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The Fresh Prince Machiavelli

Yo, listen to the story all about how
I got changed to an adjective from a proper noun
So let me take a minute, now, if I may
I’ll tell you how I wrote a book called Il Principe

In West Firenze I was born and raised
At the tavern is where I spent most of my days
Grammar and rhetoric, studyin’ Latin
Wearin’ academic cloaks of funky-ass satin

When a couple of Medicis who were up to no good
Overthrew the republic in my neighborhood
I got tortured just once, if you know what I mean
I said “I’m movin’ to my family estate in Percussina”

I begged and I pleased with the nobles each day
But the short-sighted bastards sent me on my way
So I wrote about the prince as a public figure
Kicked the script to Lorenzo, I said “check it, nigga!”

Lived under suspicion, I said “This is bad!”
Drinkin’ cheap wine, kissin’ Medici ass
Is this what the people of Florence live like?
I told the Republic “Yo, son, take a hike!”

My homies tried to diss me, said I sound like a nerd
When I say a prince is praised for the illusion of word
I wrote of the utility of a bad reputation
And then straight-up kicked it to a fast food station

I whistled for a coach and when it came near
The license plate said ‘PRINCE’ and had a noose in the mirror
If anything, I could say the coachman was scared
But I thought “Nah, who needs to be loved when you’re feared?”

I pulled up to my crib about 1527
I yelled to my family “Yo, I’ll smell you in Heaven!”
My rep has been muddled by readers with no sense
But I sit on my throne as Big Poppa Florence.


Aug. 4th, 2009 05:26 pm (UTC)
I'll have you know I spent a good twenty minutes sweating a "Fight the Power" rendition of Dante's Inferno and just couldn't. So my hat is off to you, sirrah.


flavored with age
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator
Ludic Log


Leonard Pierce is a freelance writer wandering around Texas with no sleep or sense of direction. If you give him money he will write something for you. If you are nice to him he may come to your house and get drunk.

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