Vomitspit - Nas

"Lightning, hits the top of the church steeple when I'm writing

Semi-automatic no hyphen.....it's frighting...." - Thief's Theme

Nasir Jones on his prolific scripts.

"try to write up in a house with no lights, you'll understand it" - Gibbs

"Bitch i'm ten toes in it

Not a fake a fascade or a cloned image

Got into rap the same way I jumped in the streets, with my own spinach

Tryna get straight up off this shit just so I can go on living

No songs spinning so I resort to the zone flipping

Something must be wrong with him he taking this shit for granted

Try to write up in a house with no lights, you'll understand it

I can't teach you how to dougie but I can teach ya bout this thuggin, keep thorough keep your mouth closed nigga, keep it 100."

When I decide to quit my 9 to 10 job and work towards tenure at an acclaimed university in the arts - in the syllabus in the area of the power of flow there will be time for students to listen to a few Freddie Gibbs songs.  Dude is somewhat infectious with his.

BTW, it is easy to dismiss dudes who "flow" as being not very lyrical, or all about "swagger" however think about the sheer volume of underground and or backpack who, despite raw as lyrics and content, suffer from a lack of flow.


Freddie Gibbs - The Coldest from LaundroMatinee on Vimeo.

Third Person - Madvillain

Most raps are written in first person. Many rappers are most comfortable with writing stories using the "I" point of view. However I wish that more would spit in third person. As a narrator/author it gives more freedom and flexibility to tell a story because you are not bound to using yourself as part of the action.

Additionally, I have always felt that first person raps force some rappers to pretend that their rhymes are actual true personal narratives. Giving some separation between the art, and the artist depersonalizes it and allows you to go in more directions.

Anyway read while listening. 

Villain'll hold the mic like he's mean and his tummy hurt

In a clean pair, ripped jeans and a bummy shirt

Wonderin would you clap your hands if he was friendly

Dapper Dan dipped in pretend to be Fendi

and gold sellin

No tellin

slap a fan hand down, tell 'em "no yellin"

DOOM- all capitals, no trick spellin

Got what it take to get it through your thick melon

(Woopwoosh!) Fresh witty city skits

When he get wreck, pretty emcees catch titty fits

Told them call the cops, just don't hold your breath for the ball to drop

Better yet, hold on to your halter top

Kept reppin, steppin in hotta

Ignoring pigs like Bigs Top Shotta

Surviver of a live crew, not out to jive you

It stings when he laugh when he at the bank drive-thru

Wylin', get me every red penny

Sold a lonely only child an imaginary enemy

When he sees the mask and the microphone gizmo

He's the broke host this is like his own quiz show

This go out to all my brothers doin long bids and sisters

Who got brothers bein fathers to the wrong kids

Stay strong and ride like the funky flute

Won't find the Villain in the street inside no monkey suit

Or either at the bar in no gorilly bra

Nor raceway park scoring on no silly car

Ask the stranger he knows who you really are

Behind the mask face stay dark, no boring willy star

Gleaming, dreaming, screaming- he'll be off the heezy soon

Cunning live rats drive at your steaming greasy spoon

In participating places tip your waitress'

A sure fire way to wire, trip the matrices

Skip ya laces, all black tennis miniature

Ball stack, gall tall pack, Guinness minister

Tussle the hustle, cut your dank with dirt

Won't be in the club in a muscle tank shirt

You could find 'em in the pub with the grub stain

Chuggin on a small tub of pain to his bugged brain

Sane, some say he plum crazy

Amazed at how he still get paid but dumb lazy

That's for him to know and for you to guess

Won't be caught in a suit vest at no computer desk

A suede front, maybe may stunt khaki dig

Not in no braids or no lace-front yaki wig