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CRAM · (11-14-2023)

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTBXTyTS-EXRnIrtrUarTl...Q&usqp=CAU]

https://youtu.be/k6cirwD-9cM?si=-cgrvaCQ7skVUjma

Tommy been playen the game with lames.

One night with CRAM and ya never the sames.

Fresh out the box already burnen like the flame.

First time in bought to get that TV title fame.

You can play Able cause I’m your Cain.

Gonna run ya ass like me and da boys did the train.

For ya booty hurten, CRAM be to blame.

Ya probably thinking this mo-fucka insane.

Na blood I just be on a domination campaign.

Gonna make that TV title the main after my reign.

CRAM is too hot for TV.

Tommy gonna Wish he didn’t see me.

Fire and Ice, murder in da first degree.

CRAM new champ dats a guarantee.

Tommy thinken he somethen, cause ya downed Logan.

But CRAM ain’t some lame, he a shogun.

Betoken more than Joe Rogan.

Best around, even if it’s unspoken.

I be token and Wish gonna be choken.

This ain’t an omen.

CRAM new face of da promotion.

Tommy gonna be wearing his hemoglobin.

Gonna beat um raw, no trojan.

Causen more erosion to XWF then da ocean.

CRAM is too hot for TV.

Tommy gonna Wish he didn’t see me.

Fire and Ice, murder in da first degree.

CRAM new champ dats a guarantee.

Coming in hot just like the fajita.

Gonna have head spinning like all ya can drink Margarita.

Fire and Ice, ya title reign I’m delete a.

Lose ya title fasta then a cheetah.

And it's like I'm a heathen.

Now it's battle time I stepped in the arena.

Killin’ is the religion service is in a prison.

Rape and pillage a village women and children.

Droppen bodies like I work for the Clintons.

And I'm fired up like the booty of a swisha.

CRAM is too hot for TV.

Tommy gonna Wish he didn’t see me.

Fire and Ice, murder in da first degree.

CRAM new champ dats a guarantee.

~The beat fades and CRAM removes his headphones. CRAM stands in his home studio, nothing fancy, egg cartons and drink carriers used for soundproofing. The microphone is a Prime Day special, a mattress is leaned against the walk-in closet door to soundproof the makeshift studio even further.

CRAM places his headphones on a hanger on the wall and grabs a lighter and Dutchie from his music stand. CRAM lights the Dutchie, and as he watches the flame dance on the green-leafed blunt he speaks his mind. ~

CRAM: Ah yo, Tommy Wish, congratulations on being the new XWF Television champion. And, condolences on losing that same Television championship. Dats a foregone conclusion homie, just a matter of time, a few ticks oh da clock before ya boy CRAM got that championship over his shoulder. Da boy is made for have gold draped around him, dats my vide.

Your vibe though Tommy, well, it’s just kinda mid. You just one mid mofo Tommy. King oh the nobodies, the biggest kernel of corn in the turd. Winning that TV title is probably the highlight of ya life next to finally losing your virginity in your late twenties to the bottom of the barrel scraps left at last call.

Dem two of the luckiest days oh ya life, and come Fire and Ice ya going back to ya mid status. Only thing that makes ya relevant is dat gold strap ya using to hold them Temu dupe EmRata Clove jeans up on ya soft white belly. Come Fire and Ice, CRAM gonna expose ya soft white underbelly. Gonna put ya ass down for the three-second count. BET, bet the crib, bet the whip, bet ya last dolla, CRAM NEW CHAMP THEY GONNA HOLLA!

~CRAM takes a long hit from the Dutchie, he doesn’t even cough. Iron Lungs, no cap, all feeling. CRAM exhales feeling the whole studio with smoke. The smoke clears and the setting is no long CRAM’s studio, but instead is now in the past when CRAM was just a kid.

Now, we are in downtown Miami where towering skyscrapers cast long shadows over crowded streets, where the young kid named Kane Tagaloa, the future CRAM, was born and bred. Kane was known to the locals as a scrappy and resourceful boy who had learned to navigate the concrete jungle at a tender age. Big for his size, 5’6” 180lbs are only eleven years old, big in statue, heart, and mind, but young and weak to the real world Life had dealt him a tough hand, but his spirit burned brighter than the neon lights that adorned the city-cape.

