Wednesday, January 08, 2003

Glock Hop 1.8.03

My poor little laptop. My laptop is in need of space, room, open air, fewer downloads. Funny enough, though, when I think of MP3's to erase, and I look through my downloaded files, I think of my little brother, the fledgeling rap artist, Agua Dulce. I think of him because every time I think I know exactly what's on my computer, he makes me realize that the world is a much more random place where every permutation of 50 Cent's instrumentals, or Wu-Tang's instrumentals can find their way into my files.

Even more interesting is how people simply have lost the art of spelling. Freestyle. The variations of 50 Cent and Biggie. The addition of the letter Z to make things hard.

There are apparently many unheard and unreleased and rare radio tracks, tracks of these cats "in da club," audio of who disses who, tracks on so and so versus so and so.

All of this on my laptop and I never even knew it. Rap artists are battling while I go to sleep. Facing each other down while I get the paper. Practicing their "freesties" when I'm in the city. I wonder what sound they'll make when I kill them.

FROM MY LAPTOP. I don't want none of those rappers thinking I got beef. They might come to my desktop with that mess and start rhyming about how I drop pop hits and start claiming they robbed me at the Source Awards.

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