Another day to see and be, a day of opportunity, a day for me to make my plea, a day to prove this comes E Z to me.
Rappin’ and clappin’ , creating a song, keep the words coming, doesn’t take too long, waxin’ and wanin’ is where I belong.
How can I make it more complicated? That’s what I’m sittin’ here contemplatin’…am told I’m too old to really solicit, lines and words that are really explicit…not in a Hurt way or Dirt way at all, just no “yo’s” or “yolos” allowed to fall.
See, I’m middle-aged, just a white old lady, hardly in the league with the great Slim Shady, but that don’t mean that my words ain’t weighty.
Okay, the English teacher in me, won’t allow me to be, up with the “ain’t” that gets dropped for free.
Contractions are actions that need to connect, in proper use and be correct, “ain’t” ain’t a word that you can dissect. What is an “ain” I ask anyway? Language like that should be put away.
So how do you know when a rap’s all done? When the words are laid out, and the sentiments won? When the piece has then reached it’s right conclusion?
Guess it’s a trait, I must learn to relate, before I can take, the slate, and partake in the make, of the right formulate, of a Slim Shady resolution.
Cuz I need to be in it, for at least four minutes, to be in it to win it, concoct it and spin it.
To speak of a cause, a story, a lesson, tell of a pause in confession, profession, to make some point within this session. My reason to be, my purpose and plea, causes me to believe, I must do this, you see.
So it is with sincere respect, I attempt to connect, with the art and the rhythm, that are found here within, my mind and my home, my heart and my soul.
So it’s YOLO, yo, don’t be hatin’ on me. I’m just an old lady tryin’ to set myself free, learnin’ what I can from the boyz on TV.