So I’m just going to go ahead and embrace the enormous possibility that I’l be the ninety-year old rapper. Yes, my grown behind is still rapping. I got a job though. Don’t think I’m out here as a thirty something year old aspiring artist who can’t see themselves doing anything else but music. Most of the time rhyming doesn’t pay the mortgage even if I had a deal. I like my lights on and water running. I consider myself a professional rapper although rap is not my profession.
I used to rap mad hardcore. I can’t do that when I’m ninety though. No one’s gonna believe I got a squad of goons with guns or some smokeables for sale. After the age of twenty, identifying myself as a hoe or bi**h was played out. My big behind wouldn’t let pants sag and I was too afraid of yeast infections to wear skin tight jeans. Leggings always reminded me of my L.A. Gear childhood phase. Still had lyrics though!
There was this one time I thought I was never going to rap again. It was when I was first getting into the church. That was stupid! Just rhyme about things that rep how you feel. People in the church want to hear something too. Duh!
I know there’s people who are like, “What? You’re this old. Why are you still rapping? Ain’t nobody signing you.” Honey, I didn’t grow to be an adult for somebody to tell me how I’m allowed to express my creativity. And why I gotta be looking for a deal? Are forty-year old men playing ball in the park trying to get into the NBA? If I feel like rhyming I’m going to write a verse, might even record it and let it fly on the inernet or someting. If I feel like writing a book, I’m going to write it. Just like I feel like blogging about whatever is on my mind.
I’m sure Jay-Z will beat me to the 90-year old rapping satus, but that’s okay. When he gets there I’ll probably still be nodding my head when I listen to him too. God gave me many voices and I intend to express them all, even if it takes me until I’m ninety.