Rick Ross & Ghoswriting Part II: The Pot Thickens

Miami coke seller and rapper, Rick Ross, mentioned last summer that he ghostwrites for other artists. Though as he put it, “Yeah, I does. But I ain’t gonna say no names. I don’t snitch. Ross.” So Ross wont tell. Okay, fine. Now there are reports that Ross doesn’t write his own rhymes. Yes, that means: Rick Ross, a proclaimed ghostwriter, has his own ghostwriter.

Longtime Def Jam record executive, James Delaney commented on the news break, “That stirkes me as odd. Because when I think of his lyrics from “Blow” “when I’m on the beach, all my diamonds are water blue” it just doesn’t occur to me that someone that semi-intelligent, of song writing, could stoop to such idiotic rhymes. I mean Ross’ lyrical prowess is absent. As a music critic for Def Jam, I’d never think Ross’ writings skills were great. The only reason why Def Jam seeked him, of course, is because his songs created repeatable, poppy sounding hooks. And that type of poppy rap is easily pushable to mainstream. It astounds me that for those simplistic, stupid sounding songs, Ross had to have a ghostwriter. It wouldn’t be such a reach, yet Ross is a ghostwriter himself. It’s perplexing. We know he’s stupid but with his “ghostwriting” skills, he couldn’t even conjure up “when I’m on the beach, all my diamonds are water blue”? Ironic, I guess.”

When I reached Ross, he was willing to talk about the reports, “Everybody lies. Sometimes. Everybody blushes.” I had to interject,”Are you insinuating that you wrote R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts”?” Ross, adorned with his jet black sun glasses, in a Miami stuido—with no windows mind you—responded with a blank face while shrugging his shoulders. He continued, “People gonna say this and that about Ross. Let em. Alls Ross does is write Ross’ own rhymes. They sayin Ross not clever enough, what Ross can’t write these bodacious ass hooks? Ross do it for others, so why can’t they let Ross be Ross when Ross place Ross’ name on the track?” I took that to heart but followed, “There is this authenticity missing from your songs when I play them. I’m not saying you didn’t write them—it’s just when you talk about coke so much, I find it hard to believe you would go on wax and be so conspicuous about such incriminating material.” He plainly stated, “I’m an arteest!” Okay. I’ll take that at face value. I brought up the fact that if ghostwriters are successful, that when it comes time for their own fame it is usually a miss, rather than a hit. I added that “especailly with your case: a ghostwriter who outsouces his own material. How, then, are we to believe that you even ghostwrite period?” He pussyfooted, “I got some new material that will change some minds. This upcoming record is going to be more personal.” I’m thinking ‘doesn’t every musician say that about an upcoming album? Furthermore, did he just tell me that, since his “upcoming record is going to be more personal”, his debut, “Port of Miami”, was a fabrication and one that wasn’t his?’ I opinioned, “Look at Gillie da Kid, from Philly. He made noise all summer long about ghostwriting for Lil Wayne and having his image stolen by Wayne as well. It’s weird because you are in both positions. Yet you haven’t ratted the artists you write for. How does it feel to be in Lil Wayne’s positiosn?” Ross began a game of stalemate, “You mean Gillie da Kid?” I frustratingly replied, “No, Lil Wayne. How does it feel to be in his situation, with accusations of not writing your own material and being, to the hood, a fake.” Dumbfounded again, “Gillie.” I repeated my question. Ross was defiant, “Gillie da kid? There is no Lil Wayne, only Gillie. They’re the same person.” I couldn’t bare much more, so I ended what consisted of an interview. Ross left me with these words, “Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?” I thought of his ending remarks as I boarded the empty elevator. If what Ross contends, that he penned the infectious ’95 Alanis Morrisette rebel rocker “Ironic”, then the whole world is coming to an end.