The Greatest Rapper in the World - The Finale

CHAPTER TEN
It seemed a mighty coincidence that my second taste of real fame would come the same way as my first, the by-product of a chuckle worthy video clip going viral. It did occur to me that perhaps all fame came down to that, stringing together successive, popular video clips for enough time that you became ubiquitous in the eyes of a generation.

My second stumble into publicity came from a serendipitous technical failure, rather than any breakthrough from my hard work. The incident occurred during my first ever performance of N.O.T.O.R.I.O.U.S. NIGEL. I made the mistake of rhyming Nigel with vigil. This wasn't a major faux pas, and I implemented the lyrics in the correct way, arranging the off-pronunciation in the front half of the couplet and allowing the rhythm of the lyrics to disguise the pronunciative misgivings. It would be easiest for me to show you the YouTube video of what happened, but since we sold Kelly's laptop for grocery money I'll have to inform you with words only.

I was flown to the American city of Atlanta for a Rising Stars of Hip Hop tour. The promoter had booked me after he found my ongoing public battle with True Drew amusing, and he asked me to play the opening set of the day. Like most festivals, the opening set is attended mainly by sound technicians for later sets, food and drink vendors who are setting up for the afternoon, and whichever squares turn up at the start of a small music festival in Atlanta. The side stage was not Madison Square Garden, but I had a small crowd gathered when I began with Hug your Homey, some even sang along. After Garbage Robot I could tell the audience was about to dip, as I'd exhausted my supply of hits and on the main stage Shad's roadie was doing his sound-check. I had to do something to keep the crowd, so I decided to premiere N.O.T.O.R.I.O.U.S., my next single. I franticly signalled to my sound tech to drop the electro-dubstep-moombahton beat I'd been working on.

The chorus to N.O.T.O.R.I.O.U.S. goes:
I've made mistakes, yeah, I'm notorious,
Even if you tried you couldn't be as infamous,
Many share my name, but I'm the world's greatest Nigel,
If you try to play this game then you better keep a vigil.

I was nine and a half words into the third line when my trainee sound tech accidentally cut the power. An immediate hush came over the crowd of Georgians. Caught off guard, I waved awkwardly in a way many blogs would later convince me was a parody of a gang sign. When the power came back on I was not asked to finish my set.

The world was divided by my actions; I had haters and advocates, the passion of both groups drove my sales higher. Race divide was suddenly open for debate, and I think I kicked some goals trying to bring the world that little bit closer to unity. I think after the shock wore off I was eventually accepted. This was great, because it opened up new opportunities for me to appear as a criminal or constable in mid-budget police dramas. From there a future of movie roles and deep, introspective rap albums was assured.

Eventually the talkback shows moved on to something else. I never tried to perform N.O.T.O.R.I.O.U.S again. I focussed on new material. I think it was premature, but the next thing I decided to announce was the release of my new song The Greatest Rapper In The World.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Greatest Rapper was my magnum opus, my coup de grĂ¢ce, my tightest shit. It was about how great I was. It was a lyrical essay that documented my entire stint in the rap game. It started with a graphic recount of my conception, then my childhood and its hardness, Kelly, all the part time jobs I'd worked, more about Kelly, then finally the ‘greatest rapper' metrics and how I was working towards achieving each one. The whole track went for nine minutes and eight seconds, one second longer than Kanye West's landmark single Runaway. I also released a radio edit. It was the same length, but with any expletives over-dubbed with sound effects.
I expected sales. My YouTube channel was still churning out visits. There was press. Kelly and I were excited.

The day before the track was scheduled for release I received the first cease and desist. Jay-Z's legal team delivered it personally. They were a comical sight, five men and women in sharp, neutral coloured suits crowded together on the landing in front of our unit's door. They told me that "greatest rapper in the world" was the protected trademark of Shaun Carter. All but one of the lawyers then left. The straggler, it turned out, was Bryan Williams' lawyer, who informed me that "greatest rapper alive" and "the illest" were both copyright by Mr Williams.
The lawyers continued all morning, Kelly and I watched as the stack of legal threats piled upwards. "The best", "I'm all that" and "Number One MC" each had legal ownership. I had no choice but to pull the song from the market or face financial ruin. Kelly held my hand through the call to my agent to end the online sales before they even began.

I was crestfallen after the call. "I've failed you," I told Kelly.
"No Nigel," she said. "I still believe in you. This is only a setback. You can still be the greatest rapper in the world."
"Shhh," I whispered, looking around for lawyers. "You really think I can do it?"
"Of course," she said. "I love you!"
I pondered. "I guess, I should make sure it's not copyrighted, but I could become the greatest rapper in the... Universe?"
On the table was the paper I'd been tracking my progresses on. "Most hits, most money, fastest rhymes, I'm not near any of these yet."
She asked, "What else could you use to determine if you're the greatest rapper in the universe?"
"I don't know." We sat to think. After thirty minutes Kelly got up and made us a pot of Earl Gray tea.
We sat and pondered for the whole day. The sun set and our bellies rumbled. Kelly offered to cook supper, but I declined. I wasn't going to eat until I could find something I was better at every other rapper at.
"I'm going to the library," I told Kelly. "I need to research."
"Okay," she said.

The library was open late, and was mostly empty when I arrived. A bank of desks had computers for public use and all but one was vacant. I sat down in front of a keyboard and pulled the plastic chair in. I tried for hours to find something, some metric, some measure I could work towards that would elevate me to the position of greatest rapper in the universe. Cars, syllables, most creative use of samples, jail stints, humorous album covers. Everything was a dead end, everyone had me beat. With heavy eyes I scrolled through Wikipedia article after Wikipedia article. I don't remember what page I was on when I fainted.
At closing time the librarian couldn't wake me. After checking my wallet she called my emergency contact and Kelly came to find me. She shook me, whispering into my ear. She kissed my temple and wrapped her arms around me in an awkward hug until I stirred. I lifted my head, the indent of half a keyboard impressed across my face.
"Hey sleepyhead," she said.
"I did it," I mumbled. "I'm the greatest rapper in the universe."
She stroked my arm. "I know you are, I've always known."
"I love you," I said. "My Kelly I love you so much."
"I love you too."
She took my hand and led me from the library and took me home.

Left behind us, on a piece of paper next to the computer I used were eleven words:

Greater Than Every Rapper At:
- Loving Kelly.
- Being Loved by Kelly.

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