8 months ago

116

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

AIRBORNE

The Weeknd's "Often"
is an understatement/
Women come over,
and over me, a lot,
and they're rather high; elated/
Was that an overstatement?/
It's like they've taken a stand/
It would be rude to make other plans,
while giving them a hand/
They're so sweet,
like they've eaten out for Taiwanese centuries,
in going down on Dutch and Japanese entities,
just to get bad breaths for me,
like there's some; breath's mine; rising up to breathe/
Sugar's not necessary/
But I need strange breaths to be female strangers',
for feels to be truly ageless,
so a wet hand needs to be collective;
make waves up to where my stage is set/
I need to see many women at once at once,
like they're on a sexual world-tour,
telling one another what to do,
while they have Tourette's/
Fuck! Let's all just;
ingest breaths;
not in jest/
Ten or so women saw me when I sorely went and entered the plane I'm staying in/
They sat next to me,
like ten abreast,
so breasts were twenty,
but I guess they weren't weighing up any options,
coz they didn't exist/
Did they exist?/
But as I look at the way to well below the plane,
I'm thinking I'm a misfit,
and I'll miss fitting into this plane with these babes/
I could use some air/
I don't mean wind,
but their breaths on my face/
I wish this were a tandem 400-way Thai skydive of mine/
I wish the parachutes were a sheet;
that they'd all make like they're breeding and making babies over seas, overseas,
because I'll fall for them,
like I'm on a trip to my knees/
I'll make a ring in the sky with the divers, and diners,
and I won't care just where their so-long fingers lie,
so long as I'll climb right between their thighs/
If they'll like, I'll strike like a snake,
for the year, in Chinese airspace,
while I'm in the sky,
and moving at a rate sure to get others high,
and they'd come fast,
if moving to my sides/
Maybe I'll face my fate without them,
if I make myself believe that my weight's me waiting to see them again,
and I'm falling into space to be weightless,
to wait less/
Can they be Martian waitresses?,
but serving me their breaths,
in a suit they're all waiting in/
If I'm based at a base camp,
I wish to be exploring their cliff-faces/
I want that more than a raise/
I really wanna lick their clits,
like my tongue's a global flag raised;
to fly!/
I'm standing at the edge of a plane/
I'm planning to be turning a page/
Books on paper will look like they're shedding skin,
as pages are ripped away by winds at a fast rate,
and I crave change;
mingling, sans staying with single babes/
I get Taiwanese pizza,
because pearls are cheesy/
Can wedding rings be greasy?,
to slip off fingers easily/
Rings should just be by doors,
like left there, and can I get chicks' attention religiously?, please/
Can I hear the Fu Bell at the end of a period piece?/
Can women, who've well had enough of frequently bleeding over time, get a chance to speak?/
All I hear is moaning, like Lisa's,
or is this some new-world masterpiece;
sound as some Eternal Spring's being released?/