Word Soup

Word Soup


This is my inaugural post on The Spice Aisle (yay!) so I figured it might make sense for me to introduce myself. I’m Nia Forrester, and I write what I like to call ‘romantic realism’. I use that label because think it’s important to set clear and honest expectations for your readers up front. And since I break a lot of the rules of the romance genre, I never want folks to start one of my books expecting one thing, and then be crestfallen because they get something else entirely.

But enough about that. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time during my run on The Spice Aisle to bore you with details about my “process.” This time though, I want to talk about my relationship with music. ‘Dinner Music’ sounds so polite, so it’s actually kind of funny that I’d get assigned to this feature because: the music I like most in the world, and which inspires me creatively is probably the least polite in all the world. Hip hop. That’s where I find my brightest sparks when looking for ideas.

What inspires me about that genre is the absolute rawness of it, the realness of it, and the word-soupy-ness of it. Hip hop artists pay attention to rhythm, rhyme and cadence above all else. And to do that, they use words in unconventional ways, and sometimes even make words up. They’ve changed how we use language in ways that even literary fiction writers–those connoisseurs of the written word–have not managed to do.

Here’s an example of what I mean. Like … what are they even saying, right? But the fearlessness of their creativity is undeniable, even if you hate hip hop … I don’t have to like what you create musically, but I’ll always love the creativity itself.

For someone who loves words as much as I do, but is sometimes frustrated by my inability to make them convey the mood and feel I want to communicate, I really dig it that the really talented hip hop artists are brave enough to do with words all that I cannot. Well … at least not yet.

Love & Light,


P.S. I lied. I actually do know what they’re saying. So if you’re curious, hit me up and I’ll send you the lyrics. 😉



  1. Even though I can’t relate to current hip hop (I’m an old-school rap girl whose fan-girl days ended with Tupac), I understand what you’re saying about rhythm, rhyme and cadence. Can’t wait to see what else you’ll be sharing!

  2. I always find myself gravitating back to De la Soul, Mos Def and Missy Elliot. I used to try listening to Swedish hip hop (yup, it’s a thing) but I can’t get into it. 🙂

    • Kim, I love French hip hop. My SO, who is French-Senegalese informed me that ” … even the French don’t like French hip hop, babe.” Oh well. Whatever. I get ‘word soup’ with French hip hop as well. 😉

  3. Send me the lyrics Nia. It’s always been hard for me to hear lyrics because it’s the music, the beats, that I hear and am moved by. My body responds when I hear a rhythm or beat that it likes, regardless of the lyrics. So when I do/can understand lyrics (after some serious active listening), I more often than not can appreciate the creativity of the conveyed message or story., even if I dont agree with the content.

    • Riggidy-raow, Ziggidy Gadzuks, Here I go, so
      Fliggedy-flame on, g-geronimo, yo
      I biggedy-burn riggedy-rubber when I blabber great
      I miggedy-make the Wonder Twins deactivate
      It’s crazy, I’m biggedy-breakin’ backs and bustin’ lips
      I friggedy-freaked Gladys Knight and those freakin’ Pips
      Shrimps, I miggedy-make enough noise like Bamm-Bamm
      Throw boulders from Bedrock you’ll get dropped, I slam man
      So check it
      I riggedy-wreck it quick, aw shucks
      I giddedy-got the big ducks like Daddy Warbucks
      I riggedy-rocked the coca-cabana
      Banana split
      {HACK-THO} Spit, so sit
      I friggedy-freak it from here to Bangladesh
      I riggedy-rippin’ flesh plus I get fresh like this
      Swish, swiggedy-swooshed kid, you’ll get it done
      Swooshed for fun, I riggedy-rhyme like no one
      I biggedy-bum riggedy-rush chiggedy-chumps, I’m savage
      I shake ’em up and down like the Down Jones Average
      I’m cocky, like Rocky, I biggedy-bangs the best
      So tiggedy-tell your friend, chump, ’cause here comes Das EFX
      A-higgedy-hoy there matey, I giggedy-gots to flow
      My Saturday nights are live-er than Joe Piscopo
      So yo, siggedy-save the bait for Charlie Tuna
      See I be the boogie banger, like Esiason’s the Boomer
      I’m higgedy-hots to trot, I giggedy-gots the motts
      Jewels plus dreads, so toots, call me Goldilocks
      I ciggedy-catch the scoop from Peter Jennings
      Do a spin like the mag and I slide like Peggy Fleming
      Or a smiggedy-smack a fag and choke ’em up until he squeals
      I Hawiian punched the Captain and now I’m maxing with Tenille
      I piggedy-pack steel, I got a big gun
      I’m freaking the track from Brooklyn, yo, ’cause Brooklyn’s where I’m from
      Tiggedy-time to get buck wild
      Call me Butterfingers, ’cause I dippedy-drop ’nuff styles
      Iggedy eeny meeny miney moe
      Shiggedy-bop, bap I’ll snatch a rapper by his toe
      I riggedy-write my pages when I figgedy-feel the flavor
      I fliggedy-fly the friendly skies, so now I be a sky pager
      I friggedy-freaked the funka
      The rough Nestle Cruncher, word to Arch Bunker
      Give me the mike and I’ll liggedy-light it up like Uncle Fester
      Microphone checka, one two checka
      I tiggedy take no shorts, I’m not the fella
      I can even act: Stella, Stella
      Yo Stella, here ciggedy-comes the bum rush, maybe
      No Static, I niggedy-knows more kids than um, Bebe
      So higgedy-hey hey hey not Dwayne but I got props
      I biggedy-bust rhymes like Slick Rick busts shots
      So when I friggedy-freaks the funk, I’ll be the ill funk freaka
      I stiggedy-stole an apple from this bum named Bonita
      So riggedy-rub-a-dub I got the lip to make ya flip
      Bustin heads with Erik Sherman and my man Parish Smith
      Kiggedy-kiss my grits, check the jingle
      I diggedy-don’t bruise but snooze like Rip Van Winkle
      So twinkle, twinkle, twinkle little star
      I sliggedy-slam dunk like Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
      Numbskull, I piggedy-pump up like Reebok Pumps
      I friggedy-freak the stuff that makes a camel lose his humps, chumps
      So wiggedy-where’s the beef, um chief
      He figgedy-fits the mold like the gold that’s on his teeth
      I rocks ’em, I socks ’em, I drops ’em, ah-choo
      So riggedy-ready sit down, hut one, hut two
      I diggedy dot my i’s, and cross my tiggedy-t’s, bro
      I swiggedy-swing more action than Hawaii Five-O

  4. I’ve been listening to a lot of Norwegian hip hop. That probably sound like an oxymoron, but there’s some good stuff coming out of there…if you can understand the language. 🙂

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