Beats' Beats (Studio Speaker Edition): Curren$y - Audio Dope II (Instrumental)
Senior Year would be starting in just a few short days...
And Ace Ortega aka'd Ace Beats aka'd AB aka'd Beats in Da Cleats and in Da Sheets aka'd most of the time as just plain old Ace was brimming with excitement. So much excitement that he had allowed for his hallowed ground and shrine, his home studio and bedroom, to be infiltrated by an outsider...though he figured as far as outsiders went, Ramsey was an alright dude. Ace didn't particularly like having people in his home but today he had to make an exception and further exploration made it clear why...
Ace's room was in many ways a reflection of the young man himself--it was simple, utilitarian and clean. Two black and white photographs of Juicy J and Barry Sanders were framed on white walls, the only pictures present and the only decoration aside from the trophies and ribbons that decorated the wall and top of his dresser. The floor was carpeted, vaccum'd twice a day and his bed was raised on a black wooden frame with white sheets and black pillows. The pièce de résistance of his room was without a doubt the large iMac and 49 note Akai keyboard and drumkit that had gotten plenty of use over the last year or so.The new toy, the whole reason he had invited Ramsey(the only person he knew with any sort of respect for the genre of Hip-Hop) to his room was to test that baby out.
He had helped his father install 3 A/C's for the money to get it...
His baby...the golden, nay, the blue ticket...
Blue Ivy Ortega.
The door to his room was glass so it could be seen into, a small sacrifice as it was also a door he had gotten from an old recording studio his father had done A/C work on and it was great for sound proofing the room. Ace hadn't managed to bring any women to his house either and so the lack of privacy hadn't really been an issue. The music was blasting and the mic was on record, Ace didn't trust his own ability to rap a full sixteen or a song that made sense but he could spit some raunchy bars with a modicum of mediocrity. He figured he'd record him and Ramsey performance style and just add effects and ad-libs later.
"A'ight Rams," he said with a degree of grittiness in his voice trying to do his best gangsta rap impression, "Let's get it! Ace Beats! The G.H.H.S Balluh! Comin' straight off tha dome, in his own home, only got respect for da real--fuck da clones!"
Oh shi--! That ain't half bad! Alright! Focus! Focus! Don't lose the juice now Beats!
"Uh, yeah," he paused, "Uh, yeah," he paused again, "Uh, yeah," he was clearly making stylistic decisions, "Uh, yeah," high artistry incoming, "Fuck, shit..."
You havin' an 8-Mile moment in your own room, b?
"24/Vick never wore a condom on my dick," well, that was true, "Bitches let me hit cuz they know I'm the shit," that was not, "My wrist--I flick! Cuz these bricks--I flip," he could barely sell World's Finest Chocolate for jersey money, "If we talkin' strong AB gonna need a whole zip fo' his gas station trip--like Bic, I'm lit!"
He had never drank alcohol, smoked a cigarette or even used a Bic lighter in his life.
He shuffled his shoulders a bit and then he playfully shoved Ramsey who was sitting in a chair in front of him...
International Freestyle language for "Homie! Help! Me!"
Freestyle Friday
Summer 2017, Ortega & Cortez Productions
Freestyle Friday
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Ramsey coldly nodded at Juice as a familiar instrumental kicked in. Smooth distortion on the 808.
"The G.H.H.S Balluh! Comin' straight off tha dome, in his own home, only got respect for da real--fuck da clones!"
"Ay."
Melody had some trop vibe to it. Cool shit Ramsey could jerk the neck to. Couldn't blame a dude if he wanted to dance. Even threw down with the shoulders and wrists too. Shit was the running man only Ramsey was posted in a chair worth more than the stuff piled in his own bedroom.
Boi Beats spent about eight bars dicking around but then he started to spit.
"24/Vick never wore a condom on my dick,"
"Peen."
"Bitches let me hit cuz they know I'm the shit,"
"Whoo..!" Ramsey also knew it was pretty untrue but dudes could at least pretend they were hype. Ramsey at least had some muscles to work with when he flexed to the beat.
"My wrist--I flick! Cuz these bricks--I flip,"
"Cakes," and Ramsey worked the invisible pan like he was frying batter for his sisters.
"If we talkin' strong AB gonna need a whole zip fo' his gas station trip--like Bic, I'm lit!"
Ramsey clutched his hand around the phantom lighter. Snipped it once and breathed out the crisp tinder and flint adlib. Just in time to catch the next few bars for himself as Beats tossed it over.
Ramsey quickly leaned forward in his chair half his hand to his forehead. Work time meant serious business. Still meant he was bumping the body language fluently though. Ramsey made nead nodding the iciest shit.
"Burn it up..."
"Smoke."
"... Wrist ice and drugs... that the coke,"
Next phrase after the melody ducked out,
"... Freestyle bars,"
"Jokes."
"Hurt you like a gun, the first time I spoke."
And Ramsey started running syllables double time. Delivery rushed a bit like Amazon Prime.
"Poke poke, go the bloke,"
"Broke broke, on your neck,"
"Peck peck, kiss the ring,"
"Get get, get the bling."
"Bing bing that's jackpot, you crackpot like asphalt..."
Ramsey fell off the beat quick.
"Shit." He leaned back with a lazy grin. He'd managed to burn rubber for a bit there. "Whose beat is this?"
"The G.H.H.S Balluh! Comin' straight off tha dome, in his own home, only got respect for da real--fuck da clones!"
"Ay."
Melody had some trop vibe to it. Cool shit Ramsey could jerk the neck to. Couldn't blame a dude if he wanted to dance. Even threw down with the shoulders and wrists too. Shit was the running man only Ramsey was posted in a chair worth more than the stuff piled in his own bedroom.
Boi Beats spent about eight bars dicking around but then he started to spit.
"24/Vick never wore a condom on my dick,"
"Peen."
