

"So then, you want to show off your stuff?" He asks.

"Look at him, he's so little. Like a filly." somepony nearby snickers.

"He doesn't even have a cutie mark," somepony else says. I slowly back away from the stallion offering the microphone.

"Nah, nah, I'm good bro," I laugh softly.

"Hah, backed down just like a filly too," I hear somepony say. I try to ignore it.

"Just get off the stage, little filly!" Somepony from the crowd calls out. My ears swivel, but I don't turn my head. I'm imagining how somepony would breathe if their head were shoved up its own ass. That same stubborn defiance and recklessness that made me come here, manages to rise again and makes me stop backing away and take a leery step forward.

"That's the spirit, just spit a couple rhymes kid. They don't gotta be quick or clever, heck, at your age mine hardly made sense." He says, tossing me the mic. I catch it, but it fumbles in my trembling in my hooves. Why did I do this?

"Dude, you can't seriously be thinking about letting this talentless kid embarrass himself up there." At that comment my head snaps to find who said it, I narrow my eyes.

"Yeah," he raises his voice to address me, "so kid, you got a stage name?" He asks. I do now...

"Yeah, just call me Little Philly MC. That's Philly with a PH for all you dumbasses out there," I say, pointedly throwing a glare at the pony who kept throwing the snide comments.

"Kids got a mouth on him, and some flare. I like it." The announcer says.

"So then, filly. Let's hear some rap. Like he said, you don't gotta be fast." He snickers and my eyes widen. Why would I antagonize him? I don't even know how to rap. I catch Slash's eye and I can see him face hoofing repetitively. Our eyes meet and he seems to throw me a look that says I'll cry at your funeral. He knows I've committed social suicide, I know I've committed social suicide, and soon everypony else will know too. But, despite this, I have this overwhelming urge to prove them wrong. To prove that, despite all odds, I can rap. I hear a beat starting to play and verses seem to form themselves in my mind. I ignore all the distractions and focus on those verses.

"I'm only gonna do this once, so pay a-fucking-ttention." I say, then I dive in. "Rap fast? Fuck that, tongues fast. I don't wanna run fast, eat too much fast. Fun racks, smack that buttcrack, get my nutsack from bagged nut cracked. Just fat, much like munchlax. Slash that rugrat. Hit that cum fast, cunt slash, make that blood slash, fuck yeah. Fun had stuffed that fucking rucksack. Oh no you know you flow too slow, so home you go. Or so I'm told, too old, too bold to break the mold and show I'm undersold. Here I sit, a titan, fighting for my right to write and spit in spite of all the time I spit, getting high, and typing shit." My mouth is on autopilot by now, because theres no way I'm consciously doing this. I see Slash looking at me with his jaw agape, but it's not just slash. A good deal of the audience looks that way too.

"What I gotta do to get respect? Run into your bitch with my dick erect? Fuck comcast I switch direct cause my internet just won't connect. Oh no, I won't stop clopping. By the time my pants are dropping, cock is throbbing, think it's wrong and I'm just clopping. Pony cherry popping. Gentle, tender, bend in, mend her, freak defender, see the splendor, gender bender, first offender, won't surrender, vender, render. Animal, cannibal, call me hannibal, handily, mammal, edible, admittable, a difficult, minimal, genital, tentacle, cynical, syllable, so unkillable." I make sure to hold the mike close, but I motion with my other hand.

"I'm just spitting words that rhyme in some semblance of making sense, shaking fists not taking hits. Like busta rhymes, I'm breaking necks. Breaking fast because it's morning, killed this beat so be in mourning." I watch as the crowd slowly gets more into it, and as they knock themselves out of their stupor. I see a large flash, probably a camera! They want to take pictures! I pose as I continue to rap. The stallion from before is looking continually more irked by my performance, but I don't dare stop. As the words and rhymes flow I feel this strange sense of euphoria, like I'm at one with myself.

