Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Kendrick Lamar the same singer who sang the absolutely lyrical poetic masterpiece 'bitch don't kill my vibe'?
I shall now proceed to dig up the earth and begin living under it because that's probably the only Kendrick song I've heard because it was among some fabulous other songs gifted to me in a treasured pen drive full of some of my favourite music which to this day I live for and listen to, and this pen drive I had plugged into my brother's car and 'bitch don't kill my vibe' was the very first song that began playing.
We'd never heard the song before and the sheer genius of the extraordinary near Shakespearean wordage sent both me and my sibling into a tizzy of confusion and I had to, in fact, unplug the drive just to check if I was carrying the correct one, which I was; then how was it that a song with the vocal variations of a comatose ant and the libretto of illiterate rats doing among a collection of beautiful music. Of course, the track was skipped and never heard of again, but phew! Kendrick Lamar is not someone I'd listen to ever again. No sir. That music isn't my jam, my beat, my anything, moreover, I have reason enough to believe that it accelerates the death of grey cells.
In other news, someone who really did know how to make music, who was an educator, who established the reality of rhythm and smooth chaos of delicious saxophone tones in jazz 'Nathan Davis' died this month. An antithesis, if anything to the blemish that is Kendrick Lamar's music and lyrics, and no, the greatness that was this wonderful saxophonist, never won a Pulitzer.
I shall now proceed to dig up the earth and begin living under it because that's probably the only Kendrick song I've heard because it was among some fabulous other songs gifted to me in a treasured pen drive full of some of my favourite music which to this day I live for and listen to, and this pen drive I had plugged into my brother's car and 'bitch don't kill my vibe' was the very first song that began playing.
We'd never heard the song before and the sheer genius of the extraordinary near Shakespearean wordage sent both me and my sibling into a tizzy of confusion and I had to, in fact, unplug the drive just to check if I was carrying the correct one, which I was; then how was it that a song with the vocal variations of a comatose ant and the libretto of illiterate rats doing among a collection of beautiful music. Of course, the track was skipped and never heard of again, but phew! Kendrick Lamar is not someone I'd listen to ever again. No sir. That music isn't my jam, my beat, my anything, moreover, I have reason enough to believe that it accelerates the death of grey cells.
In other news, someone who really did know how to make music, who was an educator, who established the reality of rhythm and smooth chaos of delicious saxophone tones in jazz 'Nathan Davis' died this month. An antithesis, if anything to the blemish that is Kendrick Lamar's music and lyrics, and no, the greatness that was this wonderful saxophonist, never won a Pulitzer.
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