A Quote by Bubba Sparxxx

I aint choose to rhyme, Rhyming chose me. — © Bubba Sparxxx
I aint choose to rhyme, Rhyming chose me.
When people ask me, 'When are you gonna stop rhyming?' I don't know when I'm gonna stop rhyming because we all got situations. Even when I get 50 or 60 years old, if God spares my life, if I got false teeth and I'm still rhyming, I have to rhyme about that.
Rhyme to kill, rhyme to murder, rhyme to stomp, Rhyme to ill, rhyme to romp, Rhyme to smack, rhyme to shock, rhyme to roll, Rhyme to destroy anything, toy boy. On the microphone: I'm Poppa Large, big shot on the East Coast.
I love poetry. I love rhyming. Do you know, there are poets who don't rhyme? Shakespeare did not rhyme most of the time, and that's why I do not like him.
When you start rhyming, it's hard to find things that rhyme with Yauch, Horovitz and Diamond.
Versification is, indeed, indispensable for music, but rhyme, solely for rhyming's sake, most pernicious.
I saw something in you that I couldn't live without. I chose you, inside of me, and you chose me. It's not one sided, it only works when both people choose the other. You are perfect for me in every way.
Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash; Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash; Some rhyme to court the countra clash, An' raise a din; For me, an aim I never fash; I rhyme for fun.
Ladies love me when I spray the mic But there aint no "I" in snuggling Aint no "U" in "Stay the night"
The earliest English attempts at rhyming probably included words whose agreement is so slight that it deserves the name of mere 'assonance' rather than that of actual rhyme.
This is what rhyme does. In a couplet, the first rhyme is like a question to which the second rhyme is an answer. The first rhyme leaves something in the air, some unanswered business. In most quatrains, space is created between the rhyme that poses the question and the rhyme that gives the answer - it is like a pleasure deferred.
Ready for us to get it on, aint got a love to call steady.. Hope it aint like that for long, I'll be your friend if you let me
I aint dead, I aint done, I ain't scared, I aint run, no matter what, no matter what, Still I stand
Sometimes I aint so sho who's got ere a right to say when a man is crazy and when he aint. Sometimes I think it aint none of us pure crazy and aint none of us pure sane until the balance of us talks him that-a-way. It's like it aint so much what a fellow does, but it's the way the majority of folks is looking at him when he does it.
I have my faithful rhyming dictionary that sits up there on my desk, but I have to tell you, there are very few new rhymes that I didn't think of. I often just go right through the alphabet in my head when I'm looking for a rhyme.
Ever since roughly 1890, when snot poets first decided that rhyme was confining and unnecessary, every idiot with a pen fancied hisself a poet. The mere act of rhyming was suddenly regarded as a quaint, mannered, and uncool atavism, consigning doggerelists like me to the trash bin of literary history.
Did I choose you? Did you choose me? And what difference does it make? All that really matters, friend, is that we chose together.
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