Yes, i wrote this when i was drunk.
It's The Legendary Dojo of the Flow where those with Mojo go.
A steaming drunk sensei staggers into a training room with a bottle of vodka in his hand, to the amusement of several of the students. He belches loudly and moves, eventually, to the centre of the room where a microphone hangs from the cieling by a wire. He grunts, grips the device and turns it on.
"Pay attention! Stop sniggering you fucks or i'll stomp the daylights out of you!"
He stops and takes another swig of the bottle.
"Ahhhh, oh shit. Okay... umm.. where was i? Oh yeah. Today's lesson is drunken boxing. It involves ultolis... utilias... umm... u-til-i-sing an inherbre... inhibi.... erm.. pissed state to build on creativity and multis. Like so..."
A beats kicks in and, half-unconscious, the sensei holds the cordless.
I’m straight drunky, staggering with senseless thoughts
A dreadnaught that extorts, was cut and bled chalk
I like it raw, fight for more with animal type of roars
Biting whores, smite with fours, plus ignite a war
My visions blurry, I’m locked up, imprisoned in cemeteries
All livid eventually, my wisdom’s forever buried
Head severed from my body, yet still is blinking oddly
Speak prophesy’s that be godly, listeners get big ears like noddy
I power up like mushrooms, fire flowers and stars
Double my size, set fires, invincibly power through bars
Speak with towering art, never stuck to babble
Remaining unrattled ferocious in rapbattles
Jaw’s break, traps shatter like caught superhuman mice
With more weight, I snap, splatter anyone who moves me twice
A lunatic who sooner picks, neglected crackers and groovy spics
And dope blacks so move with this, verses are luminous
The sensei breaks off to down what's left of the bottle in his hand and then loses his balance. His fist still grips the mic which he moves back to his mouth.
"Get to the bar immediately! And i expect to hear some fucking multi's afterwards! Go!!!"
The students cheer and run from the room. Thus concludes another of the dojo's chapters.