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"THE FOREVER STORY": THE INTERSECTION OF SUCCESS AND SELF

I’ve been in a period recently where I’ve been revisiting some music that really captured me rather than actively exploring new albums. One album that has by sheer willpower refused to leave my rotation almost half a year after it initially dropped is “The Forever Story” by Atlanta rapper JID.

 For many, JID has been the next up-and-coming rapper for quite some time now: his features on various soundtracks recently like the Netflix original “Arcane” have placed him in a pivotal point in time for his career. JID by no means holds the household recognition that an artist like Drake or even Kendrick Lamar has, but he’s consistently earning the respect of his contemporaries and establishing himself as a future contender for the best in his generation.

“The Forever Story”, his third album to date, relishes those crossroads perfectly. Equal parts ambitious and humble, the album is ultimately a dedication to his roots --- tracks focus on the influence of his family, his socioeconomic situation growing up in Atlanta --- with the album’s title being an inversion of his first album, “The Never Story”. For every story detailing his origins, there’s another track dedicated to his ambition, his infectious passion for success and a recognition of his newfound status. The album begins with a delicate intro in “Galaxy”, featuring JID and some female vocalists signing sections of lines off his first album’s intro, “Doo Wop”. The attention to his original musical efforts is made visible with this choice, but soon we also are reminded how much has changed since his 2017 release --- Galaxy ends with a voicemail accusing JID of being fake for no longer being so easy to get in contact with. The voicemail itself is a little dramatic so I always interpret that it’s supposed to be taken in good humor, but it does raise a question: how much does success change us, and even if it doesn’t, how much does it warp someone’s view of us?

We’re then brought into the fast-paced, electric opening song “Raydar”, which beautifully references his original career ambitions through some clever sampling. For those unaware, JID originally intended to be a professional football player, even receiving a full athletic scholarship to play at Hampton University. The repeated use of a penalty flag announcement sample to break up verses references this, with the sample in question even referencing his specific number from when he played --- number 6.

Beyond some impressive sampling and fun beat switches, JID also brings some in some clever wordplay that connects back to the voicemail we heard earlier. JID says: “I know some rappers who paid but broke/Lotta money but you played your soul, you played yourself, you played the role.” There’s some really fun rhyme schemes here as the actual rhyme in each set changes --- first he rhymes paid with played which notably don’t end his phrases, before switching to rhyming soul with role, which do. Furthermore, This set of dialogue is clear in pondering the point that voicemail made earlier of fame changing someone --- He recognizes, likely with derision, that he could’ve been more financially affluent and famous had he compromised some of his morals, playing into a more stereotypical rapper “role”.

For the sake of brevity, this song features too dense of lyrics to enumerate on all its points, but a lot of what that role is and the oppressive nature of fame for rappers and Black artists is elaborated in the song, citing systemic racial injustices as the main axis in which his community is continually kept down.

“Dance Now” and “Crack Sandwich” focus on him fighting against peoples’ dismissal of success, as well as painting some pretty vivid imagery of his roots in Atlanta. Dance Now begins with a series of dismissive quotes he’s heard throughout his recent success, people attributing his growth to J Cole, the artist who signed JID to his record label, with a quote again referencing his community’s fear that he may have to “sell his soul” in the process. In this regard, Dance Now leans into some subtle implications of JID’s own faith and fears of compromising it --- he mentions wanting to “bear it all” to God and overcoming struggles he found in Satan. The song itself plays with the fear of him losing that struggle --- a chorus sung hauntingly by longtime collaborator Kenny Mason ends with the following lines: “You dance with the devil, you’ll never dance again,” before launching into a post-chorus where JID and Kenny Mason violently chant “dance now” over and over, even layering a lower pitched version of his voice to further implicate something demonic.

Moving from his faith, Crack Sandwich is likely the best piece of storytelling across the entire album --- JID discusses the dynamics of his 6 other siblings, both by describing them before going moment-by-moment where they were all at a party and his sister got into fight. The entire family starts joining in this chaotic street fight portrayed by JID like its something out of a movie --- verses are bookended by quotes their father would lecture them with, and samples some playful teasing and arguing throughout the track’s duration to further simulate the dynamic of some brothers and sisters that love each other but definitely butt heads a lot.

