#1
Ok, so my buddies got studio time to record a mixtape, and they offered me 3 slots to ghostwrite for them, so I'm gonna send them this and see how they like it. This is a rap, just to clear everything up. Don't bother posting any feedback if it's about how rap sucks because I honestly don't care.

Up early, at 7 o 'clock// Get up, get dressed, get down and hit the block// Some boys out there hustlin' rock// but for most of the boys out there it's just nothing but talk//

From head to toe, so fresh, so clean// new watch, new chain with a spectacular glean// Fronters want to talk about how they block is mean// but they ain't seen what I seen (they ain't been where I been//

You ain't seen struggle, til you seen a man workin 9 to 5// tryin' to keep his wife, his dog and his three kids alive// Cause real hood hardships don't take place in the trap// or where the guns clap// or where they pack straps// They take place in every house and every home// where the kids always cryin', cause they momma always gone//

Most of what these cat's is spittin is fake// How many trapstars are there in Atlanta for god's sake?// How many nigga's in Harlem are really cooking up drugs// and how many really pack shotty's with them extra large slugs// So if you had to ask me I'd just shrug// Ashamed of my black brothers and how they lie to be loved//

I guess sex, drugs and murder just sell// But you ain't reppin for your people, stuck in personal hell's// The niggas stuck behind them jail cells// With nobody to listen to the stories they tell//

So this goes out to the East Coast, to the west and the south// Young spitter's, please think before you open your mouth// Don't tell tall tales about how you sell crack// about how you have back// and how you make stacks// To be respected, you don't need to be violent// Ya'all yelling a lot, but your still being silent// So later when your writing your rhymes// just take your time// keep this track in your mind// Just write about your moms and how you love her// And not how you sling yayo and roll deep cover


....Yeah.

So feed back if you will.
Comin' straight out of Compton, with a loose cannon. Smoke big green, call it Bruce Banner.

"Hey son, how many girls called you today? Zero? Oh and how about yesterday? Uh... Zero? Well son, you know what they say. Zero plus zero equals FAG."
#2
I think it had a nice message. I know kids that fake all that shit to act cool.
They say the old woman's got the wisdom
'Cause she couldn't read the clock anymore
She said "The numbers don't represent the moments"
Says she don't see what all the ticking's for
#3
i think it delivered a good message. my favorite verse was:
Most of what these cat's is spittin is fake// How many trapstars are there in Atlanta for god's sake?// How many nigga's in Harlem are really cooking up drugs// and how many really pack shotty's with them extra large slugs// So if you had to ask me I'd just shrug// Ashamed of my black brothers and how they lie to be loved//
I dont know if the first few lines fit the general feel of the song. besides that i think it's excellent gj
I've seen emo-er.


Member of the "I am a Fan of Gaycore Wrestle-Metal" Fanclub.
#4
pretty kool
my rig
Squire strat affinity series, chrome red
Fender jazz bass, sunburst
custom made bass, natural (forget who made it)
Roland jazz chorus 50
Boss DS-1 distortion pedal
and I only use purple dunlop tortex picks
#5
That was the best rap I've seen...well...the message at least...there were some parts that seemed really forced to rhyme, but that's not too much of a problem.

The way you posted it pissed me off though. I'd prefer seperate lines rather than slashes...but that isn't a big deal.