Normally I would say fuck this doofus, he should concentrate on making a goddamned free throw instead of trying to rap, but the Diesel ain’t all that bad.

I mean he did tracks with Erick Sermon and the fucking RZA back in the day so whatever, he’s cool but this shit right here? This shit right here, nigga? This shit right here? This shit right here??? I fucking love this guy now, his rep just skyrocketed into the stratosphere.

P.S.

From the moment Shaq left the Lakers I said that Kobe would never win another ring again unless he switched teams.

Hahahahahaha FUCK that whiny douchebag.

Suck a dick Kobe, go cry in your big pillow.

P.S.S.

Just because, here’s a bonus photo of Chris Childs punching Kobe in the throat!

MVP my ass.

One of these dudes is famous for choking dudes out, the other one is famous for choking chicks with an Arizona Iced Tea can.

My little homie Brian and a small crew of bros had the chance to hang out this past weekend with BJ Penn and the guy that owns RVCA clothing, and B-Dubbs just couldn’t resist a photo op of him on the receiving end of one small kine neck crank courtesy of the champ.

This is for my man Cuzzo from Fitted Hawaii, who is a full-blown Miami Vice aficionado, and also just happens to be the Orlando Calderon of the Hawaiian hat game.

Last we saw Eli, he was inexpicably left hanging on the short end of the judging stick in a lyrical freestlyle battle that was on some one-sided ass beating of mega snuffleupagus proportions. Except that it was Eli who should have been the victor, since it was he that delivered the bloody Mortal Kombat fatality, and that busta-ass, mark-ass, trick-ass ho Envy got touched by the illest death blow since Jerry and Kramer were bootlegging for Brody back in ‘96. (George was useless, he went down at the Beackman. He tried to lam, but they cheesed him.)

Anyway, this devastating defeat at the hands of Envy, however wrong and unjust it is, may or may not have been the single greatest thing to ever happen in young Eli Porter’s life. As for the host of the show, your boy Marv-O, he’s still snuggled up with his man J-Dub. Oh, and Action Jackson? The douche bigalow that held the third and deciding vote that swayed the battle in Envy’s favor? I’ve started a worldwide movement of bloodthirsty justice hunters and we are now in the process of hunting Mr. Jackson down and we’re not going to rest until his corpse is drained of it’s blood and his fucking head is resting comfortably up on the end of a pointy stick.

But really though, this dude has the Internet going fucking nuts right now!

I seriously want him to stomp a mudhole in Souljah Boy’s ass right this minute.

How the fuck is there no Eli Porter dance or fucking album yet?

Surely A&R people can see the incredible marketing opportunities that are available with this young phenom.

Seriously. This dude is like far more entertaining and easily more buck wild than probably 75-85 percent of the idiots in hip hop today that have deals and ringtones and shit.

Somebody better step up and make Eli an offer, I mean look at fucking William Hung, that retard went on tour and got mad bitches in the process!

Eli shits all over William Hung and any other bullshit freak show you can think of because, among many other reasons, he’s quite simply the best, mayne. He did it, but he should be doing it much bigger.

I do not even know where to begin with this because there is just an amazing amount of wild shit going on here, in fact, it’s borderline overwhelming. I’ll try though.

First, I would like to start off with the introduction of the cast of this beautiful, life-changing one act play that has touched my very soul like no other in recent memory.

Leading things off, we have your boy Marv-O. Marv-O is the host of the Iron Mic Freestyle Battle at Chamblee High School in Atlanta, Georgia.

Also on the show, we have three young men on the judging panel. Please meet Jonathan “The Bus” Hodges, Jeremy “J-Dub” Walker, and Steven “Action” Jackson. This trio of fine gentlemen assist Marv-O by providing the invalubale service of critiquing the contestants that do battle on the mic.

The two participants that will be going head to head in a heated, no-holds barred, anything goes freestlye rhyme battle are Eli Porter and Envy. Eli is a junior, and Envy is a sophomore. 

Now that we’ve met the principal players in this genius work of entertainment, let’s roll the tape, shall we?

First of all, I’m really feeling the intro instrumental track. It’s from the Clipse classic “Ma, I Don’t Love Her”, a fine slice of love song from my favorite coke rap artists of all time. Basically, Clipse and the Re-up Gang can do no wrong, and they are hereby allowed to say and do anything they want until the end of time and I promise to dutifully lap it up like a good little doggie. Clipse fucking kill it, but you already knew that, and I digress…

When we first see Marv-O, he seems like a normal enough cat, and he introduces himself, the contestants, and the judges. Standard so far, right? Wrong. First of all, I have to put this out there right now, there’s something about Eli, and I just want to say that the dude could possibly be mentally challenged in some capacity, which I normally would not like to make fun of a person for being. I’m not 100 percent certain. He may just be slow, or maybe he’s just fucking strange. Eli, if you are handicapped in any way, I’d like to apologize for clowning you, but if you’re not, fuck it! Anyway, check out how he rolls his eyes when they’re being introduced, that’s kind of ill.