This loyalty is further extended upon in a later track, “Bruddanem”, which may as well be an anthem for familial bonds breaking for nothing --- it ends with a pretty electric feature from Lil’ Durk as well, who I’m not typically huge on.

Another impressive aspect of the album is its overall versatility: from here, tracks like “Can’t Punk Me” and “Surround Sound” hit more of your traditional pop rap, detailing JID’s success. Beyond lyrical content, his variety of flows, sudden switches and speed make these tracks something more of manic fun than more of a focus on raw storytelling. If listeners are looking for it, though, both songs feature some discussions of the violent streets in which JID and his feature artists, EARTHGANG and the ever-popular 21 Savage describe.

Yet another complete change of pace is Kody Blu 31, an anthem of JID refusing to give up and to, in his words, “keep on swangin’ on” even in the face of the most difficult pressure he’s faced. Above anything, anyone listening to this track will notice JID sings his heart out here, something he’s never really showcased prior --- he confirmed he actually worked with a vocal coach for months in preparation for the album.

I think this is what’s ultimately driven me back to this specific piece of music so many times. “The Forever Story” is an album that you can tell is made with nothing but pure passion. Every feature delivers, including one of the best Lil’ Wayne features in years on the track “Just In Time”. There’s such a variety of rap here, from the relentless storytelling of “Crack Sandwich”, “2007” and “Money”. JID hits emotional notes and something more akin to some of an R&B track in “Can’t Make U Change”. Other tracks like “Dance Now” feel so focused on the sound and the energy its conveying.

The depth of subject matter across these 16 tracks is something else as well. “Sistanem” and “Can’t Make U Change” detail his relationship struggles as he tours and becomes more focused on music, “Stars” is a dreamlike meditation on the early months when an artist has to convince themselves and others around them that success is possible, that despite their sensitivities, their lack of money and their general fear that their passion is something that can sustain them. The deluxe-exclusive “2007” point-blank details JID’s life story, complete with sampling of other rap songs that he, in the lyrics of that song namedrops as influences to him --- it even has a section performed by his father discussing his pride in his son.

If “The Never Story” was a desperate artist carving a niche for himself, “The Forever Story” is that artist able to realize the success and passion he could only dream of prior. For these reasons, “The Forever Story” remains my favorite album of the last year, and might one day even become my favorite of all time.

#rap #jid #music

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THE GRAMMY PROBLEM: MISREPRESENTATION

Any fan of hip-hop or rap who saw the most recent Grammy’s was likely pretty disappointed by the lineup of nominated albums. While commercially successful, Jack Harlow and DJ Khaled’s projects were critically lambasted for their vapid, generic sound, mostly lacking anything in terms of creative nuance or artistic purpose.

Despite this, these two albums took up two of the five total nominations, in place of a variety of (arguably) more interesting, creatively fulfilling projects from artists like Freddie Gibbs, Denzel Curry, JID, Black Thought and others.

People less familiar with the Grammy’s history may also wonder why incredibly popular artists like Drake and The Weeknd, actively decided to not submit their albums for consideration.

For many POC artists and those in the rap community, there has existed a sentiment of misrepresentation for decades now. Even after becoming the country’s most popular genre since a particular rise in 2016, only two rap albums have ever won album of the year --- Lauryn Hill’s “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill”, and OutKast’s “Speakerboxxx/The Love Below”. The most recent of those two albums released in 2004.

Many rappers, including Eminem, have directly stated that regardless of quality it feels the award show continues to snub the genre as a whole from winning larger accolades.

“For whatever reason, they’re always pitching this hint that you might win album of the year, which used to be a big deal. I don’t think it’s a big deal now.” Eminem said in an interview with Sway Calloway.

Even within the category of rap, there has been continued misrepresentation. Cardi B in 2017 was the first solo female artist to win an award for Best Rap Album, despite artists like Nicki Minaj and others having critically and commercially successful albums in the past.

The institution has also been repeatedly criticized for misplacing non-rap music by POC artists in the rap category, placing Drake’s “Hotline Bling” as a Rap single, despite him essentially singing the entire time and the song feeling more pop-r&b if anything.

Tyler, The Creator, won Best Rap Album for Igor --- largely an R&B, alt-rock album that Tyler himself said was not rap.

Others received no nominations. The Weeknd received no nominations after an incredibly successful release of “After Hours” and the single “Blinding Lights”, which later ended up being performed at the Super Bowl.