"Bitches let me hit cuz they know I'm the shit,"
"Whoo..!" Ramsey also knew it was pretty untrue but dudes could at least pretend they were hype. Ramsey at least had some muscles to work with when he flexed to the beat.
"My wrist--I flick! Cuz these bricks--I flip,"
"Cakes," and Ramsey worked the invisible pan like he was frying batter for his sisters.
"If we talkin' strong AB gonna need a whole zip fo' his gas station trip--like Bic, I'm lit!"
Ramsey clutched his hand around the phantom lighter. Snipped it once and breathed out the crisp tinder and flint adlib. Just in time to catch the next few bars for himself as Beats tossed it over.
Ramsey quickly leaned forward in his chair half his hand to his forehead. Work time meant serious business. Still meant he was bumping the body language fluently though. Ramsey made nead nodding the iciest shit.
"Burn it up..."
"Smoke."
"... Wrist ice and drugs... that the coke,"
Next phrase after the melody ducked out,
"... Freestyle bars,"
"Jokes."
"Hurt you like a gun, the first time I spoke."
And Ramsey started running syllables double time. Delivery rushed a bit like Amazon Prime.
"Poke poke, go the bloke,"
"Broke broke, on your neck,"
"Peck peck, kiss the ring,"
"Get get, get the bling."
"Bing bing that's jackpot, you crackpot like asphalt..."
Ramsey fell off the beat quick.
"Shit." He leaned back with a lazy grin. He'd managed to burn rubber for a bit there. "Whose beat is this?"
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Unlike Ramsey, Beats was not one for the ad-libs--he had a producers mentality when listening to others create and that required a degree of silence. He mostly reacted to Rams' display with healthy head bopping and stank faces, trying his best to make his gasps and ooh's and ahh's silent. When his fellow Horned Owl fell off in his rhymes, Ace quickly spun his chair and hit pause on the beat and the microphone.
That didn't seem half bad in the moment though!
He gave Ramsey a quick and aggressive slap of the hand and grinned at him eagerly...
"Damn Rams, I didn't even know it was like that--you got the potential to be a real, genuine, problem in the stu," he said with a raised eyebrow, "That flow and cadence man? I got a basketball metaphor, you can't coach height, that shit is like, y'know, innate talent and what not."
He nodded his head knowingly, Ace was really protective and defensive about his studio and his creative process but there was something freeing and calming in just ripping YouTube beats and messing around with a school friend. Ace had felt somewhat stunted in how he protected himself and his beats. You had kids like Lil' Pump out there acting a fool and living their lives to the fullest at like fifteen. Ace always felt like he had too much to lose. He was an only child, his parents both had decent and decent paying jobs and he had been told since he was eight that his legs were his golden ticket. To mess up the ride by getting face tattoos and drinking lean seemed like bad taste.
Guilt into self discipline...
I'm too much of a good southern boy for my own damn good. Bless my black heart.
He nodded to his friend and began talking as he searched for another song to start playing...
"That is a song called Audio Dope II by the man Spitta, Currensy, with a dollar sign as the S, cuz he's all about his money, of course," he grinned, "I got put on to him in like the seventh grade, he's pothead rap so a lotta the music blurs, but he's the Stoned Poet of Louisiana, ya gotta fuck with it."
He clapped his hands and pumped his fist with excess enthusiasm...
"Here's another Spitta jam, some groovy and funky shit to get the brain juices movin'," he laughed, "Let's approach this next beat with a level of like, tactical and strategical brilliance--some foresight and shit. What you in the mood to make a song 'bout? What type of sound you wanna go for? We gonna just 'Type Beat' this joint until we get something good. Low effort, high output--the Lil' B model."
Beats' Beats (Studio Speaker Edition pt. II): Big K.R.I.T. ft. Curren$y and Killa Kyleon - Moon & Stars (Remix)
That didn't seem half bad in the moment though!
He gave Ramsey a quick and aggressive slap of the hand and grinned at him eagerly...
"Damn Rams, I didn't even know it was like that--you got the potential to be a real, genuine, problem in the stu," he said with a raised eyebrow, "That flow and cadence man? I got a basketball metaphor, you can't coach height, that shit is like, y'know, innate talent and what not."
He nodded his head knowingly, Ace was really protective and defensive about his studio and his creative process but there was something freeing and calming in just ripping YouTube beats and messing around with a school friend. Ace had felt somewhat stunted in how he protected himself and his beats. You had kids like Lil' Pump out there acting a fool and living their lives to the fullest at like fifteen. Ace always felt like he had too much to lose. He was an only child, his parents both had decent and decent paying jobs and he had been told since he was eight that his legs were his golden ticket. To mess up the ride by getting face tattoos and drinking lean seemed like bad taste.
Guilt into self discipline...
I'm too much of a good southern boy for my own damn good. Bless my black heart.
He nodded to his friend and began talking as he searched for another song to start playing...
"That is a song called Audio Dope II by the man Spitta, Currensy, with a dollar sign as the S, cuz he's all about his money, of course," he grinned, "I got put on to him in like the seventh grade, he's pothead rap so a lotta the music blurs, but he's the Stoned Poet of Louisiana, ya gotta fuck with it."
He clapped his hands and pumped his fist with excess enthusiasm...
"Here's another Spitta jam, some groovy and funky shit to get the brain juices movin'," he laughed, "Let's approach this next beat with a level of like, tactical and strategical brilliance--some foresight and shit. What you in the mood to make a song 'bout? What type of sound you wanna go for? We gonna just 'Type Beat' this joint until we get something good. Low effort, high output--the Lil' B model."
Beats' Beats (Studio Speaker Edition pt. II): Big K.R.I.T. ft. Curren$y and Killa Kyleon - Moon & Stars (Remix)
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Beat fell off and was gone to the wind. That left the two dudes with fresh meat for throats. Ramsey cracked two knuckles on the hand that Beats gave his props up to.
