Kintsugi
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Hey guys, I found this simple sample beat on YouTube. I've always wanted to try spitting, so here is my first attempt. Not gonna lie, it got a little out of hand and took a good hour or so, but I hope some of you will put in the time to try, because it does feel good.
This is the beat I used:
Let's make some rap beats
I'ma sit in this seat
Let y'all try your hand at rhymin sweet
I've never spit before
But I'm open to walking through that door
I want to see what y'all got to say
So I thought I'd throw up a rhythm
Say, OK,
I know you people is hard
Got it tough if you've got PTSD from the cards
You were dealt before this site
And I promise I won't make light
'Cause so far my shit bites
My own attempts failin' and I'm flailing
I'll slow down, speed up, trying to find my tempo
All right
Here I go
I'ma try to rhyme this shit and when I'm done y'all will feel lit
'Cause my rhymes like toking, get me high when I quit smoking
I'm a disciple with no king
f*ck puttin' snow on a bowl
It's not a rap song without mentioning cocaine
Don't want to be an addicted slave
Birth parents were addled and saddled with three kids
And my perception is with my conception, they conceived an idea to get paid
Even though momma just got re-laid
Asked for three thousand for me and then had another babe
Irish twin born eleven months after I made
It out of the South, up to Jersey, new parents refused to pay
Adopted out of abuse into a cradle of love far away
From my daddy, stupid knave
Where my mother thought I'd be saved
But all that money couldn't get me out this f*cked up cave
My supposed brother raped me before I hit first grade
But it don't matter, right?
I got a college fund
One hundred thousand dollars and then some
My Tennessee siblings got none
Little sister the first to graduate from high school
But at least my three brothers were her guiding suns
Young white guns
Getting booked for barfights and stealin cars
Meanwhile I coulda been on Mars
Eating Mars Bars, my parents never hitting bars
No party scenes
They knew they had a sister
But one woman told me
Your mother must have been nothing but a whore teen
Adopted kids are unwanted mistakes
Your lucky your parents were willing to take
Something your mom never wanted to make
'Cause if she had a coat hanger and a little sense
You'd be nothing but bloody finger paint
Thank god you were taken in by these Jewish saints
Otherwise you'd just be another loser of society
A little taint
f*ck you
My birth mother was almost forty, too
And she wanted to keep me but daddy said
Well we need the money,
Let's sell this bitch
Don't you want to feed the boys, honey?
He beat her into submission, said we'll make the incision
If you don't fulfill my vision of a trailer where I'll keep you locked in the kitchen
You gotta lotta nerve to talk back to me
How you think you're gonna cope
With four kids in a motel
You can't hold down a job
This is the one we're gonna sell
And don't you ever tell
The adoption agent is just a blackmarket hustler
She's just a lady with a Cadillac, nice car nice cards
Printed at Staples on some ivory paper
Where she ran off her license, her certificate
Of bullshit
In selling babies to the white masses
But I'm lucky, you know?
When I was thirteen I took college classes
My siblings were just as brilliant as me
But they got stuck with my wifebeater dad
It's almost funny
I wonder which trauma I would've chosen
If God asked me before he sent my soul to this frozen
Tundra of people who step on each other's heads to breathe, insane
Like the people of the Holocaust on an infinite death train
Look, guys, I got too heavy
Let's just change lanes
I wanted to give you the opportunity to spit some pain
But a minute remains and I feel drained
So let's discuss the politics of rapping
I don't care if I got blue eyes, little white girl
Stupidly slappin together these half-assed rhymes
'Cause this is my past and I'm not afraid
Of putting something up my irregular heart made
Heart beats hard for these rhythms of expression
And I hope you have fun doing a little rap session
'Cause I'm out of breath but this first try is a lesson
In what works and what don't and how you feel after you try
To keep from crying while spitting blood, no lies
My emotional arteries clogged, smoked too much bud
I've gotta get this poison out
Then patch it up with mud
Like a shaman
Send me on a vision quest like a brahman
I don't care if you think I'm bombin
'Cause who among you would rhyme the last verse with French
Yeah, still talkin' about my Maman
You might've slant rhymed, usin' law man
Them is dirty words, locked loaded standing opposite of
The bar man
And that reminds me
The PD just took my real brother from me
Locked him up without charges
And this threw away the key
'Cause without a record how am I supposed to see
Where they booked him
Oh, he's just another tattooed white hillbilly