Even one of the most grammy-celebrated artists, Jay-Z, has previously boycotted the award ceremony for not providing adequate representation.

The list extends decades from Will Smith in 1989 to Drake and the Weeknd last year. Almost every major hip-hop artist has boycotted the Grammy’s at one time, with a handful of examples being:

Rhianna, Frank Ocean, Rick Ross, Nas, Eminem, Chris Brown, Lil Wayne, Kanye West, Snoop Dogg --- just about every major name in the industry has expressed disdain or outright boycotted the awards at one instance.

This cyclically hurts the Grammy’s as well: as more artists feel underrepresented, more of them withdraw their albums for consideration (Drake and The Weeknd currently, Frank Ocean in 2017, etc.), causing the award ceremony to have to look elsewhere among the Billboard 100.

When it does that, Jack Harlow and DJ Khaled are pitted against some of the best of the year, like Kendrick’s “Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers.” Artists that have denounced the institution are still desperately awarded by the Grammy’s through features they provided on those out-there albums.

Drake won a Grammy this year despite not submitting any music. The same is true of The Weeknd’s feature on “Hurricane” by Kanye West last year.

To be able to award artists directly, and to regain trust with minority communities in general, something will have to be done about the Grammy’s selection and revision process.

While more information has been shed about the award ceremony’s selection process in recent years, for a long time it was largely secretive. Additionally, industry members like a former Recording Academy CEO have publicly alleged the award show pushes artists it has good relations with as an opportunity to have their nominated songs performed at the ceremony.

I think at this point in time it’s uncertain how much cultural relevance these traditional media award ceremonies will have in the coming years. While this year was technically an increase, the past three years have found the series in some of its lower viewership numbers ever, and anecdotally award ceremonies are beginning to feel more of a “parents’ watch” than my peers. Regardless of the status of the award industry at large, one thing is clear: the Grammy’s needs to seriously re-evaluate its selection process if it ever wants to go from laughing stock to lauded again.

#grammys #rap #hiphop

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“RAMONA”: SUBSTANCES AND SITUATIONSHIPS

I believe that everyone who really loves a genre, a band or music in general has one album or song that was formative for them. A piece of artistic work that, while maybe not the objective best, came into someone’s life at the perfect time and cemented a deep, personal impression.

For me, “Ramona” by Kill Bill: The Rapper, is that album.

The 2014 debut album came during the Soundcloud era, where independent rap artists were beginning to post their work to streaming services, with an especially high focus of “vaporwave” aesthetics. This aesthetic style consisted of lower fidelity equipment, intentionally messier audio mixing, heavy uses of electronic sounds and synthesizers, all while visually combining these elements with ‘90s pop culture media. The end product results in a oftentimes spacy, nostalgic atmosphere with slower beats per minute and typically sadder topics. This indie scene played in direct contrast to the more mainstream aggressive, trap records of the time (though through artists like XXXTENTACION and others indie “lo-fi” music would find mainstream success), and to me, Ramona is the best example of indie internet rap in that era.

“Ramona”, named and stylized after the main love interest in “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World”, essentially offers reflection. Scattered across the album’s 16 tracks are discussions of the artist’s substance abuse problems, insecurities and failed relationships throughout his past.

There is an almost hypnotic aspect regarding how these tracks flow into each other and form a full, cohesive project. Sonically, the vocal distortions across some tracks, synth throbs and eclectic sampling of video game and cartoon sound effects work together to create a dreamlike atmosphere. This template serves as an instrumental backdrop that emphasizes the accuracy of Bill’s introspections and musings.

It also serves to emulate the dissociation Bill feels from his significant weed consumption, as seen in the following line off the track Abandoned 2:

“Man I’m withdrawn, grippin’ a big bong, a tall cup / I haven’t even made it, people sayin’ I’m washed up.”

As direct and literal as this specific example may be, it is representative of a larger motif around drug and alcohol consumption in the album. As Bill flaunts his routine drug and alcohol addictions, he also tends to reveal individual insecurities he faces. Combined across multiple verses, it’s clear that as a result of some sloppy relationships and mental health issues, the rapper has fallen into a cycle of using weed to avoid his complex, hurt emotions.

