This song includes words that students are likely to encounter on the SAT. It teaches the following words: daunting, feral, abhor, destitute, abject, domicile, derelict, defunct, requisition, renovate, affluent, raze, reprehensible, dilapidated, exacerbate, pacify, allay, assuage, anxiety, sedate, sobriety, agoraphobia, claustrophobia, diaphanous, harrowing, strenuous, canvas, ascetic, quaint, reel, redoubtable, formidable, austere, taciturn, enervate, abscond, desolate, despondent and forlorn. In this song, find out what happens when this emcee confronts his fear of spaces in hopes of rebuilding a warehouse.
These some haunting raps, what you think about that?
Might be a daunting task, but we on through that.
I’m seeing nine black cats with some teeth to match,
Savage beasts wearing feral masks.
There is this house I abhor and hate,
It’s all dark on the corner of my block.
I live among the impoverished and destitute,
The abject poor, here’s the proof:
The domicile was derelict, all run-down,
No sun now, we call the block mud town.
It was a defunct warehouse, no longer used,
The kids used to throw bottles at the windows after school.
The government demanded the house made a requisition,
They wanted to renovate it,
Fix it up for the rich and the affluent,
Those who have money, it’s crummy
Some wanted to knock it down, raze the house.
Damn! So damn cruel and reprehensible
The way the politicians treat the poor like they’re dispensable.
The house stayed put, remained dilapidated,
In a state of disrepair so the neighbors hate it.
My fear was exacerbated by this fact,
Made more intense by this fact.
My friends tried to pacify me, allay my fears,
Stop my tears, assuage my fears,
Soothe me like Jimmy Page drinking a smoothie,
Before a show to calm his anxiety,
Sedate himself into a state of sobriety.
Hiphop heads screaming, "Who’s he?"
He’s the ghost in these . . .
Haunting raps . . .
I’m agoraphobic: scared of open spaces,
claustrophobic: scared of confined spaces,
So I’m doubly screwed, know what I mean dude?
At least I’m transparent like diaphanous screens letting light through.
I live in fear, it sounds queer,
I have harrowing experiences year after year.
Just to step out my door is a strenuous task,
Requiring strength like a canvas needs paint,
An ascetic practices restraint,
He ain’t eating caviar, he’s sitting in his old house it’s kind of quaint,
But not this frickin’ haunted house, it’s all that I’m seeing,
Up to the ceiling, spider webs leaving me reeling.
Against the stormy day this house is redoubtable,
Arouses dread and alarm, it’s formidable.
The austere appearance, bare, and bleak,
Makes me taciturn, I’m too scared to speak.
This experience enervates me, I need sleep.
I need to abscond, hide out, and I’m gonna sneak.
The desolate, deserted, dreary landscape,
Makes me wish I was at home eating my mama’s pancakes.
I’m feeling despondent, distressed, and hopeless,
I’m not the dopest maybe I’m just a dope,
I’m forlorn, I’m lonely, I have no hope, 'cause these some . . .
Haunting raps . . .
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