I guess I better start calling the jails and quit rapping this silly song
And anyway I think the beat's finally gone
This is the beat I used:
Let's make some rap beats
I'ma sit in this seat
Let y'all try your hand at rhymin sweet
I've never spit before
But I'm open to walking through that door
I want to see what y'all got to say
So I thought I'd throw up a rhythm
Say, OK,
I know you people is hard
Got it tough if you've got PTSD from the cards
You were dealt before this site
And I promise I won't make light
'Cause so far my shit bites
My own attempts failin' and I'm flailing
I'll slow down, speed up, trying to find my tempo
All right
Here I go
I'ma try to rhyme this shit and when I'm done y'all will feel lit
'Cause my rhymes like toking, get me high when I quit smoking
I'm a disciple with no king
f*ck puttin' snow on a bowl
It's not a rap song without mentioning cocaine
Don't want to be an addicted slave
Birth parents were addled and saddled with three kids
And my perception is with my conception, they conceived an idea to get paid
Even though momma just got re-laid
Asked for three thousand for me and then had another babe
Irish twin born eleven months after I made
It out of the South, up to Jersey, new parents refused to pay
Adopted out of abuse into a cradle of love far away
From my daddy, stupid knave
Where my mother thought I'd be saved
But all that money couldn't get me out this f*cked up cave
My supposed brother raped me before I hit first grade
But it don't matter, right?
I got a college fund
One hundred thousand dollars and then some
My Tennessee siblings got none
Little sister the first to graduate from high school
But at least my three brothers were her guiding suns
Young white guns
Getting booked for barfights and stealin cars
Meanwhile I coulda been on Mars
Eating Mars Bars, my parents never hitting bars
No party scenes
They knew they had a sister
But one woman told me
Your mother must have been nothing but a whore teen
Adopted kids are unwanted mistakes
Your lucky your parents were willing to take
Something your mom never wanted to make
'Cause if she had a coat hanger and a little sense
You'd be nothing but bloody finger paint
Thank god you were taken in by these Jewish saints
Otherwise you'd just be another loser of society
A little taint
f*ck you
My birth mother was almost forty, too
And she wanted to keep me but daddy said
Well we need the money,
Let's sell this bitch
Don't you want to feed the boys, honey?
He beat her into submission, said we'll make the incision
If you don't fulfill my vision of a trailer where I'll keep you locked in the kitchen
You gotta lotta nerve to talk back to me
How you think you're gonna cope
With four kids in a motel
You can't hold down a job
This is the one we're gonna sell
And don't you ever tell
The adoption agent is just a blackmarket hustler
She's just a lady with a Cadillac, nice car nice cards
Printed at Staples on some ivory paper
Where she ran off her license, her certificate
Of bullshit
In selling babies to the white masses
But I'm lucky, you know?
When I was thirteen I took college classes
My siblings were just as brilliant as me
But they got stuck with my wifebeater dad
It's almost funny
I wonder which trauma I would've chosen
If God asked me before he sent my soul to this frozen
Tundra of people who step on each other's heads to breathe, insane
Like the people of the Holocaust on an infinite death train
Look, guys, I got too heavy
Let's just change lanes
I wanted to give you the opportunity to spit some pain
But a minute remains and I feel drained
So let's discuss the politics of rapping
I don't care if I got blue eyes, little white girl
Stupidly slappin together these half-assed rhymes
'Cause this is my past and I'm not afraid
Of putting something up my irregular heart made
Heart beats hard for these rhythms of expression
And I hope you have fun doing a little rap session
'Cause I'm out of breath but this first try is a lesson
In what works and what don't and how you feel after you try
To keep from crying while spitting blood, no lies
My emotional arteries clogged, smoked too much bud
I've gotta get this poison out
Then patch it up with mud
Like a shaman
Send me on a vision quest like a brahman
I don't care if you think I'm bombin
'Cause who among you would rhyme the last verse with French
Yeah, still talkin' about my Maman
You might've slant rhymed, usin' law man
Them is dirty words, locked loaded standing opposite of
The bar man
And that reminds me
The PD just took my real brother from me
Locked him up without charges
And this threw away the key
'Cause without a record how am I supposed to see
Where they booked him
Oh, he's just another tattooed white hillbilly
I guess I better start calling the jails and quit rapping this silly song
And anyway I think the beat's finally gone
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