The emptiness of most rap:

Exhibit A:

Look, I'm a star, blindingly bright,
Busting with one hand on the mic,
The other checking my tie's knot to be tight,
The primary sight of the night,
In the sky, the only kite,
In the courtroom the only right,
In my head, the only life,
I'm larger than strife,
Too good for the knife,
.......blah blah blah...

This garbage portrays the artist as more significant than his art. When someone writes and sings lyrics such as these, he is telling you not to waste your money buying his art, because it's not important. Only he is important.


Exhibit B:

Skills pay the bills, and my words are the truth,
My raps are sicker than death, and my rhymes get you to groove,
Other cats fathom in wonder when my flow hits the street,
But no body gets the green like my words and a beat.
A feat that can't be compared,
Words that hit hard, with reality aired.
Because I hold nothing back, and my words go forth,
No sugar-coating this knowledge that flows, and not forced.


More garbage...in this instance the artist elevates the art, but his art in turn elevates his art. It's a cycle in which nothing is really said. The message is blank. It's as if words have no meaning (absurd but strangely true in this instance - if the assumption that art points to something higher than itself because the artist employs artistic skill to do such).



Perhaps more exhibits will come