Post by Deleted on Jul 26, 2019 9:58:53 GMT -5
You click "play" on the YouTube clip. The black screen opens with words.
FUCK
THEM
They hit ya with a fade in. Trapson, the King of Pop Rocks, is sitting on the middle turnbuckle. He is in his trademark black slacks, white rhinestone kickpadded black boots underneath. On his right hand is 'the glove'. In the other is nothiinnghing but a middle finger pointed to the camera. And yes, the music from above is playing.
"Man, I don't know who these fools think they are! Alex Scott? He ain't even say nothin' about me! He didn't want that smoke! They're all just a bunch of mass produced copies of each other! I'm about to dance on 'em! Trapson on the beat!"
You'll want to play the song while you read this. Trust me. It'll make more sense when you hear sing.
"FUCK! HIM! FUCK! THEM! FUCK! MEL! FUCK! THEM!"
Trapson leaps from his behind from the middle buckle to the top, still sitting on the buckle.
"YOU KNOW THEY AIN'T REAL ENOUGH! HOPE THEY KNOW HOW TO TAKE A BUMP! THEY'RE GONNA TRY GANGIN' UP! AIN'T NONE OF 'EM GOT THE STUFF!"
Pulling a blunt from the buckle cover, he holds it up.
"FUCK! GRAHAM! FUCK! HIM! KAN-DI? FUCK! THEM!"
Trapson touches one end of the blunt to the glove, lighting it.
"AIN'T NOBODY REAL ENOUGH! CAN'T NOBODY STOP THE GLOVE! PACK IT UP LIKE WE IN THE CLUB! EVERYBODY GONNA PUSH AND SHOVE!"
Trapson leaps off the top, the glove glowing as it fills the screen fully. It's a Hitchcock wipe, revealing Trapson in front of a heavy bag in Trinity Wrestling's training facility. Trapson raps as he dances around, throwing the straight kick into the bag and leaving an small layer of rhinestone crystals in his footprint.
"30 of 'em fightin' for the love, 30 of 'em think they got the flow, but ain't none of 'em got the glow, Trapson in it ready to go..."
With a spin and a duck, Michael hits the clothesline on the bag. We switch to Trapson now moonwalking in place on a treadmill.
"Simon says Solomon sucks, take 'em out I gives no fucks, load it up, put it in the truck, all these cats quack quack, put you money where you mouth at!"
Trapson alows the omentum of the treadmill to push him off, doing the lean on the way to the floor. He jumps off, spinning around. Next up, we're seeing Trapson in the ring, ocking somebody in a side headlock while continuing to rap.
"Power Couple, I DON'T THINK SO! You's a ho, you's a ho, bet you can't throw me out doe!"
Trapson and the wrestler exchange sequences, with Trapson now in an arm lock. He dances through the arm lock, turning it into a hip toss. Now we go to him doing curls with a barbell, using the gloved hand. Every time he raises the barbell, it glows.
"Cocky like Foghorn Leghorn, but you ain't real like a unicorn, Kandi Washington softcore porn, it's a metaphor for a spotlight whore!"
Trapson is back in the ring now, with a shit ton of goons and thots dressed like luchadores. They all leap around the ring to the music.
"FUCK! THEM! FUCK! THEM! FUCK!"
Trapson holds his hands up out of nowhere, with everything stopping including the music in the background. Everyone looks at him, as he turns to everyone behind him.
"Wait a minute, everyone! I gotta say something..."
Trapson turns back to you, the viewer.
"I just wanna make sure y'all know, I ain't hatin' everyone! I got love for some of ya! I just wanna let y'all know, I wanna be the best and to do that, I gotta beat the best! A lot of y'all like Pasha, Lex Collins, Kitty Petrova, Thomas Snow...y'all are all right! I'm sorry. I just want you to know...whatever happens out there Tuesday night in Vegas, may the best of us win!"
Trapson leads the whole room in one loud "SHA-MONE!" before pointing to the air with his gloved hand. The glow gets brighter...brighter...and brighter...
"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...."
When the glow dissipates, the music starts back up and the ring begins jumping again.
"FUCK! THEM! FUCK! THEM! YOU KNOW THEY AIN'T REAL ENOUGH! YOU KNOW THEY ALL WANT THIS GLOVE!"
You can go ahead and stop the video now, it's pretty much over at this point.