[The feed flicks on to show a somewhat determined looking Dave. His eyebrows quirk for a moment before he seems satisfied with something.]

Alright, so this place is kind of lame and I figure it's my personal job to kickstart the un-lame-ing, so I'm officially challenging anyone in Asgard with rhythm and balls to a rap off. Don't worry, y'all. I'll spit you a nice example to get the ball rolling.

[He shakes out his shoulders and puts one hand to his chest and the other to his stomach. He begins patting out a beat and bobbing his head before taking a slow breath in.]

(Hey, watch my mouth.)
First name Dave, last name Strider, I'm
The temporarily temporally estranged god of time
  Turnin' tracks, spinnin' beats
  While y'all punks kiss my feets.
  Take a minute, take ya seats
  While my tongue drops these treats.

(Yup.)
(Let it run a sec.)

(Alright, go.)
Chasin' paper, gettin' boonbucks.
Check these fake gods. Don't give no fucks.(What?)

(What?)
Yeah, I said it.
Finna put that shit up on my blog.
Have y'all read it? (Nah.)
  Alright, well hit it up, it's some clever shiiiiit.
  And I'mma keep on bein funny for a little biiiiit.

(Alright, I'mma bounce,)

But I'mma stick around,
max my swag, do my time
and I'mma pass this mic
And y'all gon bust some weak ass rhymes.


What.