8 months ago

135

The lyrics are all mine.
The cover image was generated using Leonardo.ai.
The voice and music were generated using Suno.com.
The editing was done using CapCut.
The AI manipulation of my mouth was done using Vozo AI.

Find my entire book of rap here:
https://www.amazon.com.au/Sales-Pitch-Matthew-Vandenberg/dp/1685830749

Here are the original posts, from 2016:
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/17s3BZntoL/

#LeonardoAI
#Suno
#CapCut
#VozoAI
#SalesPitch
#BookOfRap
#SuitcaseStore
#Travel
#Obsession
#Rap
#Lyrics
#AlbumDrop
#LGBTQI

SEPARATION

Fuck separating friend and date, like they're state and church; Beijing and Taipei/
Preach free lesbian love from an Elephant-mountainous pulpit/
A Bible's a boner in my pocket; rocket; A prick whom both sides don't want; shot it/
Don't bother using UV light to read the writing/
Peak between periods and see Taiwan-straight-lines/
To further be honest,
your electric gaze has me shocked when I get an idea to look into your eyes and a mental metal key to the lock on your attention-span spanning my electrons, like elections spanning the years and, like my American aware-elders and peers, I still "Hashtag: FeelTheBern", like political awareness is hot, and we're wet, when my views are firm, like a clitoral erection;
hard socialization between China and Taiwan/
This is not just sex,
it's a revolt/
This is not fresh/
Better yet, your hot breath is inflammatory mentally/
Deep breaths can stop the bankers betting with our pennies/
Breathe out one to ten times and stop some recession; spent's what to be/
Because I'll move toward you. It's an obsession/
A transaction's just enacted in working up a sweat in a race far saner than a rat race/
It's fine enough to micro-chip in now, like it's with words in edgewise, while a case is small but just as great/
But then . . . my head's spinning like a free third wheel/
I count three/
Maybe I'd rather be attached and not a free third wheel,
like Kinmen County/
Spin it/
Maybe I'm a disc of the DJ/
Maybe I'm a sad song/
Maybe I'll be replayed/
Sing it/
Maybe some statistics need re-saying/
Loneliness can kill/
So, tell everyone to keep playing/
Keep playing/
This ain't even fucking deep/
I just wrote it in my sleep/
Every catnap, I keep praying for a date/
And now I only have free months and not just days of dog days/
Men are dogs, but I'm looking for the female make,
to make waves/
Spin again/
Take no breaks/
I didn't stumble, I was flirting/
I didn't mumble, I was hurting/
I didn't bungle up my lines, I was writing about ways not working as a means of flirting/
It's for a co-worker whom I'm working, and this work's addressed to her/
I'd love to be with you/
I didn't miss missing chances, but dismissed you, ditched you, and made other plans best/
I didn't kiss you, and haven't caressed your breasts yet/
It's like I'm speaking to a brick wall that's the fairer sex,
and there's a tremor/
It's like defenses are dispensed, so I can't rent the space between us, like it's hard and heavy, so we're never together/
I wanna lift chicks up, like they're weights and they're fairly wet/
If they fall on me then finally we'll have daring sex/
In my head my muse says:
'If the weights are a fence you stand hard on, waiting with a clitoral hard-on, then kill the limbo and go for broke with new lingo you wrote'/
If floats were made of ice, they could melt, and I'd be fine with your hands on mine, but I don't know if you're cold as ice/
That's probably bold and wise/
The Asian plain I'm on is taking off;
pop!/
Prepare for takeoff/