"Not gonna lie man, that one felt good." Ramsey worked that sort of smile that was confident but not asshole-for-mouth. Ramsey was no sort of Pres. Canon. "Sorry to say though, I come up a bit short on both the court and the bars." Ramsey had to let that one settle for a second though. Short. Silence was the shit anyways. Ramsey like to think not enough people knew how to let their verbs and nouns settle.
Maybe not Beats especially. Dude was too on one to be held down by zen or Buddhism. Whatever shit that was.
"Mmm, yeah." Ramsey nodded contemplative-like. "I don't need the highlights reel though. Carrollton was one of my favorite projects last year." Two fingers together like it was grams or a nail needing a hammer in his grasp. "The samples, I think they were samples. Burning up. Pianos like Elton John or some white ass boy like that, y'know?"
Ramsey shut up after. Beat was running off the speakers. Meant Ramsey had to focus on the war council five-star general shit. By the time the drums hit Ramsey was leaning right into the beat. Nodding with the eyes closed.
"Type of beat to awkwardly strike out with a girl with," Ramsey said simply. His recent break up with his girlfriend was well known by that point. Emily and Ramsey the ex-power cuties who'd promised to just stay friends. The sort of mature novel drama that made for a couple of bars you could feel with a deep sigh. Ramsey supposed. Bit awkward to be venting the emotes with his casual rap friend but he trusted Beats. Nothing wrong the 'worse' part of the 'for better or worse' clause of best bro-dom.
His head continued to metronome tick like a clock.
"I dunno, I might spit some catharsis over this shit. Low key, I got some thoughts to put ink on." Ramsey shrug. "I'm not hearing Drake on this or some shit but it has that kinda twang to it." Ramsey stopped nodding and settled back into his seat. Rode the vibe for a bit.
"Not gonna lie man, that one felt good." Ramsey worked that sort of smile that was confident but not asshole-for-mouth. Ramsey was no sort of Pres. Canon. "Sorry to say though, I come up a bit short on both the court and the bars." Ramsey had to let that one settle for a second though. Short. Silence was the shit anyways. Ramsey like to think not enough people knew how to let their verbs and nouns settle.
Maybe not Beats especially. Dude was too on one to be held down by zen or Buddhism. Whatever shit that was.
"Mmm, yeah." Ramsey nodded contemplative-like. "I don't need the highlights reel though. Carrollton was one of my favorite projects last year." Two fingers together like it was grams or a nail needing a hammer in his grasp. "The samples, I think they were samples. Burning up. Pianos like Elton John or some white ass boy like that, y'know?"
Ramsey shut up after. Beat was running off the speakers. Meant Ramsey had to focus on the war council five-star general shit. By the time the drums hit Ramsey was leaning right into the beat. Nodding with the eyes closed.
"Type of beat to awkwardly strike out with a girl with," Ramsey said simply. His recent break up with his girlfriend was well known by that point. Emily and Ramsey the ex-power cuties who'd promised to just stay friends. The sort of mature novel drama that made for a couple of bars you could feel with a deep sigh. Ramsey supposed. Bit awkward to be venting the emotes with his casual rap friend but he trusted Beats. Nothing wrong the 'worse' part of the 'for better or worse' clause of best bro-dom.
His head continued to metronome tick like a clock.
"I dunno, I might spit some catharsis over this shit. Low key, I got some thoughts to put ink on." Ramsey shrug. "I'm not hearing Drake on this or some shit but it has that kinda twang to it." Ramsey stopped nodding and settled back into his seat. Rode the vibe for a bit.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
"Hey man!"
Ace said with a degree of seriousness on his face before placing a hand in consolation on Rams' shoulder.
"The studio is a safe space," he said calmly, "You don't gotta be ashamed to like Drizzy here."
He grinned but then flipped his chair around and began typing on his keyboard. So Ramsey wanted to get in about his troubles with the ladies, huh? Ace couldn't relate but he couldn't disagree either. Nobody had stirred his little precious junies in High School quite yet and as such he had avoided a lot of the drama. Besides the point, he was trying to go Division 1 and NFL afterwards. He didn't need to get laid or be tied down to some girl in High School and be stuck with an STD, a baby or even worse,Drake like rhymes. He had girls, super models in fact that he was saving his stamina for...
Which means I got super models I'm savin' my camera for!
That's a great rhyme--if only it was true.
It's called speakin' the shit into existence bro, don't kill my vibe!
"Something with a Drake type twang but not Drake, let's see what Chef Beats can cook up for RamRams."
Beats was chuckling at his own jokes and nodding sagely at his computer screen...
"So Drake went on the remix of this joint but it ain't his song, Fabo and 3Stacks are the one who killed the remix though, if we being real," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "We got a simple rhythm and minimalist flow but you can get real grizzly and hard on this thing. Fuck, even Tyga killed this beat and he's whack as shit. Old enough to pull the nostalgia strings and recent enough that we don't sound like some whack ass old head dudes. Lotta rappers poured their heart on this joint, let's add another couple!"
Beats' Beats (Studio Speaker Edition pt. III): Chris Brown - Deuces (Instrumental)
"Kick it off b, spit till you run outta muthafuckin' breath."
Ace said with a degree of seriousness on his face before placing a hand in consolation on Rams' shoulder.
"The studio is a safe space," he said calmly, "You don't gotta be ashamed to like Drizzy here."
He grinned but then flipped his chair around and began typing on his keyboard. So Ramsey wanted to get in about his troubles with the ladies, huh? Ace couldn't relate but he couldn't disagree either. Nobody had stirred his little precious junies in High School quite yet and as such he had avoided a lot of the drama. Besides the point, he was trying to go Division 1 and NFL afterwards. He didn't need to get laid or be tied down to some girl in High School and be stuck with an STD, a baby or even worse,Drake like rhymes. He had girls, super models in fact that he was saving his stamina for...
