An Open Letter To Lil Wayne’s Laugh

Dear Lil Wayne’s Laugh,

I hope all is well. I wanted to write, basically, to bring to the surface a concern, something I’ve been thinking about a great deal; that is, the state of our relationship.

Things started off pleasant enough, yes: you’d show up, make yourself at home, charm everyone in the room. It wasn’t long before everyone was talking about you, recommending your stylistic approach, carrying on about this promising newcomer, one destined for prominence. You were endearing, really. I’d start my car in the morning and there you’d be, in all your whimsical glory, the audible expression of joy, joy, joy. And I’d be inspired, ready to own the minutes and take on the day with fervor and great excitement.

As of late, however, there seems to be a shift happening. You can feel it in the air, in the rustling of leaves. It’s as though, and perhaps we are all to blame, you’ve overstayed your welcome. What was once charming and novel has become all too familiar and, well, invasive. Basically, wherever I go, there you are, Lil Wayne’s Laugh. I’m not quite certain (are you stalking me?) what to make of it. I mean, you must be really, really happy.

I suppose the problem is you don’t seem natural anymore, like you forfeited your truly organic self for a more gimmicky device. Or maybe you’ve just gotten lazy and could use a good tickle (would that be weird?). It saddens me to the core if you care to know the truth.

Now. I don’t claim to be a prophet, nor the son of a prophet, but I may have, subconsciously perhaps, seen it coming. And I think it’s safe to assume others may have as well but were too, as was I, enveloped in your concerto to realize it. It was easy to become swooned by something that, naturally, boasted the characteristics of what can only be described as the audio equivalent to the Eighth Wonder of the World. In time, however, a greater truth reared its head. You were/are oddly pathological.

So where do we go from here, Lil Wayne’s Laugh? First, I would offer (from my soapbox) that you go on living. I do, though, ask that you cease to exist in the public ear. Or maybe, and I say this with the sanity of the people of our great republic in mind, just, (how do I say this?) stop cracking up over every beat you rock over. I feel its best this way. You understand.

A friend,


PS – Are you still producing endorphins? Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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