Next, the judges, seated, are introduced by your boy Marv-O, who is standing behind them. Oh, and also, for some unknown reason, Marv-O has his arms draped over J-Dubs neck, and both of his hands are on his homie’s chest in some kind of bromantic guy embrace. Huh??? Dude, what the fuck? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I think the phrase I’m looking for is “wild homo”. At least I think that’s what the kids are saying nowadays.

Whatever, dude. Fuck it, show your love, just be sure you pepper your sentences with several ”no homo” insertions. Oops! No homo no homo no homo. That’s another thing that those wacky kids say nowadays. Okay, so Marv-O is pawing one of the judges and he goes on to explain that the rules, although apparently obvious to everyone involved, are that each competitor is allowed 45 seconds to rip shit on the mic, and when time is up, Marv-O will tell you to stop. Any contestant still spitting after the allowed 45 seconds will be duly disqualified. This seems like quite a fair allotment, as 45 seconds should be more than enough time for one to rip a crab in half on the microphone.

Anyway, the bell sounds and the gloves immediately come off. Envy is up first, and he starts te proceedings off with a few standard yo’s, uh-huh’s and okay’s, and of course the introduction of his own name. Soon after, and I am not completely sure of this, but I believe he hints at what could possibly be a jab at Eli’s mental state, which may or may not be less than average. Peep his first verse: “Yo, the boy has got you talkin’ cripple/my advice to Eli is to stop rappin’, stick to walkin’ cripple…” Huh? Does he know something we don’t? Is Eli in fact mentally challenged in some way? If he is, and Envy is clowning him in a freestlye battle, well then, that’s just plain wack! Ruthless too. Side note: check out Eli while Envy is spitting, is he bugging out on purpose, like to try and gain a psychological advantage over Envy? Or is he getting himself amped up for his upcoming chance to fire back with his own retalliatory lyrical arsenal?

Moving right along, we learn that Envy is an admirable young man, having been up on the block (but never selling rock) and we also find out that Envy fancies himself a lyricist that gets busy in a fashion similar to Lil’ Wayne. Envy goes on to state that if anybody wants it, they can most assuredly get it, and that he never raps with a stutter. Envy then finally winds things up with a flurry that includes somewhat cryptic talk of firearms. Fair enough.

When Envy is done ripping it, Marv-O introduces Eli as the judges seem stoked and ready for the second contestant, especially J-Dub, who points both fingers at the camera enthusiastically.

Eli sets it off with a monster verse (and I’m kind of paraphrasing here): “Yeah, I got one question, mayne/tell me who next/this nigga soft like a nigga who didn’t gimme the best…” At least I think that’s what he said, dude was kind of on some mumble shit for a second. Then,  Eli comes out of left field with what may or may not be the greatest line in hip hop since KRS dropped “I’m number one, two, three, four, and five…” when he spits this now immortal (to me, anyway) phrase: “See, I’m the best, mayne, I did it.” Wooooooo, that’s the hot shit right there! Seriously. I want that shit on my tombstone. Can you see it? I can. Here lies Lawrence David Warnken, and directly underneath that, my date of birth and date of death, and then under that in big bold fucking print: I’M THE BEST, MAYNE, I DID IT!

So back to Eli, after he drops the nuclear bomb-ass verse for all time, things begin to get a little weird, because, you know, it hasn’t been weird at all up until this point.

So Eli stops rhyming and there appears to be some technical difficulties afoot. It’s unclear to the viewer whether this is something behind the scenes or maybe Eli just got straight up shook and drew a blank.

Regardless, it’s awkward for a minute, not like it hasn’t been at all awkward up until this point, but anyway, when Eli comes back, it’s back with a fucking vengeance. Check the next verse, dunny: “See, I’mma let you know who the best/by the hour/just like Rosie O’Donnell/at a bisexual bridal shower…” OH SHIT! OHHHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIT! He just killed Envy like 500,000 times right there. I mean just fucking slayed that dude. Deftly.

Eli keeps it going with references to his grille, as well as the acknowledgement of his ill-timed vocal misstepping. Gotta love a dude that fesses up to it when he fucks up. Respect. As if adding insult to injury wasn’t bad enough, Eli chooses to question his opponents sexual orientation in a most humorous and scathing fashion: “Look at this dude/he need to stay in the shade/ain’t no wonder why he came out/he already in a gay parade…” OH NO HE DIH-INT!!! Oh yeah, he did. Eli finishes up the brutal butchering of Envy with a stinging parting shot directed at Envy’s physical appearance: “So you step down, off the pedestal/I’m the best, man/you need to go to the fuckin’ dental…”

Damn! That was a straight-up ass whipping of titanic proportions. It wasn’t even close. Eli fucking wrecked shop. Period.

The judges and your boy Marv-O, who can still be seen getting his grope on for some reason, seem to agree with me and it looks like Eli is on his way to hip hop superstardom.

Judges, your verdict?

The Bus seems to concur with me in the conclusion that Eli killed it and Envy was kinda booty. He gives it up for Eli and agrees that young Mister Porter did indeed step up and represent.