Which means I got super models I'm savin' my camera for!
That's a great rhyme--if only it was true.
It's called speakin' the shit into existence bro, don't kill my vibe!
"Something with a Drake type twang but not Drake, let's see what Chef Beats can cook up for RamRams."
Beats was chuckling at his own jokes and nodding sagely at his computer screen...
"So Drake went on the remix of this joint but it ain't his song, Fabo and 3Stacks are the one who killed the remix though, if we being real," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "We got a simple rhythm and minimalist flow but you can get real grizzly and hard on this thing. Fuck, even Tyga killed this beat and he's whack as shit. Old enough to pull the nostalgia strings and recent enough that we don't sound like some whack ass old head dudes. Lotta rappers poured their heart on this joint, let's add another couple!"
Beats' Beats (Studio Speaker Edition pt. III): Chris Brown - Deuces (Instrumental)
"Kick it off b, spit till you run outta muthafuckin' breath."
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Ramsey didn't smile back. Nodded quick and wore the heavy eyes and lip all the while. He wasn't trying to take this outfit too seriously but he was tempted to be at least a little bit extra in character.
"I'm just saying man. It's like, the style or the metaphor or something." Didn't even need to defend himself. His dude knew what was up it was just the flex of the reflex.
"Alright though, I'm not so feeling myself that I'll take on RamRams as the new moniker. I'm not a cartoon character or some shit." Ramsey exhaled pointedly when he heard the first synth stabs on the beat. Familiar song and he'd only been born yesterday. "Shit, didn't even know Drake ever hopped on this. I can hear his fucking tone snapping right on top of the melody though. Yo. Yo." Ramsey let a full sixteen bars or so pass.
Beats with the music history or whatever. Channeling his inner airhorn-suffused monologue. Power 106 classic.
"Yeah. Yo, yo." Melody hit the final few bars, switched up. "Yo." And it was back.
"Run me out of breath, yeah,
run me out of chest.
Gettin' out of cage.
Running out of rest," pause.
"Tired, I don't stop, hm. Moving like that opps, yeah. They're missing their shots, yeah. Dry, no alcohols."
Ramsey was feeling it pretty gratuitous. Related words and rhymes pumped breaks through the traffic jam piled up like a collision in his head. He could remember Emily's face and voice. Couldn't just not do that really. The memories were quiet and plain but they spoke loud. Echoed a bit. He remembered she was pretty but that had always felt more like a guess than a statement.
Didn't know where he was going with this beat.
"Balled like Drake forever,
Still we ain't together,
I'm alright with never.
..."
The last bar went by without Ramsey's mouth opening. It actually was open a bit but sound refused to come out. Ramsey froze up. When the repeat came back he whistled lowly and leaned back into his chair.
"Lost it. Take us back real quick, Beats. Body them with that singing shit."
"I'm just saying man. It's like, the style or the metaphor or something." Didn't even need to defend himself. His dude knew what was up it was just the flex of the reflex.
"Alright though, I'm not so feeling myself that I'll take on RamRams as the new moniker. I'm not a cartoon character or some shit." Ramsey exhaled pointedly when he heard the first synth stabs on the beat. Familiar song and he'd only been born yesterday. "Shit, didn't even know Drake ever hopped on this. I can hear his fucking tone snapping right on top of the melody though. Yo. Yo." Ramsey let a full sixteen bars or so pass.
Beats with the music history or whatever. Channeling his inner airhorn-suffused monologue. Power 106 classic.
"Yeah. Yo, yo." Melody hit the final few bars, switched up. "Yo." And it was back.
"Run me out of breath, yeah,
run me out of chest.
Gettin' out of cage.
Running out of rest," pause.
"Tired, I don't stop, hm. Moving like that opps, yeah. They're missing their shots, yeah. Dry, no alcohols."
Ramsey was feeling it pretty gratuitous. Related words and rhymes pumped breaks through the traffic jam piled up like a collision in his head. He could remember Emily's face and voice. Couldn't just not do that really. The memories were quiet and plain but they spoke loud. Echoed a bit. He remembered she was pretty but that had always felt more like a guess than a statement.
Didn't know where he was going with this beat.
"Balled like Drake forever,
Still we ain't together,
I'm alright with never.
..."
The last bar went by without Ramsey's mouth opening. It actually was open a bit but sound refused to come out. Ramsey froze up. When the repeat came back he whistled lowly and leaned back into his chair.
"Lost it. Take us back real quick, Beats. Body them with that singing shit."
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Oh shit Cortez...
I see you, you serious now--this must be some real shit!
Ace couldn't relate and it was a little intimidating, Ramsey was probably not as lyrical or knowledgeable as Ace Beats but he had a degree of rawness and a primal way of expressing himself that Ace could recognize. He bopped his head and felt his friend let loose and lose his footing, fumbling a bit before handling the ball to Beats. He stuttered and sputtered in the face but his voice exited with a certain amount of hype. The stage had been his oldest friend, the spotlight the only vice he needed. When put under pressure? Ace Beats often tried his best to make diamonds.
"Uh, yeah, let's run it back
I'm known as the runnin' back
But let's just stick to facts
Allow me to run it back
Was considered a rogue
I was chillin' alone"
A narrative? Ambitious Ace, don't lose the shit now...
"Then shawty came twice, and y'know how that go
Made my heart a home
Gettin' in and outta my zone
Playin' 12 on ma phone
IG Traps and Snap Acts the only truth I've known"
What was he saying? Who was he talking about? Ace didn't know but he felt the lyrics come out of his mouth with a large amount of ease. He thought most people in high school were putting on an act. He doubted the authenticity of a lot of folks and maybe that's why he had always been defiantly and aggressively his over excitable and dorky self.
"So yeah, I gotta bone
For the world to pick and for you to suck
Used to care too much
Now my attitude celibate
Idungivafuck."