In turn, he feels ambitionless and slow to act while on the drug, while without it his pains become increasingly more difficult to bear. It’s for this reason that the opening track Backwoods is centered around the drug, its name even a reference to a brand of cigar typically used for blunts (don’t do drugs kids!).

Backwood’s melancholy outlook through its chorus of “I’ve never been as happy as right now / But shit, I’ve got to cope with the fact that it dies down” also therefore contributes to this drug theming, as his happiness naturally slowing due to an unexpected life event parallels the high and decline of taking a substance.

When not addressing his substance problems, Bill is often commenting on his shy, anxious and otherwise insecure nature, both through some vague metaphors and individual relationship accounts.

A particularly standout piece from Backwoods that covers his mental and personal conflicts is as follows: “Anxiety-ridden, I hide in the rhythm/ I’m Ficus, burning bush/ I turned to Christ then burned the book / It turned to ice; I learned to cook it; work at night, I turned and booked it”

I love this set of lines because I think it captures the whole range of success and struggle he faces within the project. The burning bush analogy works both as a double entendre, further hinting at his chronic weed smoking, while segueing into his conflicts with religion; whether a loss of faith or an inability to form spiritual connections, a turn to faith wasn’t for him. Despite his addiction and an anxiety that’s so crippling it only allows him expression through art, he still was able to find a way to grind and succeed professionally through his long hours or “work at night”.

In a lot of ways, that back-and-forth pull between a harsh critique of one’s flaws and a positive outlook for growth and accepting what has changed dominate the album as a whole.

The first few tracks see a mainly negative spiral. Hola, while mostly a freestyle-esque song with no clear topic, hints at former lacks of boundaries and hurt from relationship in imagery of sacrificing his time and giving up parts of his life for someone who didn’t do the same. Fuck deals with self-destructive tendencies, wanting to “smoke until it kills me slow”.

Chinatown is the track where all that negativity really starts to stall for the first time. Instead of mourning his current vices, wishing to spiral further, Bill spends the entirety of the song reflecting over a summer relationship, one that left him with such profound emotion he remembers how life seemed to center around this woman, as seen in the following lines:

“A trillion little stars dust the blanket above us/ How small are we while the cosmos breathes, but for a second my scale changed.”

For as crass and blunt as rap can be, this line stands out as one of his more delicate passages as far as word choice, mirroring how pretty and perfect he viewed this woman. What exactly happened between the two is never expounded upon, though given a line “and I just want my fucking summer back”, it is clearly implied to have ended negatively.

The next song, Dream Eater, really cements Chinatown as a momentary daydream or reflection Bill wakes out of. Dream Eater, for as happy and peaceful as its instrumental and sampling is, ultimately deals with complacency versus being content. The features by Rekcahdam and Rav empathize this, with lines about finding happiness of being able to socialize and stay close with friends despite work, family and relationship issues.

This ebb and flow between optimistic apathy and self-destructiveness continues through tracks like Black Coffee, which focuses on a failing relationship he struggles to communicate in, an examination of his childhood in Then There’s Me and a more delinquent approach of partying and sexual escapades in Pork.

Sitting among these tracks is one of the most powerful and distinct songs on the entire album, Good Luck Chuck. Rather than rapping introspections through a mix of metaphor and video game references, Good Luck Chuck sees Kill Bill directly crafting a narrative. Here, a woman on hard times and with deeper medical school ambitions slowly becomes a stripper, falling in love with and eventually being betrayed via murder by one of her clients. As strange of a comparison as it might seem, it heavily reminds me of Sonya’s story in “Crime and Punishment”. Here, an innocent woman is forced into a occupation that involves dealing with creepy or shameful people and lust, though the woman in Good Luck Chuck is in a more voluntary position. We see an examination into the mental state of the man each woman is directly romantically involved with, both of which have aims to murder. However, in Good Luck Chuck the man murders her out of a parasocial attachment; as a regular attendee of the strip club, he’s sickened that other people get to see her instead of him and allows that resentment to build in him to the point of murder. While by no means the most replay-able, easy listen music, I think Good Luck Chuck stands as one of the most powerful tracks on the album.

The closing tracks show an inability to grapple with change and loss from Bill, drunkenly stumbling into a girl who’s rejected him in About Last Night… and lamenting how much time has passed since a failed crush in Summertime (The Overflow).