"Go by the name of Philly, dont be really silly. Hilly-billy quickly wrap that chilly willy when you're feeling pretty, filly." I watch as the crowd turns on the stallion who was giving me a hard time earlier, he turns around and leaves. I swell with satisfaction at that. Not only is rapping energizing, it's empowering.

"I'm just a lyricist, can't stop killing it. gone," I resist the urge to drop the mic as I pant from the exertion. "Haha!" I laugh a couple times before lifting the mic back up. "Oh... man, I don't want to hear none of you motherfuckers saying, that I'm not good enough!" I exclaim. I hand the announcer the mic and he smiles stupidly at me.

"Well, that's all the time we have for the rap sessions, but boy! What a way to end it. You could go far Little Philly, you might be on par with some of our older more experienced rappers!" He says, I just puff my chest out proudly and step off stage, Slash is walking towards it. He stops by me and I stop by him.

"I'm feeling a bit mixed on the situation currently, but you just got your cutie mark, so I'll be nice for now." He says.

"... wait, what?!" I glance back, and sure enough. There's a cutie mark on my flank. "Look, look, I got my cutie mark!" I whisper excitedly. Slash nods and motions for me to follow him to the stage so he can look after me.

"Yeah, but It's in rapping." He says, putting on his shades and handing me a pair. He looks over the top of the glasses and quirks an eyebrow.

"So? Rapping is fucking awesome!" I announce as he starts to set up for his gig.

"Well then, smart guy, what are you gonna tell your parents when you wake up with a cutiemark?" I pause at that and finally reflect on the situation a look of abject horror and then rage crosses my face.

"Buck!"

Trouble is a Friend

I yawn as I wipe sleep from my eyes. I'm so glad it's Sunday, it allows me to sleep in. And after an exciting night like that... well, let's just say I could use the rest. But, there's a fine line between rest and lethargy. One I'd rather not cross. Believe it or not, I Actually have stuff I want to do. Specifically, tell my friends about my cutie mark. Well, not the entire story... or, a true story. I mean, I like them and all, but they can't keep a secret worth shit. But I definitely want them to know as much as I'm comfortable telling. However, that requires me to get out of bed first.

Actually, that requires a couple of things. Only the first of which is getting out of bed. The second can be one of two things. Either I can make up a convincing story, or I try to hide it for now. I don't actually know how I'd make up a story for this. Hey mom, strangest thing happened while I was sleeping...

Well, looks like I'm hiding it. Follow up question. How? Who would have imagined that a cutie mark might be more trouble than it's worth? What to do... what to do... what to-