He slammed his finger into the spacebar and cut off the beat at that point, nodding his head and then shaking it vigorously...close, but not quite it. They were both trying to say something but couldn't articulate it. It needed to be drawn out, of both Ace and Ramsey proper and Ace was just the person to do it! It was a producers job to play point guard in the studio! It was a Running Backs job to set the tone for the offense...
"Not bad but not quite what we lookin' for, I think we gettin' close but we gotta plan the lyrics a bit more...we got theme but no substance, ja feel?"
"I dunno Acito, I thought y'all were soundin' pretty good," said a voice from the doorway, "Almost made me not think you wastin' all that money on that microphone was a bad decision."
Ace turned his chair around quickly to see his father, standing shorter than him at around 5'9" but still possessing a wide body and fair amount of strength in his long brown arms. His tanned skin was taut and red from working in the sun all day but his face had a near matching grin with Ace's crowned by a very thick black mustache. He waved to Ramsey with a good amount of courtesy. Ace hadn't noticed his father walk up and creak open the door to his studio/room.
What had he been saying about the lack of privacy not being much of an issue?
"What you doin' here viejo?", he said in a tone that was supposed to be joking but sounded accusatory, "I thought I wasn't going to your house until Sunday afternoon?"
"Er, well...you aren't, but I'm takin' your Ma out to sushi, just figured I'd ask if you would want some?"
"I'm good."
"You and your buddy can come with us if you'd like Ace..."
"I'm good Pops," he said with a degree of finality, "You and Mom enjoy each other. Me and Rams are takin' care of business."
His father shook his head and waved his hand then...
"Figured, but thought I'd ask, you guys have fun."
And just as soon as he had came, Mike Ortega had left. Ace turned to his computer and tried looking for another beat but he was clearly a little frustrated...
"No respect for privacy...", he muttered, "None at fuckin' all."
He sighed and shook his head...
"Any suggestion for another beat? I'll let you pick the next one...let's not let that interruption fuck up the mojo and shit."
I see you, you serious now--this must be some real shit!
Ace couldn't relate and it was a little intimidating, Ramsey was probably not as lyrical or knowledgeable as Ace Beats but he had a degree of rawness and a primal way of expressing himself that Ace could recognize. He bopped his head and felt his friend let loose and lose his footing, fumbling a bit before handling the ball to Beats. He stuttered and sputtered in the face but his voice exited with a certain amount of hype. The stage had been his oldest friend, the spotlight the only vice he needed. When put under pressure? Ace Beats often tried his best to make diamonds.
"Uh, yeah, let's run it back
I'm known as the runnin' back
But let's just stick to facts
Allow me to run it back
Was considered a rogue
I was chillin' alone"
A narrative? Ambitious Ace, don't lose the shit now...
"Then shawty came twice, and y'know how that go
Made my heart a home
Gettin' in and outta my zone
Playin' 12 on ma phone
IG Traps and Snap Acts the only truth I've known"
What was he saying? Who was he talking about? Ace didn't know but he felt the lyrics come out of his mouth with a large amount of ease. He thought most people in high school were putting on an act. He doubted the authenticity of a lot of folks and maybe that's why he had always been defiantly and aggressively his over excitable and dorky self.
"So yeah, I gotta bone
For the world to pick and for you to suck
Used to care too much
Now my attitude celibate
Idungivafuck."
He slammed his finger into the spacebar and cut off the beat at that point, nodding his head and then shaking it vigorously...close, but not quite it. They were both trying to say something but couldn't articulate it. It needed to be drawn out, of both Ace and Ramsey proper and Ace was just the person to do it! It was a producers job to play point guard in the studio! It was a Running Backs job to set the tone for the offense...
"Not bad but not quite what we lookin' for, I think we gettin' close but we gotta plan the lyrics a bit more...we got theme but no substance, ja feel?"
"I dunno Acito, I thought y'all were soundin' pretty good," said a voice from the doorway, "Almost made me not think you wastin' all that money on that microphone was a bad decision."
Ace turned his chair around quickly to see his father, standing shorter than him at around 5'9" but still possessing a wide body and fair amount of strength in his long brown arms. His tanned skin was taut and red from working in the sun all day but his face had a near matching grin with Ace's crowned by a very thick black mustache. He waved to Ramsey with a good amount of courtesy. Ace hadn't noticed his father walk up and creak open the door to his studio/room.
What had he been saying about the lack of privacy not being much of an issue?
"What you doin' here viejo?", he said in a tone that was supposed to be joking but sounded accusatory, "I thought I wasn't going to your house until Sunday afternoon?"
"Er, well...you aren't, but I'm takin' your Ma out to sushi, just figured I'd ask if you would want some?"
"I'm good."
"You and your buddy can come with us if you'd like Ace..."
"I'm good Pops," he said with a degree of finality, "You and Mom enjoy each other. Me and Rams are takin' care of business."
His father shook his head and waved his hand then...
"Figured, but thought I'd ask, you guys have fun."
And just as soon as he had came, Mike Ortega had left. Ace turned to his computer and tried looking for another beat but he was clearly a little frustrated...
"No respect for privacy...", he muttered, "None at fuckin' all."
He sighed and shook his head...
"Any suggestion for another beat? I'll let you pick the next one...let's not let that interruption fuck up the mojo and shit."
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
"Uh, yeah, let's run it back
I'm known as the runnin' back-" "Runnin'."
"But let's just stick to facts
Allow me to run it back-" "Forrest,"
Was considered a rogue
I was chillin' alone-" "Peace."
"Then shawty came twice, and y'know how that go-" "How."
Made my heart a home-" "Ca-sa."
Gettin' in and outta my zone-" "Damn."
Playin' 12 on ma phone
IG Traps and Snap Acts the only truth I've known" "Known."
"So yeah, I gotta bone- "Hard."
For the world to pick and for you to suck
Used to care too much
Now my attitude celibate
Idungivafuck-" "Nah."
