Silver Chips Online

Our palms are sweaty, knees weak, but the bling-bling's all ready
We've got our beats, our lyrics, oh yeah - we're steady
We're nervous, and in your minds, you're laughing already
We're Magnets, and we're rapping - oh shoot, what rhymes? Spaghetti?

Fine, so we're no Snoopy Dogg or Emineminem, but we're the best "rappers" Silver Chips has, and we're ready to fight in the ultimate showdown: rapping our way to the title of "Freestyling Champions of the Universe" - or at least, of Blair.


So here we go, two nerdy Magnets finally leaving our calculators behind and diving headfirst into the big, wide world of freestyling battles. After all, this opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo.

Lose yourself

We initiate our rap takeover of Blair by putting our magnet research skills to work. According to Rapworld.com, since the 1970s, stars like Tupac, 50 Cent and Lil' Jon (Yeaaahhhhhh!) have sculpted rap with their own cars, women and lyrics. As the rap phenomenon grows, glittering stars are increasingly discovered in dimly lit freestyle battles - timed, impromptu competitions between rappers judged by audience "props" that highlight creative lyrics and on-the-spot thinking to the tune of a short, looped beat.

But freestyling is easier said than done, according to rapper Brian Kesten, a junior. "You know what you want to say," he says, "but to rhyme and have it make sense at the same time - that takes skill."

To see freestyle battling in action, we turn to "8 Mile," a movie based on Eminem's rise from the slums of Detroit. After all, if white guys like Em or Vanilla Ice (quit hatin' on Vanilla!) can make their way to the top of the freestyling food chain, it'll be a piece of cake for us. We watch "8 Mile" true to magnet form, taking meticulous, color-coded notes on the intricacies of freestyle:
• Whatever we do, we've got to "get the 301 on the map."
• Make up a cool handshake and/or greeting.
• Kick butt in spontaneous street fights.
• Holla at the honies (hunnies? honeys? ...girls).
• Cultivate a turf war with a rival freestyling crew.
• Win aforementioned turf war.

But first and foremost: bling.

Since our $4 budget doesn't quite extend to, say, platinum watches or diamond-studded crosses, we pick up some "dope flash" from our local dollar store: two large, fake, plastic-covered silver chains, one with the letters "Ru" (atomic symbol for ruthenium?) and another with a shiny, pointed crown. When we rule the school, we will get real crowns to match.

Then we visit Wikipedia's online Rap Dictionary to make our lingo "off the heezy." As we explore the wonders of "foshizzle" ("for sure," Snoop Dogg-style) and "homeskillet" (a close friend; synonym for "homie"), our homeskillet Chips' senior Chris Stavish interrupts our education with a little advice for our big debut. "You guys really gotta cise yourselves up, y'know?" he tells us. "Everyone there's gonna be joning on you."

Cising? Joning? This might be harder than we thought.

Back to the lab again

We're going to need a lot of help, so we turn for some expert advice to senior Makonnen Brown, who has been playing with words since elementary school. He's agreed to hunker down and give us a crash course in the walk, talk and philosophy behind what he calls truly rapping "off the dome."

To win a freestyle battle, he tells us, you have to find your flow, trash your opponent and rally the audience, all while appearing cool and collected. "It's just natural. You gotta be quick-thinking, and you gotta know how to read people," he says. "You gotta know what the crowd wants to hear - it's all about the audience reaction."

Sounds simple - flow, diss and look cool. But before Brown can administer the necessary emergency aid for us, he must assess our rapping skills. "Chill, just rap. You gotta deliver the lyrics," he insists, so we do. As we try to rap for him, a small crowd gathers around us. We can only hope that they are pointing and laughing with us, not at us.

"You're too jolly," Brown finally concludes, pointing to our contagious smiles and bouncy dispositions. "You gotta be more intimidating."

Samir pulls his hood over his head, grooving to the beat in his mind as Sheila documents his every word. "Word," he mutters, slightly slouched, bobbing his head. "Yo, check it."

Brown is pleased: "That's it," he tells Samir. "You gotta move with swag!"

As a final piece of technical advice, he suggests that we go home and write some "punch lines" - especially salient remarks that we can use come game time. "Write something down. Have a punch line, spit that, then feed off that.

"What do you like to do?" he asks, searching for inspiration.

"Calculus," Samir blurts.

Brown shoots us an incredulous look. Darn.

"We like to read, too!" Samir says, recovering.

"Okay, so you got a good vocabulary then, right? Use your mad big words to your advantage," he says. "Even if the crowd don't know what you're saying, they'll like it."

Our vocab may be "down with it," but we're not so hot in the style department - that's the one thing even the brightest Magnets get bad grades on.

When we tell Brown about our secret plans to intimidate our opponents with Ivy League sweatshirts and natural magnet pizzazz, his jaw drops. "Wear regular hoodies, or you're going to get fried," he warns. "Your opponent is gonna look at you from top to bottom," he explains, scanning us in the process before taking a long look at our shoes.

"They're comfortable!" we argue.

"Yeah, they're comfortable, but...what are all the shoes you've got?" When we mention loafers, he can only choke out two words: "Oh, [expletive]."

He struggles to get over our shocking lack of rap haute couture by suggesting other shoes we may have forgotten. "Y'all got any Air Force Ones? Nikes? Jordans? Timbs?" As the futility of finding brand-name sneakers or Timberland boots in our wardrobes dawns on him, he decides to try another tactic and puts us in an imaginary freestyle battle. His first question seems easy enough: "What color Timbs would you wear?"

This was a question on "Jeopardy" a few nights ago. "You know, that beige tone" - we begin, but he cuts us off.

"Tan." Sure, tan works too.

The tips fly faster from there. According to Brown, Timbs must be worn slightly loose with flared boot-cut jeans and a matching outfit to present a prop-worthy image.

Since our college sweats have been deemed wholly unacceptable, we puzzle over the question, then figure we can wear our current outfits. After all, they seem pretty clean except for those few stains from chemistry class.

"That...is not kosher, pickle!" Brown exclaims in despair. Apparently, wearing clothes twice in the same week is not a good habit. "It wouldn't be cool to wear that on Friday. You wanna watch it, or you'll end up in the L-column." L-column? Oh...the loser column. We knew that.

Before our dress-for-rap-success lesson ends, we remember to ask Brown the one thing that really matters: "How do you wear a doo rag?" Just when he didn't think it could get any worse with us.

Brown models the doo rag on Samir's head. "Make sure the line down the middle is straight on your head," he says, adjusting the white cloth into place. Yes! Straight lines are our specialty.

With a "dap" - a short fist-pound or high-five topped off with a snap " Brown sends us flying solo and only marginally more confident into our confrontation with Blair's freestyle battlers.

This article is Part I of a two-part series detailing the adventures of two "superfly" magnet Chips staffers. Check out the next issue of Chips for the results of Sheila and Samir's freestyle faceoff. If you see Sheila or Samir in the hallway, wish them luck - they're gonna need it.