re: What is Your Criteria for a Great Lyricist? And/or some Examples?

quote:

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pac ryhymes with such fluid flow while give us a snapshot into a place that we can't be. it's art really. he captures LA for a black man in the early 90s better than a photo would

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Well said, trillhog.

I think people disregard rap, and rappers as a whole, because hip hop is very slang heavy. If you don't know the slang you get lost, and it sounds like jibberish. Some rappers like Scarface, Pac, and Biggie are more straight talkers. You feel as if you are sitting down with someone and they are telling you a story, it feels personal.

Other rappers are slang heavy, and to add to that it's regional slang. You think people in New York knew what Juvie, was talking about on 400 degrees? I doubt it!

2pac, Nas, biggie, Jay-Z, Kanye on late Registration, Drake, and Kendrick

Non-country

THIS is a great lyric:

ARTIST: Richard Thompson
TITLE: 1952 Vincent Black Lightning



Said Red Molly to James that's a fine motorbike
A girl could feel special on any such like
Said James to Red Molly, well my hat's off to you
It's a Vincent Black Lightning, 1952
And I've seen you at the corners and cafes it seems
Red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme
And he pulled her on behind
And down to Box Hill they did ride

/ A - - - D - / - - - - A - / : / E - D A /
/ E - D A - / Bm - D - / - - - - A - - - /

Said James to Red Molly, here's a ring for your right hand
But I'll tell you in earnest I'm a dangerous man
I've fought with the law since I was seventeen
I robbed many a man to get my Vincent machine
Now I'm 21 years, I might make 22
And I don't mind dying, but for the love of you
And if fate should break my stride
Then I'll give you my Vincent to ride

Come down, come down, Red Molly, called Sergeant McRae
For they've taken young James Adie for armed robbery
Shotgun blast hit his chest, left nothing inside
Oh, come down, Red Molly to his dying bedside
When she came to the hospital, there wasn't much left
He was running out of road, he was running out of breath
But he smiled to see her cry
And said I'll give you my Vincent to ride

Says James, in my opinion, there's nothing in this world
Beats a 52 Vincent and a red headed girl
Now Nortons and Indians and Greeveses won't do
They don't have a soul like a Vincent 52
He reached for her hand and he slipped her the keys
He said I've got no further use for these
I see angels on Ariels in leather and chrome
Swooping down from heaven to carry me home
And he gave her one last kiss and died
And he gave her his Vincent to ride

quote:

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400 degrees

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Best rap album that ever came out of Louisiana.

I also really enjoy a lot of Darroh Sudderth's lyrics.

Andre 3000
whoever writes Merle Haggard's songs
Townes
Robert Earl Keen
Biggie
Bob Dylan

Sad to me that some of you have never heard of some of the greatest lyricists of our generation because of their underground element. A handful of guys who can rap circles around a lot of the mainstream guys

I will give a few examples with a verse from some of my favorites and hopefully some of you research some of these artists and learn there is a lot more hip hop than what is just in the mainstream

Brother Ali:
(Letter to my Countrymen)
We don't really like to talk about the race thing
The whole grandparents used to own slaves thing
Pat ourselves on the back in February
Looking at pictures of Abe Lincoln and the great King
But the real picture's much more embarrassing
We're still not even close to really sharing things
The situation of oppressed people
Shows what we feel it means to be a human being
What does it mean to be American?
I think the struggle to be free is our inheritance
And if we say it how it really is
We know our lily skin still give us privilege
Advantage is given to the few
That are built into the roots of our biggest institutions
That's the truth in life we got to choose
Do I fight in the movement or think I'm entitled to it
This is not a practice life
This is the big game we got to attack it right
Each one of us is headed for the grave
This old crooked world won't be saved by the passive type
This is a letter to my countrymen
Not from a Democrat or a Republican
But one among ya
That's why you call me Brother
Ain't scared to tell you we're in trouble cause I love you

(The Puzzle)
Listen when life leaves you beaten up
Don't lay around in it, hurry pick them pieces up
Cling closely to the people you love
They're your umbrella when the weathers tough
See to it that your head is up
If not just remember this
Just never let your chest and your chin touch in public
Those that stand against us would love this
Man frick them, something's bugging em'
They feel inadequate or something and that's been dug in em'
So deep they can't stand someone else making shite
Player hatred, same concept created Satan
Play em, no never mind let em play their part
They're here to make us prove we are what we say we are
We say we are the hard hearted
Been discarded from everything we've ever been part of
They just robbed it
Unguarded, tormented and tortured
And got nothing but scars and grey hairs to show for it
frick that, every stone that's ever been cast or blow that ever landed
Helped to build that man that's standing before your bitch arse
And back to wreak havoc and never retired, retreated or recanted
I, don't expect you to have stood where I'm standing
Why, repsect is the only thing I'm demanding
Try, you and I could build this understanding
You can't honestly shake unless you know where my hand's been brother

The whole Vakill "Armor of God" album

Mos Def (Mathematics)

Yo, check it one for Charlie Hustle, 2 for Steady Rock
3 for the forthcoming live future shock
It's 5 dimensions, 6 senses
7 firmaments of heaven and hell, 8 Million Stories to tell
9 planets faithfully keep in orbit
With the probable tenth, the universe expands length
The body of my text possess extra strength
Power-lift the powerless up out of this towering inferno
My ink so hot it burn through the journal
I'm blacker than midnight on Broadway and Myrtle
Hip-Hop passed all your tall social hurdles
Like the nationwide project-prison-industry complex
Working-class poor: better keep your alarm set
Streets too loud to ever hear freedom ring
Say evacuate your sleep, it's dangerous to dream
But you chain cats j-j-pow! You dead now
Killing fields need blood to graze the cash cow
It's a number game, but shite don't add up somehow
Like I got, 16 to 32 bars to rock it
But only 15% of profits ever see my pockets like
69 billion in the last 20 years
Spent on national defense but folks still live in fear like
Nearly half of America's largest cities is one-quarter black
That's why they gave Ricky Ross all the crack
16 ounces to a pound, 20 more to a ki
A 5-minute sentence hearing and you're no longer free
40% of Americans own a cell phone
So they can hear everything that you say when you ain't home
I guess Michael Jackson was right: "You Are Not Alone"
Rock your hardhat, black, cause you in the Terrordome
Full of hard niggas, large niggas, dice-tumblers
Young teens and prison greens facing life numbers
Crack mothers, crack babies and AIDS patients
Young bloods can't spell but they could rock you in PlayStation
This new math is whipping motherfrickers' arse
You want to know how to rhyme you better learn how to add
It's mathematics