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What's been on his mind lately, however, is how to strike a balance between the two. His future success demands it. It's half of a duplex in a tree-lined subdivision of identical dwellings off rd Street in Overland Park. As if to reinforce the stereotype of his neighbors as blackophobic retirees, the condo is equipped with a security TV that shows the distinctly un-crime-ridden street outside.

After his mother died, Mac says, his sister bought her car. But it was just worth it, it was worth it to keep her, because there's so many artifacts about that place that reminded me of her. He keeps the first floor and upstairs tidy, and he does most of his writing in the living room on a big, new sofa, also purchased from his mother's estate. The basement, however, is a disaster, littered with CDs and debris and equipped with not only the filthiest bathroom in the 'hood but also the only recording studio.

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The portal to this room is a partly demolished door that's a few well-placed blows from splintering completely. It's the victim of Mac's frustrated outbursts after a scene that repeats itself too often: When he has to start over, the door pays. He recorded his latest album, next year's The result sounds anything but lo-fi. It represents the first time that Mac was paid to record, but it's also the document of a musical career that began when he was just another rambunctious adolescent growing up in suburban Kansas. Don't get him wrong, though.

I wasn't it. But I still loved the angst, like Public Enemy coming out and just, you know, the video clips of the president and burning trash cans and wanting to rebel. For Mac, hip-hop channeled anger and disaffection more potently and effectively than any other form of music. Rappers in the early days were smart and didn't mince words.

Only in recent years has the genre become a platform for that paradox of the rich thug, who raps about selling drugs and waves his diamond jewelry in the air as women rub against the hood of his borrowed Bentley. Even though hip-hop was an African-American, urban movement, Mac was captivated by these artists' ability to blend hard-life stories and over-the-top personas.

His first idols were the Wu-Tang Clan, a mysterious pack of hardcore rappers who, in their rhymes, overlaid onto the streets of New York City a fantasy world based on Japanese kung fu films. What intrigued him about the Wu-Tang Clan, he says, was that they were like comic-book characters out of the slums of New York who knew martial arts and sold drugs and got laid all the time.

Mac might not have been watching gun battles outside his window, but he did endure the emotional war of his parents' divorce. Both used him as a weapon. Mac says that his father, with whom he's now reconciled, felt it would be better for him to pursue college and a career than to try to become a rapper. But school never worked out for him. In fact, Mac could write a guidebook to the area's academies for at-risk youth.

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He attended Kemper Military School, Broadmoor Technical Center, Maur Hill Prep School in Atchison from which he was kicked out for selling drugs, something he says he did ineptly , and Horizons the Shawnee Mission district's alternative-education high school , which he dropped out of in his senior year to take a job selling satellite dishes.

Often, that resulted in blows. Mac's left eye seems to blink on a slightly delayed circuit, the result of getting clocked in the face by a stone-wielding rival during his last year of school. Every knuckle on his right fist has been broken. He also has a felony on his record for a fight that went down at a party when, he says, some skinheads showed up.

They had a desperation that they felt, and I think they were just the product of not being informed that there was a way out of it, and they turned to drugs and crime and stuff, and that pissed me off. No one was communicating to them that there was hope, that there was a way out of this. Instead, he says, they were just listening to television. And that kind of pissed me off once I realized that I was being spoon-fed a bunch of shit.

Mac says he could've been a punk rocker, but he happened to like hip-hop's beats, rhymes and mystique. I would be like, 'Dude, I'll give you five fuckin' dollars that I made mowing lawns if you would just rap for me. Soon, Mac started to do the same. It definitely wasn't a well-chosen name for a white rhymer seeking to break into Kansas City's underground hip-hop scene, which was ruled by black and Latino MCs.

But before long, it was too late to change his handle. Mac started getting noticed. Mac Lethal's journey to national status parallels the rise of Kansas City's underground hip-hop scene. It began with scrappy, battling freestylers claiming their territory at raves and in the few-and-far-between venues that would book rap shows.

