Yo, yo, yo! You know what time it is! It’s been a long time comin’, but we ’bout to hash this beef out once and for all. Through the years, these two great white hopes have been pitted against each other in a brutal grudge match. The people want this settled once and for all: who is the greatest white rapper of all time? We’ll let them duke it out themselves. This faceoff will be the final battle, winner take all, bragging rights and street cred for one, a cowardly walk of shame for the other:
EMINEM: Yo! Let me grab that mic, fo’real. And squash that “greatest white rapper” nonsense right now. I’m the greatest rapper alive! [Mic drop]
VANILLA ICE: [Picking up mic] All right, you need to stop, collaborate and listen….Psych! But seriously, yo, you need to take that -ish back to 8 mile or something. I’m the first, the original, and the only great white rapper, son.
E: I ain’t your son, dawg. Though you old enough to be my pops, yo. Or my grandpops. Do I need to get you a wheelchair?
V: I had a music career before you were out of diapers, that’s true. But I’m an OG, original gangsta, and you’re just a wanna be. I’m from the streets, kid.
E: What streets? The mean streets of Palm Beach? Please. The suburbs ain’t hard. Ain’t no suburbs where I’m from. You wouldn’t last five seconds in my hood, and that’s word to your mother.
V: Oh, you think you’re funny talkin’ mamas, now? Don’t be talkin’ ’bout my mama.
E: Or what?
V: Or I’ll take you to the house of pain. I been inside, son. I’ve seen things. You don’t wanna know.
E: “Inside”? Inside what, your reality show. Yeah, that’s what I thought.
V: Says the cartoonish plain white Christina Aguilera lookin’ hot ghetto mess named Marshall Mathers. Who ever heard of a rapper named “Marshall.”
E: Um, excuse me, dawg, your last names Van Winkle, yo. That’s like a fairy’s name in a little girl’s nursery rhyme. You’re the poster boy for nerdy dorks, and old minivan drivin’ soccer dads and over the hill where-are-they-now burnouts. You ain’t hard.
V: What, you think you get one best album, one best rap artist, and you think you’re all that? You can’t step to “Ice, Ice, Baby.” I’m an icon. Everybody knows who I am. I’m the king of white rap. People think of white rappers, they think of me. This ain’t the Eminem show. Get off your ego trip.
E: Ego trip? Quick news, you ain’t all that. You’re just a tatted up has been crackhead with a hair gel fetish and a breath mint shortage whose career has been on ice, ice baby since long before my career hit lift off. You need to see the writing on the wall. You never were. Your career as an American rapper was over before it started. You’re on HGTV, dawg. H-G-T-V!
V: You’re calling me a sellout? Rap music isn’t the same these days. All the synthesizers and techno junk. We had to come real with it back in the day. You couldn’t hang, homeslice. Back in the day, you would have been done, son. Finito. Served.
E: Come real like do cheap renditions of other people’s songs. You straight up stole your whole beat from that one song “Under Pressure”….
V: Oh please, not that again. Now you’re just being demeaning. I’ve explained it a million times. Their song went “dun, dun, dun, dun, duh, dun, dun” and mine went “dun, dun, DUN, duh, duh, dun, DUN.” It may be hard to swallow, word from your mother, but “Ice, Ice, Baby,” is still the greatest song in the world!
E: Hold up. First off, to the extreme, I aint never heard any of my homies call anything “demeaning.” You’re a song-stealing fraud who I could stomp dead or alive with one arm tied behind my back. Two arms. I would just stomp your old ass. Turn this whole thing into a slaughterhouse. Your word is nothing. But I bet you would know a little something about “hard to swallow.”
V: I’m not afraid of some young punk who wouldn’t be nothing without Dr. Dre. You got some nerve accusing me of stealing. You stole your rhymes, your style, your explicit lyrics, your act, your swagger, all of that from either me or real rappers before you. You ain’t nothin’. I’m too legit to quit. You’re nothing.
E: Yeah, yeah, “too legit”? Where have I heard that before? You don’t know what the meaning of “original” is. And you’re right, you’re white. The whitest dude I know. I don’t know which is whiter, “The Vanilla Ice Project” or that whack Cool as Ice film. I have real rap fans regardless of the color of their skin. Real rap people feel me. All you got is tired old housewives eating bon bons and wondering what ever happened to that “nice young iced vanilla fellow.”
V: Now you have incited the wrath of Robert Van Winkle. Robert Van Winkle is angry. And you won’t like him when he’s angry. And I still do music. Don’t make me get Limp Bizkit.
E: Play that funky music, white boy!
MC: All right, folks, that’s all the time we have. Be sure to tune in next time to see how this age old debate was finally resolved. In the meantime, feel free to cast your vote at The Dunce Academy. Enquiring minds want to know: who do you think is the greatest white rapper alive, Vanilla Ice or Eminem? We out!