"Layin like a gay model... - Ghostface Killah"

Getting my students to spend time on developing the characters in their stories is like pulling teeth. Some of them simply lack the ability to write descriptively while others don't see the value in it. What I tell them is that it is the characters that pull us into stories and movies. Good writers use description that allows the reader to love, hate, envy characters. We can envision them. Movies however have the benefit of the viewer being able to see the clothing, gestures, and disposition of the actors while prose does not have that benefit.

While there are many great story tellers in Hip-Hop music, one of the greatest is Ghostface Killah of the Wu-Tang Clan. One of the things that separates him from the others is his intense dedication to character development in his writing.

This is exemplified on a song titled "Malcolm" from his second solo album Supreme Clientele. Ghost not only spends time describing individuals, but damn near uses the entire first verse exclusively for it.



 Before the song is done we know about this characters morals...
"Fake ass cat , low life , sodomize mind, Beatin niggas , big bricks of bread, sell'em as dimes"

His business acumen
"His feet hurt/network, and he get no work"

His toughness/ego
"Did two days thought he was jailin"

His walk
"slew footed kid"

His health
"heartburn for life , calcium man/Watch him grab the Tums), ( seen him at the tunnel with his skin peelin"

His idiosyncrasies
"Yo he sucked his thumb"

His fortitude
"You get close/look at his hands/That's the same kid that cut his wrists , talkin bout the cuffs did it"

His weight class (figurative and or literal)
"He Bantam weight /frontin majorly"

Diet (and or religion)
"He eat ham/shitted on himself twice"

Grooming habits
"back of his neck he had sores"

And finally, his sartorial shortcomings
"he sport the Bob Hope classics/Ran down Asics/Kmart , the short sleeve shit, be the basics"

Just read and listen...Ghost is that deal........!





Ayo
I'm like Malcolm
out the window with the joint
Hoodied up blood in my eye , I let two fly Like fuck it [2 gunshots]
look how these niggas duck shit
One kid hollerin "what" lookin up , he the big wig
Fake ass cat , low life , sodomize mind
Beatin niggas , big bricks of bread, sell'em as dimes
His feet hurt
network and he get no work
Yo smack him where his hand hurt , fuck what he worth
Yo he sucked his thumb,
slew footed kid laced with the pink gums
Stuntin to my Baltimore niggas that he on the run
Plus he ill on the drums , heartburn for life , calcium man
Watch him grab the Tums
he's a front
Pigeon toed (some chics name) sister with the fat ass
Sold hash for hize up the block plus he smashed her
Big Buck did him somethin deadly , act premedidtated
Buck 60 strike was the medley
Nice like Van Halen
seen him at the tunnel with his skin peelin
Did two days thought he was jailin
You get close
look at his hands
That's the same kid that cut his wrists , talkin bout the cuffs did it
He Bantam weight
frontin majorly
eyes like Sammy Davis jr., Rounded off with a fade g ,
he sport the Bob Hope classics
Ran down Asics ,
Kmart , the short sleeve shit be the basics
He eat ham
shitted on himself twice
big hatted Jews
Rushed the nigga out in Crown Heights

[CHORUS:]
Yo let me tell you how the game go
We gettin rid of all the prostitutes
Tony wants the streets back fo sho
Too many hustlers , too many thieves
We're fuckin up who's willin to fight and teach the seeds
Too much TV , guns and robberies
Lust and greed and hate the 4 devils jealousy


Yo I champ punched Mase in his face over some bullshit the other night
they kidnapped his brother pokin it with knives
It's rainin ,
85 degrees kinda muggy
One of them nights you throw on that face, that's real ugly
Yo we up in Jonesy's posin ,
all these niggas know me
From fuckin wit ,
Un and theses niggas heavy parolees
Yo we played the speaker
And from a distance we could see these chains
The piece layed , flat on his chest , was two plains
Ashy hands yo , no need for rings at all
He just cracked the V8
backed up
leaned against the wall
Look at Flower ,
he just came home , he on like a fuck
Did a dime for holdin up the gods up in the armored truck
Ten years later son 280 on the weight tip
He throwin up six plates plus he studied Matrix
He's a wally horse
shout it out sweatin through his valor
Cock-eyed nigga
back of his neck he had sores
Sammy eagerly rode up on him , toxi off the turkey with the joint on him
Flower look his man stood up before him
The bitches hit the table , Jahkem reached
stripped off his cables
Shots went off
Sam'll get a chance to make his debut
Flower grabbed Tiff
his man with the sideburns hat fell off
We noticed wigworms , he hid behind Rich
C-Allah hit the light switch , young girls were trampled in the mens room pool , pistol with Mase and broke the handle
Desperate crawlin to the door on all fours
Sam kicked the jukebox the theme song rode in was "It's Yours"
Oh my goodness
Ba grabbed the Mo bottle thrashin
He layin like a gay model shoutin out Sebastian
He smiled with his teeth missin
begging for mercy
"No more god , the 68 thousand down a pier 3"
Out came the cannon , whistled out zaggin
Sam snatched his flag four big rocks enter the dragon
It's over , another story told
Lyin with the snakes , tongue kissin cobras