Must get music out there and show lyrical prowess to all the people that haven’t heard my sound yet. What will people think? Honestly, I can’t care. Spitting is my outlet, I need to have my mouth spread my rhymes ‘cause my talent of writing’s an asset. Hesistant to share my raps ‘cause truth is I am scared of messing up my lines. I throw in the towel when fears try to make me quit. Now I must attack them. I can’t get success and receive fat cheques for my penmanship unless I spit in crowded areas, where I am utterly surrounded. If mind was doubtless, potential would be boundless. Performing is a challenge, but cortex just can’t rest. Once I drop a song, I think of what to rap next. I make rhymes and bank them like Santander or NatWest. Spitting’s the PIN code to have sick flows accessed. Went into public and rapped at my loudest. No one stopped and stared or laughed when my attempt failed, didn’t finish song. At the time, was mad vexed. Now I know what happens, gonna do it again. Built it up in my head, the world would burn and end if wording wasn’t perfect. People go about their business, if they dig it, they’ll stop and crowd around then. Or I could just go and politely ask them if they wanna hear me spit lyrics that I’ve crafted. Thing is, I never know. I might astound them and wow them but can’t tell unless I test my chances. Gotta take a few risks to resume my ascent. I can’t give up now ‘cause the time I have spent writing would’ve wasted many hourglasses. Need courage to get past this cowardly aspect of psyche, anxiety, that makes my mind have dread towards the mere idea of yelling out text. Doubts are bloodsuckers like a count or countess. They drain your confidence even when it lacks sense. Yeah, it’s illogical but the feeling has strength. But by the time I decide to have my raps said, I’ve rehearsed and repped the song until I can’t get it out head. It’s ingrained, that’s how much I spout them. Do I have many fans? No, I haven’t found them. Why? I only rhyme where I have a mattress. Man, just have to act less anxious, I can’t guess how things will turn out. I just have to act then see what transpires when I respire trapped breaths. Ambitions, I have them. There’s an untapped strength I get when I grab pens and channel the sadness, anger and anguish I have felt throughout ex- istence. I spit to be clear, transparent. I wish to transcend the barriers that fence me in this prison of angst. To pass them, would make me feel like the absolute proudest man to have stepped to the mic. I’m out there.
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Must get music out there and show lyrical prowess to all the people that haven’t heard my sound yet. What will people think? Honestly, I can’t care. Spitting is my outlet, I need to have my mouth spread my rhymes ‘cause my talent of writing’s an asset. Hesistant to share my raps ‘cause truth is I am scared of messing up my lines. I throw in the towel when fears try to make me quit. Now I must attack them. I can’t get success and receive fat cheques for my penmanship unless I spit in crowded areas, where I am utterly surrounded. If mind was doubtless, potential would be boundless. Performing is a challenge, but cortex just can’t rest. Once I drop a song, I think of what to rap next. I make rhymes and bank them like Santander or NatWest. Spitting’s the PIN code to have sick flows accessed. Went into public and rapped at my loudest. No one stopped and stared or laughed when my attempt failed, didn’t finish song. At the time, was mad vexed. Now I know what happens, gonna do it again. Built it up in my head, the world would burn and end if wording wasn’t perfect. People go about their business, if they dig it, they’ll stop and crowd around then. Or I could just go and politely ask them if they wanna hear me spit lyrics that I’ve crafted. Thing is, I never know. I might astound them and wow them but can’t tell unless I test my chances. Gotta take a few risks to resume my ascent. I can’t give up now ‘cause the time I have spent writing would’ve wasted many hourglasses. Need courage to get past this cowardly aspect of psyche, anxiety, that makes my mind have dread towards the mere idea of yelling out text. Doubts are bloodsuckers like a count or countess. They drain your confidence even when it lacks sense. Yeah, it’s illogical but the feeling has strength. But by the time I decide to have my raps said, I’ve rehearsed and repped the song until I can’t get it out head. It’s ingrained, that’s how much I spout them. Do I have many fans? No, I haven’t found them. Why? I only rhyme where I have a mattress. Man, just have to act less anxious, I can’t guess how things will turn out. I just have to act then see what transpires when I respire trapped breaths. Ambitions, I have them. There’s an untapped strength I get when I grab pens and channel the sadness, anger and anguish I have felt throughout ex- istence. I spit to be clear, transparent. I wish to transcend the barriers that fence me in this prison of angst. To pass them, would make me feel like the absolute proudest man to have stepped to the mic. I’m out there.
try to memorize your lyrics before you record it allows you tontome yourself better and deliver and develop a cadence. think of your favorite rappers and how they have swagger and flow. develop a sound foe yourself. by memorizing your bars 1st Slime 🤝 Slime 🤝 CAKE 🍰 CAKE 🍰 Bars: Perfect 💯 Delivery: Perfect 💯 Impression: Perfect 💯
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Bars: Perfect 💯 Delivery: Perfect 💯 Impression: Perfect 💯
Bars: Perfect 💯 Delivery: Perfect 💯 Impression: Perfect 💯
Bars: Perfect 💯 Delivery: Perfect 💯 Impression: Perfect 💯
Bars: Perfect 💯 Delivery: Perfect 💯 Impression: Perfect 💯