Before fancy graphics, coherent writing, and cultural sensitivity, the world was a badder place. Join us as we remember a time when having three frames of animation for your sprite was a luxury and the only requirement for rescuing the president from ninjas was being sufficiently bad.
In 1993, there were two big problems in the world: urban decay and the fact that the WWF tag team titles were held by the Quebecers. Then Men on a Mission arrived.
Their mission? Bring the belts back to the U.S., and make a positive impact on urban youth. They accomplished their second objective by hanging around in the city and blending in by wearing the splashy purple and gold spandex clothing that early '90s urban youth are best remembered for. Meanwhile, their hype man Oscar would speak in the language of the city: rap.
It's Oscar, y'all
Unfortunately, instead of discussing the problems of gang violence, truancy, or drug use, most of Oscar's verses merely established the names of the M.O.M., reiterated their correct spelling, and reinforced that names that rhymed with their names were incorrect.
"His name's Mo and his name's not Joe!"
A year or two later, Men on a Mission's connection to the street was downplayed after Mabel discovered his regal heritage and began billing himself as King Mabel. It was the day the rap died. With no positive message left to spread, Oscar was laid off. Mo was knighted for his service to the crown.
Jessica Fletcher solves the murder of the show's least sympathetic victim yet––an amusement park CEO who once told her, "Give my seduction a chance before you cry 'rape!'" Yikes. In her spare time, she exposes her niece's young children (we're talking five years old and under) to a very realistic staged medieval hanging.
got rid of his teal gladiatorial outfit and started talking about taking what was his "by any means necessary." After recruiting like-minded individuals such as D'Lo Brown, the Rock, and Mark Henry, Farooq named his new group the Nation of Domination, donned some vaguely African duds, and gave a lot of fist-in-the-air salutes in the middle of the ring.
They were, in all but name, a racially motivated militant group. That's why it's no surprise that these guys were their next recruits:
Wait, what?
The Nation was clearly not worried about street cred when it hired J.C. Ice and Wolfie D, also known as PG-13.
But Farooq, as always, had a plan. J.C. and Wolfie had two jobs: rap while the Nation was walking down to the ring, and serve as meat shields for when Nation foes Ken Shamrock and Ahmed Johnson got their internal bleeding under control and went on a rampage.
Check out PG-13's signature rap below, and for the love of god, don't diss Farooq if you value your mom's health!
The year was 1999. The United States was still reeling from the Lewinsky scandal and President Clinton's narrow escape from impeachment. But worst of all, World Championship Wrestling was suffering a huge rap drought. In the absence of P.N. News, no competitor had even tried to claim the coveted title of Rapmaster. In fact, so few rhymes had been busted over the second half of the decade that some were wondering if WCW would ever truly be funky again.
Enter Master P.
After a spirited performance of his legendary track "Hoody Hoo" on an episode of WCW Monday Nitro, Master P ran afoul of noted rap-hater Curt Hennig while throwing an in-ring birthday party for Silkk the Shocker. Hennig, taking offense that Master P shoved his face in the birthday cake and rejected the black cowboy hat he tried to give Silkk––hey, maybe Silkk would have been into it. Nobody ever asked him!––swore revenge. His plan: create a team of wrestlers called the West Texas Rednecks, despite having the strongest Minnesota accent in pro wrestling history.
Once the Rednecks released their own chart-topper, however, all questions about their geographic legitimacy were soon forgotten. But no one will ever forget "Rap Is Crap."
P countered by recruiting some of the roughest, toughest wrestlers to ever step foot in the ring, including this guy.
Who received a Master P-style makeover, mainly involving sunglasses and a camo hat.
After adding Konnan, Rey Misterio, P's bodyguard Swoll, and something named Chase Tatum, the formation of the No Limit Soldiers was complete, and for what seemed like weeks, they defended the honor of rap music against the West Texas Rednecks, even though Master P never showed his face in the ring again.
By the way, how angry do you think the ghost of Curt Hennig was when Macho Man Randy Savage later eulogized him with a rap song?
When 1991 WCW fans heard the signature cry of "YO BABY YO BABY YO," they knew a couple of things were about to happen. First, they'd be treated to a rap by 400-pound, braided rat-tailed, neon spandex-wearing wrestler P.N. News. And second, they'd be reminded of how News stole the cadence of his signature rap from the far superior "Ninja Rap" by Vanilla Ice from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze.
A self-proclaimed "rapmaster," News never revealed where he did his post-graduate rap studies, and, unfortunately, opponents like Stunning Steve Austin and the One-Man Gang never pushed for answers, so the true story of News' rap tutelage may be lost to time.
One can question his educational background, but one can't accuse News hoarding all the raps for himself. He often lent his flow––which flowed at the speed of a glacier, but flowed nonetheless––to WCW's marketing efforts, as evidenced by this semi-enthusiastic jam about the upcoming Bash at the Beach pay-per-view.
A man is being chased down a road by a ghost car. His two escape options? A vertical rock face to his left, and a dense, car-proof forest to his right. Obviously, he tries to scale the rock face, fails and is run over. Jessica Fletcher solves the case after logging the new high score on Spy Hunter at the grocery store.