CRAM's story began with a fateful incident that would change his life forever. At the age of 11, he found himself wandering through a dimly lit alley, lost in his thoughts as he practiced his lyrical exercises. He had just managed to snatch a half-drank forty from a trash can when two menacing figures suddenly confronted him. Their faces were hidden beneath hooded jackets, but the glint of a gun caught the dim light, sending a shiver down Cram's spine.

"Empty your pockets, kid," one of them growled, the voice dripping with malice.

Cram's heart raced, his hands trembled, but he wasn't about to let his fear show, he refused to be a bitch. With a trembling voice, he replied, "I ain’t got sh*t for you old f**kas."

Kane’s bravado lessened as one of the men pulled his red shirt back over the handle of a gun in his waistband. Kane was shook, but wouldn’t show it as he reluctantly handed over his few possessions, a twenty-dollar bill, a single joint of dirt weed he had snatched from his grandfather, and a Tracfone. Anger ignited within him. He watched helplessly as the thieves snatched his meager belongings and vanished into the night. Kane felt a mixture of rage, humiliation, and determination. That night, as he lay in his bed, sweating in his un-air-conditioned house, watching a flickering streetlight from his window, he made a promise to himself, he would never be terrorized again. He would be the terrorizer.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Kane’s determination grew stronger with every adversity he faced. He began observing the patterns of the streets, learning which corners to avoid and where he could find allies among the homeless community. He befriended others who had fallen through the cracks of society, forming a makeshift family of kindred spirits who shared their struggles and stories.

Cram's intelligence and resourcefulness became his greatest assets. He learned to pick pockets with a finesse that rivaled the best thieves, and he discovered hidden spots where he could make backlot deals with fellow youths, before robbing them for the product he has just sold them. He also honed his skills at street smarts and fighting. He learned to utilize his size avoid getting in fights through intimidation, and when he did have to fight used it to win.

As the years went by, Kane's reputation grew. He became known as the street kid who could always find a way out of a tight spot, get you what you wanted, and not to be played with. His experiences taught him that true strength wasn't just about physical power, but about adapting, outsmarting, and persevering against the odds.
One day, as Kane was wandering near the very alley where he had been robbed years before, he saw a familiar scene playing out—two thugs cornering a frightened teenager. Without hesitation, Kane sprang into action, the now 15-year-old was 6’ 215lbs”, and fast. He ran down the alley and tackled one of the men to the ground, his head bouncing off the concrete and knocking him out.

Amid the chaos, one of the thugs turned his attention to Kane. "You think you're tough, kid?" he sneered.
Kane met the thug's gaze with a steely resolve. "Na, mothaf**a, I know I am.."

The man reached for his gun in his waistband, but as he grabbed it Kane tackled him into the wall and heard the breath escape the man's body. Kane grabbed the gun, pulled it from the waistband, and pistol-whipped the thug across the face, gashing his cheek open and sending him to the pavement.

The other thug was starting to regain consciousness, and Kane knew he’d soon be in a two-on-one fight. He hated these two men and wanted revenge. He pointed the gun at the thug he had just taken it from and began pulling the trigger.

“CLICK!”

“CLICK!”

“CLICK!”

“This mothaf**ka isn’t loaded”, Kane said as he dropped the magazine from the gun.

“No sh*t” the thug said as he began getting up.

Kane snarled and smashes the gun into the side of the thug’s face, knocking him back to the ground. Kane mounted him and began slamming the gun into his face over and over. Kane stood up and began kicking the other thug in the head, four straight kicks to the skull and he was out cold.

Kane looked over his shoulder at the teenager he has saved, who was frozen against the wall in fear. The teenager breathed heavily as his look of fear changed as he realized he had just been saved. The look changed to one of awe and gratitude.

From that day forward, Kane's reputation evolved into that of a guardian of the streets—a protector of the vulnerable and a symbol of resilience. He became known as a man to be both respected and feared.
Kane's journey from a victim of circumstance to a beacon of strength and hope served as a reminder that adversity can either break you or shape you. Of course, we can’t always control our circumstances, and with great power, comes great responsibility. A responsibility that would prove to be too much for Kane to handle, and that would ultimately transform him into CRAM. ~

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