here I go again on my own going down the only road i've ever known like a drifter I was born to walk alone
and i've made up my mind i ain't wastin no more time
this whole aging thing is fucking with me. i mean, never mind that i'm rounding thirty, blooming about as late as is common in my family. actually, i don't mind that part so much. the part about establishing an emceeing career at my age is what bothers me. yes, bothers me.
i mean, sure there are rappers still going strong in their 30s. but they've had a foothold in the industry since they were young. they're rhyming at their age because they aren't ready to stop. but i'm saying, would these same cats decide at their present age that they can up and start rhyming for rent? for mortgage? for their nest egg? you feel me?
shit's driving me batty. at the heart of the argument, as with any existential argument, is the feeling that we should do what we love and that all the other push-pull factors cease to matter. but on the periphery of said existential dilemma are the moons of reality, and the resultant tides that crash palpably on whatever resolve your idealism offers.
here's what I mean by that:
so many things are different when you're my age. different values. different aesthetic. different style than what's status quo now.. shit, I even got a different bedtime. all changes that came with age and maturity and simply coming from a different era than the kids alongside whom i'm building my immortal discography. and the kids who keep people like me in business.
[i think of LL Cool J. the greatest of all time? so he says. he's not bad. but would he have made it if he jumped onto the scene on 2006 with his big Rick Rubin beats and his gorilla mic approach? i say no. kids would be like "no thanks. there's at least five unknown cats out of West Bumfuck who can eat him alive."]
hip hop for the thirty somethings? can i really bank on such a niche market? how far can i get kicking verses on "those darn 90s" or "yo, mind your stock options, son. keep that portfolio at modest growth in a down market" before i myself get sick of it? am i really the only one pulling this cart?
i can already feel the weight of my written material thus far, and it's all tipped toward notions of mortality and leaving a legacy. not a bad message, if i do say so myself. and it sure beats song after song about how hip hop was sooo much doper fifteen years ago. please. that shit couldn't possibly carry me through one album, much less a flourishing music career. not without wearing out its poignance.
so shit, let me know if you're feeling me. i really need to know that i'm expending my wick on a cause that's gonna validate a perspective other than that of my own personal artistic narcissism. not that my unicron ego is any bit insignificant. but you know what i'm saying.
