(Must be spoken in a really bad Indian accent)
Hello. How are you doing today, good? Good Good. My name is [Jabbar Muhat Haasem] (fill-in-blank with a really long Indian
name) I like to work on computers, both my parents are professors of mathematics at Kansas University, I enjoy spending my
time at convenience stores buying blue berry slushies and eating micro-wavable burritos while planning my next terrorist attack.
I also love flying on my magic carpet and talking to my genie in a bottle.
(In a normal almost slang voice)
Yeah, had ya going there for a minute huh? Call me Tre. I'm Indian but that doesn't mean I'm anything stereotypical, well
accept that my parents are both professors which is why they keep bothering me to "take a serious look at my future college
options." Man, I think all that college talk is wickedy wickedy wack, cause ya see I already have a plan, a plan that is going
to make me famous. I will be the first Indian rapper.
I'm an Indian rap all-star from Detroit
I've got master rhymes, yeah that's right
I don't like curry
I'm not in no hurry
To run around in the Indian motherland
I'm anything but bland
I'll drop slams down on you
And you won't know what to do
I've got a master plan to get out here
My moms and my dads ain't got nothing to fear
College cannot contain me
I must be free to
Who is me?
Let me be
O.k., all right, I know that I'm not the best rapper in the world. I can't carry a tune and I'm not even that good at rhyming
but the guys I hang with are not any better at it. See I just started this rap thing about a month ago. I was walking home
from school, alone, which was typical of me during that time, walking home alone I mean. Anyways, I was walking home when
I saw these guys standing on the corner of the Quicky Mart by our high school and they were free styling, well kind of. I've
seen free style rap in New York when I went with my dad on a conference. The guys in New York really knew how to break it
down, but Jorge, Samuel, and Hong really can't rap at all, which I guess is why I fit in with them. I think with more and
more practice we could be good, well o.k., I know well probably never be good but it gives us something to do.
(Jabbar) "Can I get a what what?"
(Samuel acting like Snoop Dogg) "Foursizzle my nizzle. Sup Jabbizzle?"
(Hong /Chinese accent) "All man that's wack! Snoop Dogg already does that gig man. We need to come up with something
that makes us stand out. Anybody got any ideas?"
(Jorge/Mexican accent) "What about the three amigos, essay? But instead of three we could be the four amigos."
(Jabbar) "What did you score on your SATs? We need something new, something unique dogs."
(Hong) "Bling, Bling! I've got it. Our trademark could be a headband with our nicknames printed on the front that we
could all throw into the crowd after a concert. The girls would go crazy over our sweat."
(Samuel) "Ah yeah dog that's tight."
(Jabbar) "What are we going to do when women are throwing themselves at us and everyones offering us the wacky tabacy
and all that shight?"
(Samuel) "Damn dog, my moms would kill me. I drank from a 40 once at a party and she could smell it on me when I got
home. Man did I get in some serious trouble. I couldnt watch T.V., play my Playstation 2 or my computer for like two weeks.
I haven't looked at any kind of drug since, not even caffeine."
(Jabbar) "Yeah, but if were going to be a hard core rap group we need to go do some drugs and slap some hoes. You know
give us that from the streets edge. Hong you're always saying how you're a pimp, do you have any hoes handy?"
(Hong) "I dont know any hoes."
(Jorge) "I heard your sisters kind of a hoe."
(Hong) "Man that's not cool essay."
(Jabbar) "We need something man."
(Samuel) "Maybe we could be the only rap group that doesn't do drugs or slap around hoes."
(Jabbar) "The girls are really going to go crazy for that one. Man I need bounce otherwise my mas and pops is going
to be all illin. Think about something for next time homeys, peace out.
(Practicing his beat box)
"Jabbar Muhat Haasem we need to have a talk son."
"O.k. pops..I mean dad."
"Thank you for not using that uneducated teenage jargon. I like to think that the past thirteen years of the finest schools
money can offer at least taught you to speak correctly."
"Son have you had a chance to look at those college brochures I placed on your desk? With your scores I'm sure you can
get into anyone of them. What is your first choice?"
"I don't know dad. I don't know if college is right for me."
"What. How can you say that? You scored in the 93 percentile on your SATs."
"I want to be a rapper dad."
"A rapper. You know:
Kick the beat on the mic
College can take a hike
Oh yeah that's right. Man that's good, I need to write that one down."
"My son will not be a a a rapper. I want you to go to your room and seriously think about your future Jabbar."
I can't handle this type of pressure. It's too damn hard trying to figure out what I want to be. I've tried a little of
I thought I could make a great lawyer so I did debate for a semester but everyone assumed I knew everything since I was
Indian so I didnt learn anything and felt too embarrassed to go compete on the weekends and no one on the team ever talked
to me. I hated it and didn't fit in, so I quit.
Then I wanted to be a guitar player so I tried band but the band teacher gave me a Pungi to play since he had one just
laying around. If you don't know what a Pungi is, it's those flute clarinet looking instruments that snake charmers use. The
band teacher thought that I would love to play such a fine instrument from my home country. Since he wouldn't let me rock
out I threw the snake-charming flute away and quit.
I've quit a lot of things but that was mostly because I couldnt fit in. I'm not someone who just up and quits for no reason,
I usually stop doing something if that something doesn't see me for me. I'm not just an Indian. I'm not just a percentile
rank. I'm just me, Jabbar. My group sees me as me. They know I can't really rap but that I enjoy trying. They know what I
mean when they say my parents are bugging me or everyone is putting me in a stereotype. Hong, Jorge, and Samuel all victims
of Chinese, Mexican, and White man jokes; we understand each other.
(Hong/Chinese accent) "What's up homeboy?"
(Jorge/Hispanic accent) "Are you ready to break it down essay?"
(Jabbar) "Sorry I'm late, my pops was buggin about college again. He's all illin cause I ain't made my pick yet."
(Samuel/Caucasian accent) "Yes I know what you are talking about my father, I mean, man I knows my pops made me decide
before I left the house yesterdays."
(Jabbar) "Where are you going?"
(Samuel) "I'm going to Columbia. In New York."
(Jorge) I told my pops I was keeping my eye on NYU. With you going to Columbia I might keep both eyes there. Samuel
and Jorge chillin in the big apple. What about you Hong?"
(Hong) "I don't know homes, I was lookin at the west coast schools. I kind of like Berkley but Stanford offers a great
pre-med school dog. What about you Jabbar, I mean Tre?"
I don't know where I want to go
My decision movin to slow
So many choices where do I begin
Is this a primordial sin?
I can't choose
I just lose
(Beat box noises)
This ain't no Saturday special
My good friends mind set to wrestle
Choices at hand
Can change his life
And our band
But please, there is some strife
And me I'll stop the holla.
(Beat box noises)
Listen up yall
Listen up yall
I'm hear to call
Attention to the one
Jabbar the homey
Hes got the brain
To make the grain
That turns into dough
Or even grow out an afro
Boyz got skills
That will pay the billz
(Beat box noises)
Last in line
But I'll never do time
Decisions to be made
Before dreams may fade
Today is the day
To bring it on and say
I do what I need to do
I put on a brand new shoe
I'll go where I want to go
I'll know who I'll want to know
Get off his back
Cut him some slack
The man who will go far