As that final track ends, a sample plays from the video game The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, specifically the sound effect when the player restores their lives. While he may still be grappling with those failed relationships and how to navigate healing outside of them, ending the album on that sound effect implies that there’s a chance at new life, that while things have ended he will continue to go anew and form new experiences despite the history of heartbreaks and mental health hurt he shares prior.

This album is by no means perfect. Some of its word choice and rhetoric in its relationship flashes can feel borderline objectifying (especially when rough, biological terms like ‘female’ are chosen instead of woman, etc.) and the chorus on Chinatown is arguably grading on the ears. However, for a debut project, “Ramona” is so thoroughly cohesive and introspective in its message that it has and continues to elicit a strong, emotional response from me every time I play it. While rough, the album will always deserve its flowers to me.

#rap #exociety #ramona #indie rapper

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GETTING INTO MUSIC VOL. 1 -- Rap

Hey, internet! Initially, I was planning on making this a video project --- something I will likely still do in the future --- but I wanted to get some content out in the meantime! I think many of us have been faced with the age-old "what type of music are you into?" question. So many times when I ask people about their music opinions I hear the same answer. every. single. time. "I like a little bit of everything, except rap and country!" This is always really frustrating for two reasons! First, now I have no idea what you're actually into and enjoy music-wise.

Second, I think anyone who is a fan of either of those genres immediately feels bad hearing someone dismiss an entire genre in front of them, especially when they each have large enough artists and subgenres that the person could probably find music they liked within either genre if they took the time to dig. I think a lot of us (myself included) tend to start off enjoying music pretty passively --- maybe we only listened to whatever our friends' played, or that one Michael Bublé CD mom had that she would endlessly play on repeat.

For a large portion of people, I think music exists more as background noise than anything, hence people not really having a solid answer when prompted with the "what music do you like?" question. That takes us to our topic today: actively discovering and enjoying new music! As an avid rap fan for the past few years, I wanted to start this series off with rap.

I'm hoping to deconstruct the genre as a whole, list the characteristics commonly seen in online discussions and Billboard Top 100 lists as ideal rap ability, and hopefully drop some helpful recommendations along the way! 1) WRITING If rap really is just a guy spitting poetry, I would argue this is the most important part of his music. I am heavily biased given my background as a former English major, but something that really draws me to rap personally is that deeper emphasis on writing compared to some other genres given lyrics are the primary focus. We're going to focus on two umbrellas for rap writing: the thematic content --- or message of the piece --- and the syntax, basically how words are rearranged in the sentences themselves. The absolutely beautiful thing about rap is it can be as profound and nuanced as you want it to be. By its nature, rap has routinely been a discussion point in social and political culture for basically as long as it has existed. Its roots in Black culture and the often anti-establishment way it grapples with poverty, crime and racial injustices cause ire often, especially among conservative outlets, which see the genre as supporting crime. For writers like Kendrick Lamar, Nas and many others, the goal is to paint vivid pictures of the intersection of race and poverty across cities within the United States, showing how those structures lead to the routine gang, drug and crime culture cities face.

They argue that American courts, law enforcement and government structure are built on institutions that profit from racial discrimination and unjust punishment, leading many into poverty and therefore crime to make ends meet. Lamar himself won a Pulitzer for his album "DAMN." while in it sampling FOX's own coverage of him and their beliefs that rap has culturally harmed African Americans more than "racism in recent years." Rappers routinely satirize this depiction of them as violent criminals to poke at how media and the nation seem unable to attack the real root of the intercity conflict: poverty. With all that being said, your enjoyment of rap doesn't have to be that deep either!

For every nuanced, thematically dense rap album out there is an equal amount of silly, weird esoteric songs that are just meant to be listened to for fun. Artist Tyler, the Creator has a song about waiting to pick someone up and being frustrated with how long they're taking (It's titled, "Come on, Let's go if curious).

Rapper Aesop Rock has a song about how cool his cat is ("Kirby") and what it's like to be a kid who doesn't want to eat his green beans ("Grace"). There are millions upon millions of dance-instruction songs, and a limitless supply of songs and freestyles just flexing how rich, successful and famous rappers are. It's part of what makes the genre so diverse and nuanced --- rappers can make plenty of layered introspection on culture and religion when they want, and still have dumb, fun songs flexing their vehicles too. If you're looking for some larger commentary, some classic albums are: To Pimp a Butterfly, Illmatic, 4.44, among others.