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Gradually, it formed into a community of independent recording artists. It was a different crowd from the jersey-wearing, gang-signing MTV mimickers whose albums are stocked at 7th Heaven on Troost. It's not Fat Tone, and it's not Tech N9ne. The beats aren't as hard, and the rhymes aren't about life in the 'hood. It began as a movement led by eclectic DJs and college-educated rappers, and it was made viable by business-savvy independent labels such as Rhymesayers, Anticon and Stones Throw.

Sean Hunt, who MCs as Approach, was one of the first in the scene to recognize Mac's skills and, eventually, befriend him. In , he released the funky, live-sounding Ultra-Proteus on his fledgling Datura imprint.

Over the years, he has become Lawrence's mike-rocking hero for his charismatic and uplifting performances. But it wasn't easy getting crowds out to hear rappers spouting social commentary, no matter how dope the beats were. So Approach and his comrades laid aside their messages and took up the fireworks of battle MCing, an intellectually challenging and crowd-pleasing practice that pitted rappers against each other in freestyle clashes of wits, insults and rhymes. I was more a groove guy, a melody man, a vibe guy. He was raw, like a razor blade that could throw itself.

Even though they exchanged disses and left each other in shame before growing crowds, Approach and Mac Lethal became friends. As their scene grew, Hunt helped Mac rein in his aggressive, offensive style so that audiences would find him more appealing. You have to give it to them in small chunks. In , Lethal landed a spot at Cincinnati's Scribble Jam, a national meetup of break dancers, graffiti artists, DJs and MCs, all sparring against one another for trophies and recognition.

Scribble Jam was, and remains, the unofficial Olympics of the independent hip-hop scene. A video from the early rounds that year shows a painfully boyish Mac paired against a towering, hefty black rapper named Cashmere, who looks like he could crush the little Kansan in a bear hug. Showing no signs of intimidation, Mac takes the microphone and tears into Cashmere, rattling off caustic put-downs.

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With that line, Cashmere's bid for the title goes down like the Hindenburg. Mac lost in the final round of Scribble Jam to a nerdier, faster-thinking kid named Adeem, but Mac's second-place status made him a shoo-in for the even bigger Scribble Jam, at which he fought his way to first place. For some time, he'd been trying to endear himself to a group called Atmosphere, the flagship act on Rhymesayers. After proving himself at Scribble Jam and pestering Atmosphere's leader, Mac earned himself an opening slot on some of the group's tour dates. Mac began touring constantly, sometimes with fellow locals Approach and SoundsGood's Joe Good, and sometimes by himself on a Greyhound bus with a suitcase full of merch and round-trip fare to New York City or Chicago.

On the road over the years, he managed to peddle 4, copies of his next record, The Love Potion Collection. He also got the attention of a Spin writer, who listed Lethal among the magazine's who's who of "the emo-rap revolution. Despite Mac's success, however, the organizers of Scribble Jam this time held in a vast outdoor arena wouldn't let him on the stage except as a battler. Mac was pitted against newcomers full of piss and fire to try for an award he no longer cared about.

He took the stage drunk, but still ripped his way through the rookies to a second-place finish. More important than placing at the biggest Scribble Jam ever, though, was that he finally had obtained an audience with Rhymesayers president and CEO Brent "Siddiq" Sayers, who had been watching Mac grow.

Siddiq was ready to listen to Mac. If you're down motha fucka then throw your hands up Get loose in the club we're gonna tear the party up Get Crunk! Fishizzle my nizzle got these fuckin brizzles all up in my mizzle like a fuckin grizzle Get off my grizzle girl, You got all these fuckin hoes all up in my face. Shut the FUCK up with that shit. Lets put your motha fuckin crowns up, Fishizzle like this. I cant work facebook cuz im to dumb cuz im to dumb Im kinda dumb All I want for breakfast is coke and rum is Coke and rum is Coke and rum I wish I could fuck Kim Kardashian Kardashian Is that Even how you say her name?

I guess Someone please pass me an asprin pass an asprin an asprin! I dont give a fuck about politics about politics about politics Everything all one big ball of shit Man its all about some motherfuckin bull shit! Black Clover! DrLyrics Toggle letters. Drake Nice For What.

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