“Son of a Song” marks a significant milestone for me as it’s my first song featuring a live band, which eventually transformed into an all-women live band. With no drum machine or loops, it allowed me to explore a new dimension of my musicality. This song reflects my experiences and the evolution of my identity as a rapper. I’ve come to understand the importance of being a positive influence in an industry filled with stereotypes and negativity.
Rooted in My Roots
I rap, “Reed Rose was my rap name, hometown, and my last name.” My rap adventures began with a name that held personal significance, inspired by one of my favorite artists at the time: the late Soulja Slim, formerly known as Magnolia Slim. He hailed from Magnolia, and I aimed for my artistic identity to be firmly rooted in my origins, representing “My hometown and my last name.”
Questioning the Rap Game
In my early days in the rap game, I felt a sense of belonging, but I soon realized that the things I’d have to say and do to be accepted were unacceptable. I’m definitely not the type of artist to glorify a lifestyle that I didn’t genuinely live. This realization led me to question the authenticity of the music industry, especially when it perpetuated harmful stereotypes. It marked a turning point for me as I recognized that being real was overrated, unless you’re a criminal.
The Commercial Dilemma
I rap, “Aye, but as long as it’s sellin’, ain’t nobody yellin’ at cha. Do you, your choice. Did you know you could turn up the autotunes if you hate your own voice?” The industry often prioritizes commercial success over authenticity, which is understandable, allowing artists to fabricate freely. Some artists make this choice, but it’s crucial to understand the impact it can have on society and its people, especially the young.
A New Path
“I should write a book or make a movie. It’s age-appropriate. I’m over with creating this rap music. Shit, you do it!” At 39 years old, I realized that my role as a father and a musician was evolving. But instead of unplugging the mic, I embraced the idea of using my music as a tool to communicate with my own children, providing valuable life lessons.
Responsibility of Artists
“There should be psychological evaluations and tests taken before we’re allowed to speak on an instrumental. Shit is that influential.” Artists bear responsibility for their platforms. The influence of their words can be significant, and it’s crucial to acknowledge this accountability. Perhaps, by doing so, we can create a more expansive artistic landscape, rather than constantly reinforcing the theme of psychopathic ballers dominating the genre.
The Cost of Fame
“My life on the line, my private in the public, to be perceived as money, that’s not somethin’ I was comfy with. Well, I mean, that was back then. Since having kids, a lot has changed.” The exposure that comes with fame, on any level, can be overwhelming and sometimes even dangerous. I walked away from music when I felt my safety and sanity were at risk, and when I saw the true colors of those around me. What was the point of making it if there’s no one with whom to share?
The Digital Era
“Now I’m prayin’ to the Gods of the algorithms.” In today’s world, music is not just about artistry; it’s a business driven by algorithms and social media gimmicks. As an artist, particularly as an introvert, trying to adapt to these changes while remaining true to oneself is challenging. But don’t worry, I still have my day jobs.
The Power of Music
“I was raised by music, son of a song. Put any song on, shit I’ll probably sing along. If nothing else, that should convince you how well I pay attention. I know how to talk but I knooow how to listen.” My love for music runs deep. It has been a constant companion in my life, shaping who I am today. I’ve learned the importance of both speaking and listening, of using music as a medium to connect and psychoanalyze with others.
A Classic in the Making
“Live from Fatherhood” is a classic, serving as a testament to my growth as an artist and as an individual. “Son of a Song” signifies my transformation and my dedication to using my music as a platform to be the change I wanna see.
Final Thoughts
In conclusion, “Son of a Song” is a deeply personal and reflective track that invites listeners to think about the impact of music, the responsibility of artists, and the importance of authenticity in an industry driven by commercial success. My path as a father and an artist has led me to this point, and I hope that my music can inspire others to “be a little bit more conscious and less driven by money.” I was raised by music, son of a song.
Son of a Song lyrics
Reed Rose was my rap name, hometown and my last name. Got the idea from my favorite rapper at the time: Soulja Slim. Went by Magnolia then changed his name to Soulja. Beautiful representation, well, at least, by my estimation. But this was back when I was overly invested in reppin’ a hood that I didn’t own. And, ugh. Yes, I think I’m too good. A place you have to leave or get killed for being successful, that’s the opposite of home. A rapper done told you wrong. But they’re not glorifying.
Just rappin’ about their environment. I wouldn’t be mad if you never heard that lie again. Fathers be taking care of their kids where you live but you rather rap about your ops and your obsession with cops. Perpetuating stereotypes that are oppressive. Aye, but as long as it’s sellin’, ain’t nobody yellin’ at cha. Do you, your choice. Your in’t too many yelling atcha for being fake it’s your choice or at the people who turn up the autotunes cause they hate their own voice? I should write a book or make a movie. It’s age-appropriate.
I’m over with creating this rap music. Shit, you do it. I’m 39 years old, and to the masses unknown, and just got Neumann microphone. Why am I rapping, knowing this platform’s for the young and uninformed? Wait, I do have kids could use it to talk to them. I could barely quote a sentence that my parents mentioned, but know the lyrics to damn-near every song you put on. I still remember the first rap I ever wrote, “Sittin’ in the room feeling sorrow. Thinkin’ will I live to see the days of tomorrow. Ain’t got nothin’, so a playa gotta…”
damn-near a suicide note. I was about 14. Oblivious to what music would bring. I mean, for me, it was therapeutic. Not how others viewed it. Some tried to compete with me at being a better me than me. There should be psychological evaluations and tests taken before we’re allowed to speak on an instrumental. Shit is that influential. How me talking about my struggles make someone else jealous? Or the thought of me being successful make a loved one feel like a failure? And you wonder why none of us never blew up?
Well, you fucks spent so much time trying to tear me down, should’ve lifted you up. I was on two record labels, not deserving of discussion. But, guess who made the introductions? Same uncle, same cousin. That’s relevant to let you know where my head at, been about my family but misguided ’cause I wasn’t drivin’. I walked away from music at the height of my career. Let it be known, I’m throwin’ air quotes in here. After seein’ the true colors of people thinkin’ I would make it. I did not wanna stick around to actually becomin’ famous.
My life on the line, my private in the public to be perceived as money, that’s not somethin’ I was comfy with. Well, I mean, that was back then. Since having kids a lot has changed. Nawnsayin’? Now I’m prayin’ to the Gods of the algorithms. “Forgive me, I never did this. I know I don’t fit the description. I’m too introverted. Miss me with social media gimmicks, but please gimmie sum of that damn money y’all been givin'” Live From Fatherhood’s a classic, give me the awards. For?
Survivin’ rappers who bashed ’cause of what I couldn’t afford. Some of your songs fathered me with psychopathy. For trying to convince me otherwise, never-mind, keep your apologies. I remember when I used to listen to rap to get by. I was more impressionable, you were so creditable. Credulous, lackin’ emotional intelligence. Now, it sounds like their parents and the school system failed ’em. Tell ’em, how you have all these kids make all these albums and I never hear about them. Oh I get it, music is a business.
But most of y’all in the hole because of music equipment and studio time. You know, I ain’t lyin’. And you know, most of us ain’t supposed to blow up. So, um, Imma just use my music and be a little bit more conscience than driven by money. I was raised by music, son of a song. Put any song on, shit I’ll probably sing along. If nothing else that should convince you how well I pay attention. I know how to talk but I knooow how to listen. I hear whatcha labels and fan-bases won’t allow and you runnin’ ’round talkin’ ’bout you got the realest
shit out. Please don’t make me disrespect your musical contribution. This is Live from Fatherhood. Don’t you dare compare.
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