Beyond being crude, vulgar, racist, homophobic, misogynist, and non-melodious, rap doesn’t help engender memories. The continuing crime of rap “music” is that it is rendering a generation of listeners bereft of the types of melodic memories that enhanced the lives of their parents and grandparents.
One night, I had nothing to do, so to prove how mindless it is and how little creativity rap music requires, I wrote eight rap “songs” as disgusting as anything that Cardi B says. It only takes about seven minutes for each (real artistry!). Here is a very, very “cleaned-up” version of one of the eight
by Jeff Davidson
I’m nearly feeling fine, so it is the time to whine.
In a world of opportunity, I’ll pretend there’s none I see.
Instead, I’ll bitch and moan in syncopated groans
You wouldn’t be crazy, if you called me lazy,
but with all the flying B.S., the situation now is hazy.
I left the path to learning science or math;
these are nerdy courses that just incur my wrath.
I’m a rap artist, it’s plain to see.
If you don’t ‘preciate my poetry, I’ll bust you in the knee.
I’m feeling kinda funky, not too spunky,
in a land of opportunity, I’ll pretend there’s none for me.
I’ll fuss and holler, and hustle for a dollar.
It simply does amaze me, to get a job is crazy.
Spouting leftist rhetoric, I want to be like Jay-Z.
I’m so off the path, my mind is close to ‘daft.’
Excel in academics? Get lost, you make me laugh.
I’m a famous rap artist, as anyone can tell.
If you don’t ‘preciate my artistry, f-you and go to hell.
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This article by Jeff Davidson originally appeared on PolitiCrossing.com and is republished with permission. ©All rights reserved.
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