“Round two!” Hype announces. “Milez, since you won round one, you decide who goes first.”
 He cheeses. “I got this.”
 “Let's take it old school then!” says Hype.
 He scratches the records and the beat starts. “Deep Cover,” by Snoop and Dre. He wasn't kidding about the old school. That was the first song Snoop ever did.
 The old heads in the gym go crazy. Some of the young ones seem confused. Milez doesn't look at me when he raps, like I'm no longer relevant.
 Yo, they call me the prince,
 I ain't new to this game.
 Been plotting for years
 And I can't be tamed.
 You can call me a G,
 Your son wish he was me,
 And every girl with a pulse
 Falls inevitably.
 I get money,
 Like it's going out of style.
 All my whips brand new.
 I got Jordan on the dial.
Rule numero uno of battling? Know your opponent's weakness. Nothing he's spit this round is directed at me. That may not seem like a red flag, but right now it's a huge one. I blanked. A real MC would go for the kill because of that. Hell, I'd go for it. He's not even mentioning it. That means there's a 98 percent chance this is prewritten.
 Prewritten is a no-no in the Ring. A bigger no-no? Prewritten by someone else.
 I don't know if he wrote those lines, maybe he did, but I can make everyone think he didn't. Dirty as hell? Absolutely. But since my dad isn't off-limits, not a damn thing is off-limits.
 Rule number two of battling – use the circumstances to your advantage. Supreme doesn't look too worried, but trust: He should be.
 That goes in my arsenal.
 Rule number three – if there's a beat, make sure your flow fits it like a glove. Flow is the rhythm of the rhymes, and every word, every syllable, affects it. Even the way a word is pronounced can change the flow. While most people know Snoop and Dre for “Deep Cover,” one time I found a remake of it by this rapper named Big Pun on YouTube. His flow on this song was one of the best I've ever heard in my life.
 Maybe I can mimic it.
 Maybe I can wipe that dumb smirk off Milez's face.
 Maybe I can actually win.
 Milez stops, and the beat fades off. He gets a couple of cheers, but not many. The Ring loves punch lines, not weak lines about yourself.
 “Okay, I hear you,” Hype says. “Bri, your go!”
 My ideas are spread out like puzzle pieces. Now I gotta put them all together into something that makes sense.
 The beat starts again. I nod along. There's nothing but me, the music, and Milez.
 The words have strung themselves together into rhymes and into a flow, and I let it all come tumbling out. [...]
 Here I am, going at him as if I don't have any manners. Manners. A lot of words rhyme with that if I deliver them right. Cameras. Rappers. Pamper. Hammer – MC Hammer. Vanilla Ice. Hip-hop heads consider them pop stars, not real rappers. I can compare him to them.
 I gotta get my signature line in there – you can only spell “brilliant” by first spelling Bri. Aunt Pooh once pointed that out right before teasing me about being such a perfectionist.
 Perfection. I can use that. Perfection, protection, election. Election – presidents. Presidents are leaders. Leader. Either. Ether, like that song where Nas went in on Jay-Z.
 I need to get something in there about his name too. Milez. Miles per hour. Speed. Light speed. Then I need to end with something about myself. Milez lowers the mic. [...]
 So I take it.
 My apologies, see, I forgot my manners.
 I get on the mic 'cause it's my life. You show off for girls and cameras.
 You a pop star, not a rapper. A Vanilla Ice or a Hammer.
 Y'all hear this crap he dumping out? Somebody get him a Pamper.
 And a crown for me. The best have heard about me.
 You can only spell “brilliant” by first spelling Bri.