Friday, January 7, 2011

Why I Love Rap Music

As you should know by now, my life is completely consumed by rap music. It is my guilty pleasure and my love. Why, you ask? I love everything about it. The beats, the lyrics, even the F bombs. I don't like sad, depressing music. Even when rap songs are deep and sentimental, they are not sad. Yes, rap songs can be heartfelt, sentimental, and deep. I don't mind the cuss words because I have a mouth like a sailor, plus they help get points across.

I love the rhyming. It is so creative and I am anything but, so I admire rapper's abilities. I get upset when people automatically dislike rap music or won't give it a chance, or say that it's impossible to understand the lyrics. I understand that everybody has their own opinion and own music tastes, but some people won't even give it a shot without saying hurtful, disrespectful things about the music that brings me so much joy.

If you think about it, rap is similar to county music as they both tell life stories and are very descriptive, but I feel like rapper's take a more light hearted approach to their songs and don't make them as sad. They want to get their feelings out and have fun at the same time. What's wrong with having fun?

I know I probably haven't changed anyone's mind or opinion, and that wasn't my intention. I just wanted to convey why I feel the way I do about rap music and how it helps me get through all of the bumps in life and helps me keep on keeping on.

Plus, they leave us with great quotes like:

50 cent^^




3 comments:

  1. Ethan always says "hey mom lets make wap music!"
    I have no idea where he learned it but he says it all the time.

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  2. hahahahaha! well i promise i haven't been around him to try and convert him! :o)

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  3. I think he is just looking for an oppourtunity to cuss. I asked him why he wanted to make "wap" music and he replied "cause it's fast and bumpy mommy! Don-choo know dat alweady?"

    I apoligized for being a totally un-cool mother. He rolled his eyes and continued playing.

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