rappers have no talent

Why don't you try to be a rapper and see what it is like, not all rappers rap about big booties and rims and cadillacs. Why don't you listen to Eminem.thegame458

Em is terrible.

I need only one word to end your argument. Busdriver. Google him.

I agree with TC. Most of "Todays" Rap is crap. I mean here how most songs go "I love my baby, she's got a big butt, I have 22 inch rims you don't, i'm good, you suck" Rinse and repeat_Moderator_

turn off the radio and tune in for the actual stuff.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-_IFAt8ka0

poetry in motion

Stop.

If you agree with the sentiment expressed in the original post, then write a rap right now. It takes no talent, no skill, so why not just end the argument and prove it. All of you ignorant, close-minded people out there, who I'm sure have no talent just like all of those silly brain dead rappers out there, I challenge you to write a rap song that could actually pass as some second rate tune on some mainstream trash-rapper's worst album ever. You can at least do that right?

Gee, if you can't even do that, then you must be really stupid and talentless.

Right now. Go. Surely if any of you guys can do it, then maybe we'll all believe you and change our ways.
GTALoco

still
This is all overseen by my man Will

[Chorus: Tre Williams]
As I walk through the shadow of death
I know that I ain't got much time left
And they don't really wanna see the good in me
Ain't satisfied until they see the fool in me
(And I) I know my business, so my sins great
(And I) I thank the hood for all the love they gave
(And I) Forgive 'em all, they did they best to hate
Oh, let there be light

[Verse 2]
This ain't the glorified, just painting the street picture
There's no God in sir Bibles, just blunt and switches
Gillettes cut pain in kitchen
Now every rapper wanna claim he hang with Kenneth "Supreme" Griffith
It's like the same difference cept when **** get arraigned
They don't want the same sentence, **** get to snitchin
If I could reverse the monsters and turn forward the razas
And bring back the **** who was livest
Old hustlers, reminscing on better days
They home, doing nothing, might as well be in a cage
Hating on young brothers, one foot in the grave
They used to love us till we found our own way thru the maze
New York, set trippin and flaggin
Got the West Coast laughing, now Esco's asking
What happened? My homegirl from upper Manhattan
She remembers the quarters that's Latin, alotta rat-a-tat-tatting

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
The son of the audio cassette era, tech wearer
Bullets and begets, Binzbo's speaker terror
Till man I get mine till I'm dead, so I can drive sumpthin red
Like that horse standing on it's hind legs
Since Arnold and Willis in they bunk beds
I wanted bread like Wonder, not manned-a-wanno like the parent of Lionel
Nas is the Ghetto American Idol
No matter what you do you're never getting my title
I can't sound smart cuz ya'll'll run away
They say I ain't hungry no more and I don't talk about 'ye
Like there's no other way for a ex-hustler
Cake ya, the x-ray splitter to touch ya, I beg to differ
When you're four years into the game, we can have a conversation
Eight years in the game, I invite ya on vacation
Ten years in the game, after I've enjoyed my fame
Only then I let ya pick my brain, ****

Yeah, rap's all about big booties and 22's:roll:

I need only one word to end your argument. Busdriver. Google him.

LazerChachi