Ramsey punched the air a bit when the beat paused. He grinned too. Ace hadn't kept entirely on the beat but dude had been cold and refreshing. Thirst quenching like rain. A story of a girl and multiple O's didn't check out but studio time wasn't fact checking time. Ramsey threw a few more left hooks and exhaled heavy.
"Shit, alright. We're on one here, dude." He spoke when Ace breathed. Shut up when Daddy Beats suddenly showed his face.
Ramsey waved back with a common look and nod.
Problem was that Ace's old man was pretty all up in his son's business. Ramsey didn't know shit about privacy in a three bedroom home split between himself and four sisters. Say nothing of the irreverent parentals. In this home though privacy and respect for closed doors was a premium. Even if that closed door was a glass door. Ramsey respected the chip on Ace's shoulder about this whole thing. He listened in silence. Insisted he was fine on the sushi in silence.
The door closed and Ramsey shook his head.
"Father figure just trying his best... What if you hung a poster on the door or something, y'know. Maybe your old man would get the point a little better." Ramsey let that suggestion hang and air dry. Moved on.
"Where were we..." He stood up and crossed his arms. Hovered just close enough to Ace's shoulder to peep the screen. "We need something smooth like... Alicia Keys or John Legend or something, get me? Then we trade bars. Maybe do that whole storytelling thing you were just on, like... Warren G and Nate Dogg on that one classic outfit."
I'm known as the runnin' back-" "Runnin'."
"But let's just stick to facts
Allow me to run it back-" "Forrest,"
Was considered a rogue
I was chillin' alone-" "Peace."
"Then shawty came twice, and y'know how that go-" "How."
Made my heart a home-" "Ca-sa."
Gettin' in and outta my zone-" "Damn."
Playin' 12 on ma phone
IG Traps and Snap Acts the only truth I've known" "Known."
"So yeah, I gotta bone- "Hard."
For the world to pick and for you to suck
Used to care too much
Now my attitude celibate
Idungivafuck-" "Nah."
Ramsey punched the air a bit when the beat paused. He grinned too. Ace hadn't kept entirely on the beat but dude had been cold and refreshing. Thirst quenching like rain. A story of a girl and multiple O's didn't check out but studio time wasn't fact checking time. Ramsey threw a few more left hooks and exhaled heavy.
"Shit, alright. We're on one here, dude." He spoke when Ace breathed. Shut up when Daddy Beats suddenly showed his face.
Ramsey waved back with a common look and nod.
Problem was that Ace's old man was pretty all up in his son's business. Ramsey didn't know shit about privacy in a three bedroom home split between himself and four sisters. Say nothing of the irreverent parentals. In this home though privacy and respect for closed doors was a premium. Even if that closed door was a glass door. Ramsey respected the chip on Ace's shoulder about this whole thing. He listened in silence. Insisted he was fine on the sushi in silence.
The door closed and Ramsey shook his head.
"Father figure just trying his best... What if you hung a poster on the door or something, y'know. Maybe your old man would get the point a little better." Ramsey let that suggestion hang and air dry. Moved on.
"Where were we..." He stood up and crossed his arms. Hovered just close enough to Ace's shoulder to peep the screen. "We need something smooth like... Alicia Keys or John Legend or something, get me? Then we trade bars. Maybe do that whole storytelling thing you were just on, like... Warren G and Nate Dogg on that one classic outfit."
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
"Yeah, I know what he's doin'...", Ace grumbled, "Just wish he'd try a little less."
His father and mother had been seeing a lot more of each other as off late. That was fine. Ace was a child of divorce and had compartmentalized and rationalized his domestic situation at a very young age, thank you very much! Still it was a little much for his father to want a picture perfect Leave it to Beaver ideal 17 years after he and Ace's mother separated.
"I've been thinkin' about getting some blackout curtains and nailing em to it, but I've just been busy y'know?", he said sounding much more like a teenager than a gangster rapper, "Football is getting pretty serious and the folks at UM keep saying that if I match the numbers from last year this year, they'll give me a scholarship and shit. It's pretty stressful man. The stu been gettin' neglected as a result."
He was an over sharer, that was for sure, Ramsey didn't need to hear or be burdened by Ace's explanation...still Ace felt obligated to give it.
Thankfully Ramsey changed the subject back to the real important things--the rappity raps! The hippity-hop! That funk, that sweet, that nasty, that gushy stuff.
"Man, I can get you with somethin', Alicia Keys might be my first love and shit," he said with a lazy grin, "No one, no one, no ooooooooooooooone..."
He sang and hummed to himself trying his best to change his own internal emotions by the second before feverishly typing in something on YouTube and then with a series of clicks, downloading it and having the file up in ProTools for them to rap over it. Muscle memory. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, you know the deal.
Beats' Beats (Studio Speaker Edition pt. IV): Alicia Keys - Un-thinkable (I'm Ready)((Instrumental)) "Alright, let me kick it," he said as the beat kicked on, it was pretty quick but if he kept the bars short and ducked in and out, leaving openings for Ramsey, their vision might come together...
"Fallin' like Alicia
Smokin' all the reefah
Couldn't see at all
But now my vision clearuh..."
Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up!
His father and mother had been seeing a lot more of each other as off late. That was fine. Ace was a child of divorce and had compartmentalized and rationalized his domestic situation at a very young age, thank you very much! Still it was a little much for his father to want a picture perfect Leave it to Beaver ideal 17 years after he and Ace's mother separated.
"I've been thinkin' about getting some blackout curtains and nailing em to it, but I've just been busy y'know?", he said sounding much more like a teenager than a gangster rapper, "Football is getting pretty serious and the folks at UM keep saying that if I match the numbers from last year this year, they'll give me a scholarship and shit. It's pretty stressful man. The stu been gettin' neglected as a result."