More recently, J.I.D.'s The Forever Story serves as an impressive look into his life, family loyalties and career changes. Some other recent albums with good messages are GHETTOLAND, All-Amerikkkan Bada$$ and GHETTO GODS. If you're wanting weirder albums that focus on less common topics in rap, Aesop Rock's more recent albums come to mind immediately. For more of your hype-inducing songs focused on flexing wealth and success, Her Loss is a pretty solid contender for this, Lil Wayne's The Carter III does this very well, and for a more indie pick I might go with Solar Flare by Kill Bill: the Rapper and Rav. Now, allow me to be your AP Language teacher again and talk about the technical aspect of writing: literary devices. Any Scholastic Book Fair kid knows that writing comes in a variety of shapes and sizes. One of the most fun parts of rap is how clever the wordplay can be at times. It's very common for double and triple entendre to exist, lines that simultaneously show off multiple meanings at once. Homophones, or phrases that sound similar are often used to employ these more complex meanings. Jay-Z was particularly famous for this with lines like: "I'm not a business man/I'm a business, man/let me handle my business, damn." When listening it can sound like he's just repeating business man twice with more emphasis on the second. In reality, he's conveying through that homophone that he is not a scrappy capitalist, but rather has made such wild success for himself financially that he as a brand and cultural identity creates wealth like that of a full business (allowing him the credibility to handle his own business as he asks for later in the line). Beyond clever double meanings in lines, rappers find insane ways to hold multiple simultaneous internal and external rhymes across multiple verses. Rappers like MF DOOM and Eminem come to mind for their complex, multi-syllabic rhyme schemes.

To see what I'm talking about, check out this video:

On a raw vocabulary level, the aforementioned Aesop Rock is known for having one of the most complex, diverse vocabularies of any rapper. He and rapper Lupe Fiasco are known for their word choice and metaphor stacking, with earlier Aesop Rock works almost being cryptic with just how buried they are in complex figurative language. There's also a simple beauty in rappers delivering messages directly as is. Tupac was known for prioritizing his message over everything else, speaking directly to the listener --- this is something Jimmy more recently has done on that GHETTOLAND record I mentioned. If you’re looking for funny, sometimes dumb bars, my mind immediately goes to people like 21 Savage and Kanye --- if you still feel morally comfortable listening to him given all that he's done. For more of that traditional homophone-heavy, double-entendre work check out: Nicki Minaj, Lil' Wayne, Eminem and Jay-Z. Your lyrically conscious rappers are going to be Kendrick, J. Cole among others, and more esoteric wordplay comes from Lupe Fiasco, MF DOOM, Black Thought and Aesop Rock. 2) SOUND I am infinitely less qualified to talk about instrumentation, music theory and vocal delivery as someone with minimal background in playing and learning music. As a result, I'm going to make this section as brief as I can, though there is a few key points I think need to be hit. A big part of rappers is how they deliver their lyrics vocally --- this can be everything from the rhythm they're rapping (usually called flow), their actual pitch if there's singing involved etc. Issues of annunciation separate rappers from the derogative "mumble rap" category, and a lot of this I think comes down to personal preference more than anything. I think it is worth noting that rapper Eminem is known to be excellent in the actual technicals of delivering rap. He's able to control his breathing well which allows him to rap longer, he can rap incredibly fast and with multiple rhythms seamlessly. Artists like Smino and JID have stood out recently as well for just how often their vocals are varied in pitch, rhythm and more. For a final footnote, production is the instrumentation behind rap. Rap has a long history of sampling, or taking existing sounds or portions of music and reincorporating them into a new track. With some artists, this can be done to further drive their theme which can work very poignantly! As someone with little production and music theory knowledge, unfortunately, all I can do is recommend the classic greats of making interesting, catchy beats. The Alchemist, Kanye West, Madlib, Pharell and J-Dilla all stick out. So does Nujabes. There are a lot of really interesting experimental production artists in Injury Reserve, JPEGMAFIA, and Danny Brown if you just wanna hear new crazy sounds also!

That concludes my first look at the genre of rap, and I hope it inspires you to check out one of the many artists I mentioned here. What artists should I have included? Are there any aspects of rapping I missed? Feel free to reply with anything you think I should've expanded on. Thank you and have a wonderful day!

#rap #new music #music #pop music #Youtube