A Letter From An Aspiring White Rapper to Eminem

• Article by Alex Everard
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• April 12, 2012
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Dear Eminem, 

My name is Scott Stevenson. Better known to my 34 non-familial fans as the up-and-coming hip-hop sensation, “$tud $cott.” I’m writing because I have a bit of a bone to pick with you over the implications your career choices have on the rest of us. By the “rest of us,” I mean other white dudes who want to become rappers.For the purposes of expressing my current emotional state to you, let me ask you this—what the fuck, man? 

Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Let’s start with street credibility. Due to my background, I couldn’t even consider branding myself as a rebellious, white trash, rapid-fire lyricist. I’m conformist, I’m classy, and I enunciate slowly. In the old days,you destroyed the competition at rap battles while holding a 40 oz. and then went back to your trailer after the show to fight with your wife and struggle to raise your child. I know all this because you rapped about it. 

Meanwhile, I’m 23 and live in a suburb called Walnut Ridge. I don’t even have to babysit my six-year-old cousin on a regular basis! My freezer is full of pizza rolls, and everyone in my nuclear family has a Sam’s Club membership.

But it doesn’t stop there. I can’t be a walking political firestorm to gain attention from the media either. Ever since you caused controversy for being homophobic, continued to record homophobic songs, but then somehow got Elton John, the “Queen Elizabeth” of the gay community, to perform YOUR song with you at the Grammys, I have a small hunch that I’d be dwarfed in comparison. Plus, Obama is president now. If I tried taking shots at the White House, it would look a little racist, but mainly just awkward and unnecessary. And not much rhymes with Obamacare. 

Hey, it’s all good though. I can just go for that “drugged-out rap star” image. Oh wait, no. I fucking can’t because you already did that too. Yeah, and considering you actually freakin’ DIED from a drug overdose only to be brought back to life, I don’t think it’s safe for me to even try to compete with you in this realm.

There’s always the sober, misunderstood genius role to play though, right? WRONG. Thanks again, Marshall. Why don’t you make some more songs with Rihanna and record yet another epic comeback album? Fuck it, since you’re off drugs, spend some time going halve-sies on a moon-colony with Jay-Z, and you guys can finish writing Detox in space for Dr. Dre. 

Don’t you see what you’ve done, Slim Shady? You were the first great white rapper. And, in doing so, you’ve fucked the rest of us royally. Why couldn’t you be more like Steve Nash? Why couldn’t you have just stopped after The Eminem Show or even Relapse? Why did you have to be so damn good at being broke and angst-y, then rich and high, then refreshing and sober? You always talked about losing it on your songs…and I wish you actually would. I went to a rap battle in Detroit the other day. No one cared that I was white. I even wore a wife beater, like you did. My more “urban” peers just said, “The early 2000s called and they want their racial stereotypes back.” How am I supposed to break onto the scene based on skill alone? There’s no shock value anymore. Don’t you see what you’ve forced us more “suburban” rappers to do? I’m honestly meeting with my agent today to decide whether to call my next single “Frat Raps and Snapbacks” or “Weed Napz.” Fuck me, right? 

Discouraged and useless, 

$tud$cott