That might just work.

~~~~~~~

"Phillip?" I freeze at the sound of my mother's voice. Turning my head slowly, my face the epitome of innocence, I pray she doesn't suspect anything.

"Yeah, mom?" I ask, looking over her dishevelled mane. It looks like she woke up not that long ago, the coffee cup in her hoof only supports my hypothesis. There are bags under her eyes, she worked a long shift yesterday. And the day before... and before... I think this is her first day off in weeks. My thoughts turn away from my friend as I realize this, a frown plants itself on my face.

"What's with the jacket?" She asks, I rub my neck nervously.

"I was gonna go see my friend." I say, looking anywhere but my mom.

"Oh... I was kinda hoping we could do something together today..." mom says, sadness creeping into her voice.

"We can, I just have something I really need to talk to him about... school stuff..." I lie, not looking at her. I normally would love to hang out immediately, but I've got to have a convincing story. I feel really bad because I'm genuinely avoiding her right now... but I won't be long.

"Oh, Okay. I guess I'll just... Wait here." She says, slumping into her seat a little bit more.

"It shouldn't take any more than like... thirty minutes." I say. Not hearing an answer I dash out, I've got a time limit after all. I've got to make it up to her for bailing at the first possible chance, something special. I turn down my friends street and head directly to the front door. I knock somewhat hesitantly, I can hear rustling and hoofsteps approaching the door. The door opens, but it's not my friend. It's his brother.

"Uh, Hey. Is Flare there?" I ask, he snorts and motions his head backwards.

"In his room." He says, turning away from the door. I take that as an invitation in and shut the door behind me. I direct myself through the house and eventually arrive at Flares room. I don't bother knocking, I just walk in. I'm met with an... awkward sight.

"Um... is this a bad time?" I ask in confusion.

"Little! Thank Celestia you're here! Help a brother out?" He asks, I look at his entrapping in confusion.

"Yeah, sure. Just, Uh, how exactly did you manage this?" I ask, equal parts concerned and impressed. He's gotten himself tangled up in a bunch of ropes dangling from his ceiling, his body contorted in ways I didn't previously think were physically possible. Or, at the very least, they had to be uncomfortable.

"Well, you see, there's a perfectly good explanation." He says as I pull on a rope to free one of his wings. I Wait a while for him to continue, but he doesn't.

"Which is?" I ask.

"Gimme a sec, it'll come to me..." I roll my eyes and continue untangling. "I know it had something to do with my dancing... oh, yeah! It was an obstacle course of sorts. It was supposed to help my coordination. It didn't work." He responds finally.

"How long have you been stuck here?" I ask him, gripping another rope in my teeth, taking some fur with me.

"I don't know, I stopped counting after 30 minutes went by and the pony literally on the other side of the wall refused to rescue me!" There's no reply and Flare just sighs.

"So... some time now?" I ask, he just nods. I pull on one of the ropes and it snaps, lashing him in the face as it whips past.

"Ow." He says, rubbing his cheek in the spot he just got hit. "Thanks," he says, I'm snickering slightly over the rope.

"Hold on." I pull on a rope lightly, following it with my eyes. I snap it quickly and he falls to the floor.

"Ow..." he rubs his muzzle and I snicker. "Thanks." He says, pulling the remaining rope off himself.

"No prob. So, you were saying?" I tell him.

"Right, I wasn't very successful with the obstacle course. I mean, I've got a cutie mark in dancing, but I want to train my coordination so it's not dance exclusive." I nod in understanding.

"Speaking of cutie marks, check out this baby!" I spin my flank towards him and pull my hoodie up, he gasps.

"You got your cutie mark! It's a microphone, so... music?" Flare guesses enthusiastically.

"Not just any music! Rapping." I clarify, his smile drops a little.

"Of course it's rapping, why wouldn't it be..." he says, rolling his eyes. "I'm happy for you. Even if I'm not entirely sure I like your talent." He says.

"At least it ain't something gay, like dancing." I snort.

"Excuse you, I like dancing." Flare defends.

"I know. That's why it's gay." I clarify.

"So, just because I like colts, everything I do is also gay?" He asks.

"Not everything. Just your hobbies." I say.

"Fuck off," he says, pushing me.

"Gladly. It's mom's day off." I tell him, trotting towards the door.

"Then why are you here?" He asks.

"I wanted to tell you about my mark. And I needed a cover story. If Anypony asks, I just got it when I visited you." I tell him.

"Yeah, sure dude." He says.

"Sweet bro, Thanks." I head out and back to my house to finally tell my mom the news. I'm getting increasingly excited as I draw nearer till I see a group of colts about a year older than me. I would have ignored it if it weren't for the way they were standing. When you live around here awhile, you start to notice patterns in ponies. They look like they're surrounding a pony. I run over quietly, praying I'm wrong. That maybe, It's just a dead animal, or something similar. It's not. I was right.

In the center of this tight circle is a filly, about my age maybe. Scrawny little thing. I can understand picking on a colt. I don't particularly like it, but it is what it is. But a filly? Not only that, but one younger than you. THAT, that makes me pissed. They're backing her against a wall, I sprint up to them.

"Hey asshole!" I call, who I assume to be the leader of the group turns and I deck him in the jaw. His head swings to the side, but he doesn't go down.

"Why you little-!" He goes to attack me, but he's held back by the pony next to him. He turns to him with a glare, the pony isn't even looking at him. Or me. He's looking behind me. I Turn to look and find an officer walking towards us. "This isn't over." The leader turns to me and jabs a hoof at my chest. I just snort derisively. The group turns and walks away, the officer watches them leave, but doesn't follow them. He instead walks up to me and the filly, she just looks at him with wide eyes.

"Everything Okay?" He asks me. I look to the filly and she just looks at me with wide eyes. I turn back to the officer.

"We're fine." I say, he nods. He looks at us both and lingers for a second before trotting away. I turn to the girl besides me and she gets to her hooves.

"Thanks for saving me." She says, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Don't let them get you down, they're just bullies. Chin up filly, raise your head high and hold it proud." I tell her, using my hoof to tilt her head up. "There ya go. You're important, don't let anyone ever tell ya otherwise. Ya hear?" She sniffles and nods at me. "Alright. See ya." I tell her, continuing on my way. I don't dwell on what happened long, I still have to get home.

I near my front door and slow down, psyching myself for what I need to do. I stop before the door and take a breath. I open the door and burst in excitedly.

"Mom! Mom!" She nearly jumps out of her chair, but she turns to me.

"What is it Sweetie?" She seems concerned at first, but then she notices my smile.

"I got my cutie mark!" I turn to show her my mark and she perks up. It's the happiest I've ever seen her, and it makes me happy.

"That's wonderful honey!" She scoops me up in her forelegs and gives me a tight hug. Once she lets go she gets a good look at it. "It's a microphone. So... singing?" She asks.

"Yeah!" I answer, nodding quickly. She pulls me closer for another hug.

"That's great honey! Let's go celebrate! Where do you want to go?" She asks.

"Wherever you want to." I say with a contented smile. She taps her chin in thought, but I know she's only mocking real contemplation. We're obviously going the only real place we ever go to celebrate. The Salt and Pepper Diner, a real treat because we almost never go. Their food is spectacular and the staff is great. All friendly like, and they're also super lenient about stuff. Someone wants to dance on the table just because they can, well then they are gonna dance. The staff surely won't stop them, but there is a small plaque I only bothered reading once that can be summed up to "if you hurt yourself being a dumbass, it ain't our fault." I always thought it was kinda quaint, right at home in the middle of the diner. The placement didn't ensure customers would see it though. With so many better things to look at, the plaque made it near the bottom of most people's priority lists.

"Salt and Pepper diner?" My smile widens as I nod at mom's suggestion.

Called it.