He was an over sharer, that was for sure, Ramsey didn't need to hear or be burdened by Ace's explanation...still Ace felt obligated to give it.
Thankfully Ramsey changed the subject back to the real important things--the rappity raps! The hippity-hop! That funk, that sweet, that nasty, that gushy stuff.
"Man, I can get you with somethin', Alicia Keys might be my first love and shit," he said with a lazy grin, "No one, no one, no ooooooooooooooone..."
He sang and hummed to himself trying his best to change his own internal emotions by the second before feverishly typing in something on YouTube and then with a series of clicks, downloading it and having the file up in ProTools for them to rap over it. Muscle memory. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, you know the deal.
Beats' Beats (Studio Speaker Edition pt. IV): Alicia Keys - Un-thinkable (I'm Ready)((Instrumental)) "Alright, let me kick it," he said as the beat kicked on, it was pretty quick but if he kept the bars short and ducked in and out, leaving openings for Ramsey, their vision might come together...
"Fallin' like Alicia
Smokin' all the reefah
Couldn't see at all
But now my vision clearuh..."
Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up!
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
"Yeah, I hear you dude." Ramsey really didn't if he thought about it. It was a situation completely different from his own life. But a friend's plight was always the sort of thing Ramsey was down to work that understanding game on. Why he was still on that thinking shit as he mused aloud. "I could do it for you man. I know I'm also busy and all but drop a text and it should only take me an hour down at the store to find the right shit." Ramsey quietly trusted his own handiness. He wouldn't have made the offer otherwise.
Rest of his plan was simple enough. Mr. Ortega knew him well enough to let him in. Call it a project and that was the actual proper truth. Get that project done.
Conversation shifted anyways. No need to be too particular about the details.
"Alicia Keys was on one when she was big, dude." Ramsey agreed for the most part. Not the bit about first love. At least probably not in the same way. The instrumental came on and Ramsey was immediately nodding deep approval. Almost spiritual nostalgia. "Dude, this one's a classic." Not much time to get lost in the vibe. Ace was making the quick pass and Ramsey's reflexes were honed by years of courtside.
"Falling like Aaliyah,
Rest in peace babe we see ya.
Breaking news me-dia,
Ain't none of us be free-ya..."
Ramsey interrupted himself hastily before the beat flipped back Ace's way.
"- Yo, what about the damn hook though. Like the part in the song where Alicia's like singing, this shit here... fuck, I dunno how to scrub through this ProTools, hold up." Ramsey was tech ignant at times. Good old YouTube did the job where all the fancy producer equipment was too foreign language. So Ramsey switched windows back and clicked a specific spot. Let it run for a second.
"Like, we should plan a hook that has, you know, that English class motif shit. The core of the track, y'know?"
Rest of his plan was simple enough. Mr. Ortega knew him well enough to let him in. Call it a project and that was the actual proper truth. Get that project done.
Conversation shifted anyways. No need to be too particular about the details.
"Alicia Keys was on one when she was big, dude." Ramsey agreed for the most part. Not the bit about first love. At least probably not in the same way. The instrumental came on and Ramsey was immediately nodding deep approval. Almost spiritual nostalgia. "Dude, this one's a classic." Not much time to get lost in the vibe. Ace was making the quick pass and Ramsey's reflexes were honed by years of courtside.
"Falling like Aaliyah,
Rest in peace babe we see ya.
Breaking news me-dia,
Ain't none of us be free-ya..."
Ramsey interrupted himself hastily before the beat flipped back Ace's way.
"- Yo, what about the damn hook though. Like the part in the song where Alicia's like singing, this shit here... fuck, I dunno how to scrub through this ProTools, hold up." Ramsey was tech ignant at times. Good old YouTube did the job where all the fancy producer equipment was too foreign language. So Ramsey switched windows back and clicked a specific spot. Let it run for a second.
"Like, we should plan a hook that has, you know, that English class motif shit. The core of the track, y'know?"
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Ace normally would've been much more defensive of his studio equipment but it seemed that Ramsey was actually talking good sense!
"A hook is important, some would say integral to the whole process, I would be one of those somes, son!"
He chuckled at his own cleverness trying his best to keep the mood going to somewhere light to combat the slight discomfort his father's presence had incurred. Rapping had helped that and now getting into the actual nuts and bolts of creation made the fog of war in his mind become slightly brighter if only by artistic and social need.
"Hooks ain't really my thing though...I'm a pretty big dude, got a deep ass voice, good for rapping, bad for singing--I end up soundin' like Ja Rule and DMX got into a fight after smokin' a pack of Camel Filters."
He bopped his head at Ramsey's suggested time break and then rewound it back to that point to listen to the break down a few times. He was trying to think of something new and creative but Alicia Keys had implanted the seed long ago. Still? For mixtape rapping a call back wasn't inappropriate is it?
He hummed and muttered to himself a bit before finally clapping his hands together with a large amount of enthusiasm...
"I think I got something!"
He went to the 'hook section' of the beat in ProTools as opposed to YouTube and hit record, he was snapping his fingers and singing a bit in his low offkey baritone. A sing-songy and raspy chorus that was very much derived from Alicia Keys original...but that did mean it fit in a strange Biz Markie type way.
"I was wondering lady, does that make me shady?
Cuz I'd do the unthinkable, to fuck with you lately
If you ask me, I'm ready
If you ask me, she petty....((now that shit is heavy ((heavy))"
He clapped his hands and started working on getting the echo right on heavy before turning to Ramsey...
"You wanna give a shot at a chorus? I'll record em both and we'll see what fits, right? You're more versatile than ya boy when it comes to singing. That's more your style, no disrespect intended, actually high key jealous of that shit."
"A hook is important, some would say integral to the whole process, I would be one of those somes, son!"
He chuckled at his own cleverness trying his best to keep the mood going to somewhere light to combat the slight discomfort his father's presence had incurred. Rapping had helped that and now getting into the actual nuts and bolts of creation made the fog of war in his mind become slightly brighter if only by artistic and social need.
