Reykjavík Grapevine - 04.12.2015, Síða 57

Reykjavík Grapevine - 04.12.2015, Síða 57
Hip Hop Lads (a poem) By York Underwood Let me tell the story of the lads of mad fun, who will at Christmas time come visit 101. Some came from the Farms, the two Wolves, you know, some mess around downtown all put on a show. Finní owns Prikið - where the lads get their beer - and the manager Geoff; keeps them all in good cheer. They were called the Yule lads - at Yuletide they were due - but this Yule was special, ‘cause they crushed Airwaves too. Thirteen altogether, artists in their prime and at their own pace each blew up at one time. Creeping up, all stealth, they kicked down the door. Selling out Húrra and Prikið but all wanted more. They hid where they could, with a joint and a beer, ready to party all night, fuck the police, no fear. Even when they get busted, drinking and smoking pot. They still party like it’s America, without getting shot. First was Stiffy Legs. Tall and stiff as wood, who whipped into shape all the Pu$$ that he could. Second, Gully Jumper, who came from the farm. ‘Stead of hiding in gullies he made cream with his charm. Stubby the third was called, don’t be fooled by the size. She’ll not only kick your ass but stick something inside. The fourth was Spoon Licker; thin, he was, and blonde. Wants to scoot to San Fran to lick spoons ‘cross the pond Pot Licker, the fifth, was a funny sort of chap. He loves to wear V-necks play guitar and rap. Bowl Licker, the sixth one, doesn’t quite seem to fit. But keep an eye on him he gets drunk and steals shit. The seventh was Door Slammer, two-in-one bathroom chap: takes pills in the stall, forgets about the tap. Skyr Gobbler, the eighth, was the nicest of lads. He always eats breakfast, and wants all to feel rad. Ninth: Sausage Swiper, steals your beauty mark moles. Her flow breaks glass ceilings and destroys gender roles. Tenth was Window Peeper, a weird man of wit, he loves to watch mischief so please suck that dick. Eleventh was Door Sniffer, he goes well with this jam. His lyrics are served hot like smoked Christmas lamb. Meat Hook, the twelfth one, likes treats made of ice. Scarfs down all she can, no concern for the price. . The thirteenth was Candle Beggar who snatched candles for thrills. He hangs out in the Shade The Reykjavík Grapevine's Xmas Special Spectacular Photos by Hörður Sveins

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