It’s Hard Out Here For A Mime

By Mar-Sell Mo’Soul
Gangsta Mime

Yo, damn. Mime can’t get a muthafuckin’ break in the rap game.

Me and my crew Busta Mimes and Peti’ Jean be layin’ down the phat grooves all up and down the streets of Marseilles – you know, rockin’ the invisible box, steppin’ against the wind, all that shit - but all the rap-label suits give a damn about is how it plays on the CD. Hell, man – we even hooked up with the tightest DJ this side of the Seine, but when we dropped our sixteens to the disc, all we heard was backbeat with the occasional “Yeah!” and “Unhh!” from the studio posse – and that ain’t gonna sell shit for any motherfucker not named Diddy.

The label suit says we should make sounds and shit to boost the CD sales, but we ain’t about that. We MIMES, yo, and we keeps it REAL! You want talking white-faced motherfuckers, scope out one of them Cirque du Soleil bitches.

Out.