Lay down those sick beats.

You think of your experiences in the castle and the issues you've been through, then think of rap videos you have seen. You've got plenty of issues to be mad at. So you take the mike and get into the beat and begin coming up with whatever is on you mind.

"Yo, this is Triple B. Wolf coming at you at the M.I.C.," you say, coming up with the title, something that sounds bad in a good way, and triple B sounds better then 'B.B. Wolf'. What the third B stands for you have no idea, but it sounds cool.

"Flew out town, skinny as can be, By the time I'm back, it's quadruple me, How'd that happen? Sit back and see, Got tricked in a castle by the man in green, Genie in a bottle, but a jackass mean, Wishes he offers, but give curses obscene Said 'make me big' but forgot to say lean, Made me the biggest thing you've ever seen, Now I shouting out this new routine, Stuck chowing down on too much cuisine, You want triple X, try needing sixteen, Wish I had someone to intervene, Or at least a vaccine, Or a way to go about this size unseen..."

You drop out everything, making exaggerated hand movements, and bobbing a little, the movements shaking your body more dramatically from your weight, until finally the beat dies and S.W. lifts up his glasses. The look on his face is somewhat impressed, but he tries to hide it. "That was... good I guess," he says. K.C. jumps in, "You kidding, that was awesome for a first attempt," he says, "Told, you, this guy, perfect, and Triple B? Killer title."

"Well, I guess we can make a few recordings and send them in," says S.W. contemplative. "Ok, I'm on board for now," he finally consents, trying to still sound dismissive, but looking excited himself. Were you really that good? Maybe there is something to this...

Written by an anonymous author

Let's find out...

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