~~~~~~~

"I don't know what they do that makes these burgers so much better than a regular Burger." My mom sighs.

"You said it." I say, setting down my small, yet surprisingly filling, Burger to take a break from the food. Help me digest a little. I remember hearing once that in Prance they eat real slow, so they're given time to digest. It helped them get Fuller, and stay Fuller without going overboard.

I'm not sure how much I believe of the story. How can eating slower make you more full? It's not like it changes size at all. Maybe it's a little true though, I think I might feel a bit more full now. This thought startles me, if I get too full I might not be able to finish. I get to eating once more with renewed vigor. I have to eat it before time makes it grow!

Minutes later I regret my decision. Now I'm just too full, I don't think I can eat anything else. I'm glad to see the waitress coming with our check.

"Could I interest you in any dessert?"

"No, please, have mercy on us!" I exclaim. She looks at me awkwardly before turning to my mom slowly.

"So, Uh... do you just want the check?" She asks. My mother nods and I sigh in relief. I can't eat anymore, but I doubt that would stop my stomach. I can't resist their chocolate cake. Mom's pulling out her bit bag to pay for our meal when two stallions I don't know walk into the diner. This wouldn't be a bad thing, if not for what they say next.

"Hey, isn't that..." the first stallion mutters.

"Hey, it is! It's Little Philly!" My face pales as they smile my way. I turn to my mother, hoping she didn't notice the exchange. I'm not so lucky.

"Little Philly?" She asks, raising an eyebrow. "Phillip...?" She asks the unspoken question in such a way that I can't avoid answering.

"Heheh... funny story..." I chuckle lightly, wiping a bead of sweat off my brow. I'm so utterly beyond screwed.