All is silent. All is in awe. Then the Jellyman strikes, having weathered Homeless Helper’s lyrical storm…
“… … … …”
(Dear Lord/I’m blessed, to have survived that mess/was it trying or regret?/am I dying or upset?
Do you really think I deal in the superman stakes?/ Be a Saiyan Godzilla- don’t matter/yo’ cake!
I gotta say I never rapped against a real TimeLord/Thank ned for that/Yo’ rap could make drying paint bored
You got a spanking life story- so what? You need glory/You want glory, gotta blow/So us big cats always know
Who is king of the cream in this rap cat heaven/Being old don’t matter/If yo’ dials don’t reach eleven
You can try your best/but you’re trying too hard/man yo’ stick to saving bubs/be the hero/not the bard
Now this Jelly got rhythm/got rhyme, got style/see this neon pink jazz?/latest fashion in a while
I’m the rapping belly-dancer/there isn’t none I don’t defile/you step it up I tear you down/with my speakin’ bot Kyle
Got scraps/got scrapes/got foundation/got pace/I’m the biggest damn Jelly yo’ is ever gonna face
Now y’all turn back now/or it’s one less from your race/take yo’ chubby pet penguin/show the meaning of haste
I’m a lover not a killer/smacking you’d be such a waste/but this here- it’s all mine/no fins in my space!)
And with that, the Jellyman ceases. Words have been spoken, put-downs have been placed, and the Jellyman waits for a response.
Homeless Helper sighs, and looks at his companion. He stifles a smile.
That is not a happy penguin.