"Hooks ain't really my thing though...I'm a pretty big dude, got a deep ass voice, good for rapping, bad for singing--I end up soundin' like Ja Rule and DMX got into a fight after smokin' a pack of Camel Filters."
He bopped his head at Ramsey's suggested time break and then rewound it back to that point to listen to the break down a few times. He was trying to think of something new and creative but Alicia Keys had implanted the seed long ago. Still? For mixtape rapping a call back wasn't inappropriate is it?
He hummed and muttered to himself a bit before finally clapping his hands together with a large amount of enthusiasm...
"I think I got something!"
He went to the 'hook section' of the beat in ProTools as opposed to YouTube and hit record, he was snapping his fingers and singing a bit in his low offkey baritone. A sing-songy and raspy chorus that was very much derived from Alicia Keys original...but that did mean it fit in a strange Biz Markie type way.
"I was wondering lady, does that make me shady?
Cuz I'd do the unthinkable, to fuck with you lately
If you ask me, I'm ready
If you ask me, she petty....((now that shit is heavy ((heavy))"
He clapped his hands and started working on getting the echo right on heavy before turning to Ramsey...
"You wanna give a shot at a chorus? I'll record em both and we'll see what fits, right? You're more versatile than ya boy when it comes to singing. That's more your style, no disrespect intended, actually high key jealous of that shit."
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
"I end up soundin' like Ja Rule and DMX got into a fight after smokin' a pack of Camel Filters."
"Yo, that's a bar right there." Once more Ramsey hit the invisible smoke pinched between two fingers. He didn't smoke and never had but that wasn't the point. Clout was just a bunch of sort-of miming anyways. Something he'd noticed after paying enough attention to the dudes who got big streaming numbers.
They both jammed for a bit. Ramsey was thinking but not too hard. More important to let his boy's inspiration take stage. More important to gently jam. One foot tapping and one head nodding.
Ramsey stayed on standby while Beats spit the hook. Lips moving measured like raw eggs and flour. It wasn't sultry but in a way Ramsey supposed that was point. His boy had switched up the tone of the content some kinda way. Ramsey's fault anyway. He fucked with the outcome in a on-the-down-low FWB kinda way. Ramsey sounded that impressed anyways when he lowly hissed while Beats was working on the 'verb.
"Budget Drake but half Drake is still ice cold, dude."
Beats was trying to pass the torch to him. Ramsey shook his head.
"I don't know shit about singing, ain't nothing to be jealous about. But like... fuck, I mean..." Ramsey glanced in the direction of the wall as he started humming on key. The pre-chorus shit: 'you give me a feeling that I've never felt before'. Pretty helium-ass notes and Ramsey had to make his voice soft and light like he was going for his best Usher falsetto. Pretty raw sounding in the worst way. Stylistic. It was like pouring his own soul out on the rocks.
"Yeah yeah, I got something." Ramsey started mumbling it mostly on-key while continuing to pointedly not stare at Beats while he did so. Nothing against Beats or anything but this content wasn't exactly for him.
"You know me I know you I don't know if we-" and his voice warbled as he hit the highest notes in the line, "know, at all..."
He truncated the final syllable earlier than Ms. Keys. Nobody wanted to hear his dud Sinatra.
"Throwing no shit but I guess that I'm shitty- damn,"
"I know that I gotcha but I'm guessing I'm, off the wall..."
"That's what I'm saying-"
"Check it." The last bit just being his quick off-beat switch up into Beat's chorus. Ramsey raised an eyebrow at himself. He hadn't sounded bad but it still felt like he'd been singing into dead air. Saying something nobody was trying to hear.
"Yo, that's a bar right there." Once more Ramsey hit the invisible smoke pinched between two fingers. He didn't smoke and never had but that wasn't the point. Clout was just a bunch of sort-of miming anyways. Something he'd noticed after paying enough attention to the dudes who got big streaming numbers.
They both jammed for a bit. Ramsey was thinking but not too hard. More important to let his boy's inspiration take stage. More important to gently jam. One foot tapping and one head nodding.
Ramsey stayed on standby while Beats spit the hook. Lips moving measured like raw eggs and flour. It wasn't sultry but in a way Ramsey supposed that was point. His boy had switched up the tone of the content some kinda way. Ramsey's fault anyway. He fucked with the outcome in a on-the-down-low FWB kinda way. Ramsey sounded that impressed anyways when he lowly hissed while Beats was working on the 'verb.
"Budget Drake but half Drake is still ice cold, dude."
Beats was trying to pass the torch to him. Ramsey shook his head.
"I don't know shit about singing, ain't nothing to be jealous about. But like... fuck, I mean..." Ramsey glanced in the direction of the wall as he started humming on key. The pre-chorus shit: 'you give me a feeling that I've never felt before'. Pretty helium-ass notes and Ramsey had to make his voice soft and light like he was going for his best Usher falsetto. Pretty raw sounding in the worst way. Stylistic. It was like pouring his own soul out on the rocks.
"Yeah yeah, I got something." Ramsey started mumbling it mostly on-key while continuing to pointedly not stare at Beats while he did so. Nothing against Beats or anything but this content wasn't exactly for him.
"You know me I know you I don't know if we-" and his voice warbled as he hit the highest notes in the line, "know, at all..."
He truncated the final syllable earlier than Ms. Keys. Nobody wanted to hear his dud Sinatra.
"Throwing no shit but I guess that I'm shitty- damn,"
"I know that I gotcha but I'm guessing I'm, off the wall..."
"That's what I'm saying-"
"Check it." The last bit just being his quick off-beat switch up into Beat's chorus. Ramsey raised an eyebrow at himself. He hadn't sounded bad but it still felt like he'd been singing into dead air. Saying something nobody was trying to hear.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes: