How to Write a Rap Song: A Gift for Bad Muthas

I received sloppy kisses and a gift certificate for a day of pampering at the spa from my kids and husband, respectively, this morning for Mother’s Day. I opened adorable crayon-scribbled cards with kind, loving words that reached from the pages and tugged at my heartstrings. I stood in church with the other mothers in recognition and appreciation and was blessed with a special prayer. My Mother’s Day, and my life as a mother, is pretty amazing and I know it. I’m pretty fortunate and I know it. I’m also a rap star and I know it.

No need to reread; you got it right the first time: I. Am. A. Rap. Star. And you can be, too.

To all of the bad Muthas in my life, please accept a Mother’s Day gift that keeps on giving: the key ingredients of an amazing rap song. Some of you may be shaking your heads asking yourselves if I done lost my mind. The answer is no. Not yet. But when you rake in millions for your ghetto fabulous song, please send me 25% of your earnings.

How to Write a Rap Song

1. Establish yourself: You must, and I repeat MUST, yell out your area code between 2-5 times throughout your song. If you don’t, people won’t know where you’re from. Helpful hint: if there’s a big city near you and you hail from a small suburb, feel free to use the big city’s area code instead. Street cred is everything.

2. Brand yourself: Once you’ve recorded one song, thereby establishing yourself, begin referring to yourself by first (or nick) name only. “Ursher, baby!” “It’s Weezie!” “HOVA!”

3. Announce yourself: Insert a distinct mating call as part of your lyrics. If you really want to compete in today’s rap game, you’ve got to stand out. The easiest way to do this is to yell out something incoherent and random that resembles animals going at it. I have no idea what Pitbull is yelling in every. one. of his songs, but it sounds a lot like “dolly.” For some reason, I don’t think that’s what he’s saying, but he has a lot of money, so let’s go with it.

4. Rhyme party with Bacardi: It doesn’t matter what you’re talking about, just throw these two words together and you’ve got yourself a platinum album.

5. Partner up: Depending on the level of your bad ass-ness, you’ll want to collaborate with someone who is a stark contrast to you. If you’re a Will Smith kind of rapper (i.e.: you will drop eff-bombs in your movies, but not on your albums), you’re gonna wanna go ahead and grab Lil’ Wayne. If he’s still alive. Is he alive? Anyway, if you’re more Eminem-esque, (i.e.: every other word out of your mouth is one that would make your grandmother cry), try hooking up with someone like Carrie Underwood. The lyrics will probably sound something like this:

Carrie: Reach for the moon/ Even if you miss, you’ll land among a pick-up truck I bashed in with a baseball bat.

Eminem: I’ll set dat bitch on fire/ You’ll find her in my mother fuckin trunk/ I’ll do it ‘cuz I love ma daughters.

The duo is so crazy that it will work; white kids everywhere will buy it.

6. Brag: Buy a push-button car, expensive clothes, and black diamonds and rap about them. A lot. And then remind all of the other poor, struggling rappers that they’re nothing until they’ve got gold in their mouth and chains on their neck. This may incite a string of thefts, but it’s in the name of music rap.

7. Get poetic: Figurative language can go a long way. 50 Cent gets it: “I love you like a fat kid loves cake.” What’s up, Emerson? Can you get with this, Whitman?

8. Come up from nothing: If you’re middle-class, attended school on a regular basis, and/or volunteered your time assisting the neighborhood watch, you must never admit it. Never.

9. Hate someone or something: The police, the current president, me–just focus your intense hatred on something and throw it into every song at least once.

10. Fake it: If you can’t come up with a title, a track, a hook–whatever, just steal it. In the music community, this is called “sampling.” In the creative community, this is called a “cop-out.” Either way, it pays trillions.

Happy rapping, bitchez.

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