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      'Ruff Buttlove' and Other Prison Raps

      November 17, 2012
      From the column 'Pen Pals'



      Another round of rap songs by our prison correspondent Bert Burykill.


      "Ruff Buttlove" 


      I wrote this song in 2007 while locked up at Hale Creek Correctional Facility. This was a program jail where we they woke us up at 6 AM, and we couldn’t touch our beds until 9 PM. I became an avid fan of Nescafé Colombian instant coffee at that jail. I got into a routine of drinking a big cup of the stuff and then writing for a couple hours every afternoon. I wrote a ton of songs during this period. I used to get goosebumps while I wrote if I knew it was good. I learned that song writing could be gratifying. I used to rap in the yard and rap in the bathroom and share my songs with my incarcerated of cohorts. “Buttlove” received instant approval, and I immediately incorporated that sleazy voice and cadence into my everyday speeach. The song is basically a true story about two different bonerabelles whose booties I plundered. To all the young bucks reading this: When you go to summer camp, fuck a chick in the ass. No regrets.

      The sample is from the amazing Four Tops song, “Still Waters Run Deep,” which I chopped up with the bonerably talented producer, C. Strange. We then went to the Sweatshop Recording Studio, formerly of Williamsburg and now reopened in Bushwick, and they gave it the hardcore servicing. A dude with an amazing voice happened to be there to do the hook with Levi Stubbs, and the song came out nice. Unfortunately it was never finished. There’s a video for the song floating around with me naked and humping a roasted chicken while high on dust, coke, and dope. An ill trifecta!

      "I’m Sorry"

      This is also an old tune that I wrote partially in the slammer, and then while rocking in the free world. I decided I would try to sing on this one. Singing makes me happy. I’ve been singing in the shower since I was un bebito, so I thought I’d give it a whirl on a track. I used to sing songs while I was locked up, too. I used to run in circles for miles and miles and get inspired to sing love songs in my Barry Black (the white Barry White) voice. I’m recording more of these songs.

      “I’m Sorry” was written for three different females, but it can really apply to almost any girl who has dealt with my situation of criminality. One thing I’ve learned the hard way is that my girls usually seem to have better intuitive reasoning than me. Every girl I’ve ever been with has told me, “You’re going to jail.” And then when I eventually do, they say “I told you so.” It is true that I also always tell myself that I’m going to jail, so maybe I’m psychic as well.

      I don’t really miss my old girls, because I had bad break ups with all of them. But I don’t hold anything against them. I really wish things had worked out better, and I truly am sorry about the ugly way shit turned out. It’s always the law that has torn me apart, which is a sad way to break up, because it’s not like we wanted to. I just went to prison.

      My current girlfriend makes an awesome cameo at the end of “I’m Sorry.” I believe I called her on the phone to ask about a sexcapade we had previously endeavored upon. I don’t think she was MY girl at this time, but I knew she was the one for me. I’d guess we recorded this in March 2009. It’s my main stromey C. Strange on the production as always.

      "Hot Dogs" 

      I swear I’ve never smelled a vag that is hot doggy, and I promise my girlfriend packs no such pungency. She hates the song (cuz it’s corny) but also because she thinks I’m rapping about her, which isn’t true. I sing a lot when I’m driving, and one day “pussy smells like hot dogs” popped in my head.

      C. Strange made an amazing beat in my opinion. I love dirty funky bass-driven beats with old soul samples sprinkled about, so this was my type of banger from the jump. It’s real rough still, although we only recorded it in the early summer, so I guess this is the last song I’ve done. I’ve been on hiatus, and C. Strange is busy, so I’m assed out with weird lyrics percolating through my dome and nowhere to spew them.

      I gave my best effort at singing toward the end and ad-libbing about “Peking duck pussy” (that’s some pretty good pussy) at the finale as well. I guess I’m just going to attempt singing every time I record music from now on, and maybe someday it’ll start to sound good.

      Previously: Jailhouse Rap by Bert Burykill

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      Topics: jail, prison, music, barry, white, songwriters

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