Alexander Keith’s Brewery
1496 Lower Water St
Halifax, NS B3J3R5
May 28th , 2004
Dear Alexander Keiths:
I totally flip over your beer. My rap group and I wrote a song giving props to it. There is another group in town, Rhymes & Dis-Demeanors, and at a recent University of Manitoba show, they totally dis’d our act by doing a song about the beer they dig most, Heineken. They ended the song with “You just got served Rhyme Don’t Pay”. As clichéd and poser’ish as the dis was, we wanna serve them back. We are facing off against them in a rap battle in August, so if you wanna help, that’s cool (But WE AINT ASKING) . The three of them were all wearing Heineken socks they received from the Heineken brewery in Amsterdam, plus had a huge, inflatable Heineken Bottle. The company sent these things to them after they wrote them a letter. This is what spawned us to write this letter. No need to send us anything, just wanted to mention it. They’ve started a war, a war we intend to win. Here is our song (slightly modified to dish a lil dissin’ towards their beer; the originally version only mentions and gives props to your beer).
Alexander tha Great by Rhyme Doesn’t Pay
Yo, check it… Heeeeeeee’s
Alexander Keats,
Dead but still brewing out the beats
From the hair on his head to the balls of his feets
To the time he’s stomping Heineken, testing out his cleets
Gotta give it up, for that Nova Scotia pride, coming straight outta da East side
They’ve got patriotic prose, pouring fourth from the bottle’s insides
(and it’s all about Canada y’all)
Many girls, going for a guy
A drink so elegant, it attracts their eye
They know Keiths is in mah crew,
So I aint like every otha fool
I’m sumpin special, cause I knew to choose “the” brew
(or maybe it chooses you)
Heineken aint got nothing, they’s jus’ rustin,
On a shelf that’s all about combustin,
Just waiting to fall off the face of this earth,
And all of six Wordsworths, decades from their births,
Couldn’t write Heineken a single stanza of mirth
(breaking it down now, for ya, plain and simple)
Alexander the Great,
Yo, that’s what we call him,
Time tested and true, you know he’s a ballin
And when he comes a callin, our crew is sprawling
To be at his side, to protect his back,
To form a shield at any attack,
No advanced notice, at the drop of a hat
We use these words as artillery
These rhymes as our guide
When brothers be dissin,
Our’s heads is gonna collide
Spark an explosion bigger than ignited bromide
(ahhh yeah, back to the basics, periodic table of elements ya’ll)
Caaaaaauuuuuse iiiiiitttt’s …
Elementary, my dear Leenis,
Doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out a formulaic genius
It’s at your door, beggin to get in,
So get off the couch, thin that sickly thick skin
And let into your life, this Scottish puritan
(My Man Keiths!)
Oh, and please
let me say this to those chumps at Heineken…
If you came to my door, on a publicity route,
I’d stayed locked inside, and simply shout
(shout wit me)
Heinna what?
Heinna Go Home !
Heina What?
Heina go home !
Heinna what?
Heinna Go Home !
Heina What?
Heina go home !
I saaaaaaayyyyyy iiiiiiiiiit’s
Time for ya to be callin your mommies
Or your red star comrads, the commies
Any one of your follower zombies
Cause you gonna get hurt, as in feelings
And all affiliates is gonna dropin their business dealings
Gonna be left, dis-tri-but-or-less
Rep in a mess, you know I gotta confess
This all could have been avoided,
Instead of exploited,
Killin your ego, you’ve not only been served, you got Sigmund Freuded !