Next up, J-Dub (the willing recipient of that creepy fondling by his boy Marv-O, whom we now all recognize is wild homo) proceeds to dump an entire 55 gallon drum full of hatorade on top of my man Eli by stating that he thought that Envy was the better competitor, and that he held it down and made no mistakes, unlike Eli, who faltered just a smidge. 

The last judge, Action Jackson himself, delivers the final judgement, the vote that will ultimately decide who has spit hotter fire here today. Action Jackson at this point bafflingly refers to himself as “814″ instead of his previously mentioned moniker, which pales in comparison to the utterly ridiculous line he delivers to defend his final verdict, which is a vote for Envy, making it 2 to 1 in favor of the wackness over the reallness. To justify his vote, peep out this all time classic: “Both of them did good, but I give it Envy because he did great!”

HUH? Are you fucking kidding me? What a fucking dipshit this guy is. Not only is he wrong in stating that Envy was even remotely better than Eli, how fucking weak and ridiculous is that final quote?

He did great?

Shut the fuck up, Steven. I hate you.

Everybody knows Eli got fucking straight up gaffled, and if you think otherwise, well then I hate you too.

Stoopsology.

Clown gear was hella cheap!

I was so stoked on the Sesame Street all over print hoody, I bought every one they had in stock. Oh wait, no I didn’t, I fucking took out a lighter and set them all on fire. I wish.

Hook up your whole kit for peanuts! Miso peanuts in your mouth if you rock shit like this.

It must be rad to not give a fuck like these two.

The illest spot to cop your clown suits and big red shoes.

There’s really no escape, just go with it.

Kiss my size 17 Ronald McDonald red clown shoes.

I would have paid top yen to see this shit live.

Skatepark rules. You can’t read this shit but the illustrations are hot fire.

That’s what you get for riding a bike with no brakes, ya trendy motherfucker. Maybe your messenger bag will break your fall though.

Cool little skatepark rat.

Another one.

Getting into some hi-jinx.

COBRA BIT MY EYE!

All types of herbs.

Get your E-bombs here.

Macho men puff on these.

Hip hop hooligans suck these down like Coca-Cola.

Locals get mad brunted with these.

The be-all, and end-all smokes that you’ll ever need.

Lip my stocking.

Maybe inappropriate, but they don’t know any better over there.

Hey Japan: please keep sending over cute, tanned, bodyboarder chicks with nice asses. Thanks!

Nihon surf spot shredding guide.

This might just be the coolest dude that I ran across the entire time I was there.

I don’t even know how to begin breaking down how fucking ill this guy’s whole steelo is.

COBRA BIT MY EYE AGAIN! I PLAY WRONG TUNE!

I got something for these chicks, it’s not super limited and it definitely ain’t exclusive.

Another live event that I would have killed to people-watch at, regardless of admission price.

THE MOST BALLER SHIT EVER!!!!

Honestly, dudes. Stop it already.

I tawt I taw a fucking retard!

Throw it down, black man! Throw it dowwwwwn!

It’s a sad world after all, it’s a sad, sad, world.

People really rock shit like this.

And not one of them have even a single mirror in their (parent’s) homes.

I skated a super sick pool in this t-shirt, and then I committed hairi-kiri.

These Supreme shirts cost more than my plane ticket over.

Supreme already knows exactly how I feel about them.

These fucking stupid things were 350 dollars each. Total bargain for retards. I would have loved to have ripped one down off of the wall, put griptape on it, slapped on some trucks and wheels, taken it outside the shop, put it down on the sidewalk and then focused it with one mighty Godzilla-like stomp in front of all of the hundreds of non-skateboarding idiots lined up outside for even the mere chance of buying one.

I’d stand in line for this shit, though.

Snacks and Brewsky’s!

Trendy smoke shit.

I got something for you girls to smoke right here.

They were balling in Osaka.

Gotta throw a few skate shots in.

Hiding in the jungle.

Oh, I gets mine. Believe that.

Faster than a speeding bullet.

Cultural drive-by, Kyoto.

Brenda’s been killing the modeling game over there since even before the first time I went to Japan in 1995. Still getting covers! Hawaiians always represent.

They copy all of the good shit over there.

Bonsai real big at the airport.

Sayonara, suckers!

Word to Dr. Octagon!

This is how I do it in Osaka, baby.

Backside for you one time and then you can get these takoyaki balls!

Just got back from Japan, the greatest country on the planet, bar none.

This was my ninth trip there and by far this was the illest journey of them all.

Just a full fledged skate mission from beginning to end, and non-stop good times.

Extensive coverage coming soon over at hirollingmedia.com, and also don’t forget to check out the all new downwithapb.com, now fully revamped and juiced up just in time for spring training.

March Madness, baby!
It’s a beautiful thing.

Thanks to The Tight Sag for bringing this insane piece of work to light.

This issue features a Hawaii article with some insanely nice photos by my man Atiba Jefferson and horrificially concoted text by me, myself, and I.

Look for APB team riders Jarold Webb, Kaikea Kimura, Danny Hamaguchi, and Aaron Lee getting busy in this issue. The shit came out really nice, and I’m super stoked to have been able to contribute to the best skateboarding publication on the planet once again. Thanks, Kevin and Atiba! Aloha.