Data Privacy Rap

I wrote a song.

Still needs work, and some better bars.

Its an internal dialogue about content creation and data privacy inspired by Ren Gill and his amazing work. Specifically a piece called Hi, Ren.

Go experience Hi, Ren for yourself. Its significance here is as a vehicle to help understand a battle we each face everyday: trade our personal data away to Big Tech – or walk away from the conveniences and opportunities of modern society.

Crumbs for a Crown

Voice 1 (Optimistic about the Trade)

No keys, no kingdom, no clicks, no crown.
Give a little data up, watch me double down.

Feed me clout, feed me fame, feed me views on demand.
Build a brand, flip a bag, and they all understand.
Bro, don't you see? It's a symphony of reach,
Give 'em little crumbs, they give us grand preach.

Access to the masses, ain't that the goal?
Your IP's just paper — they turn it to gold.
They plow through our clicks like crops in a yield,
But I'm tryna make bread, so a little gets peeled?

Data's just a token, man, it's all give-and-take.
If don't cash in, I'm missin' all the cake!

Voice 2 (Skeptical about the Trade)

Another grind, another dime.
Another grab – my data, their crime.

Listen, fool, don't you see the design?
You're not the player here, you’re the product online.
Every “like” is a leash, every share is a snare,
They don't want your music — they want all your air.

Look close, bro, it’s a devil's fine print,
A lifetime of tracking for a second to glint.
IP for IP — your "Intellectual Property"
Traded for "Infinite Profiling," you see?

Every click builds a cage, call it free range,
They'll sell back your soul in a Big Data exchange.
You’re a cash crop, homie, a walking QR,
Don’t mistake every stage light for a star.

Chorus (Clash of voices in your head)

"Should I share or should I run?" (Run, run, run)
"Trade crumbs for a crown — or be left with none?" (None, none, none)
They dangle the fame, but they tighten the chains,
Hooked on the high, can't unsee the aim.

"Should I fight or should I fold?" (Fold, fold, fold)
"Build an empire? Be bought and sold?" (Sold, sold, sold)
A song for the crowd, or a song for myself?
Data mills don't sleep. Fund that AdTech creep.

Voice 1 (Optimistic about the Trade)

Tinfoil worries, bro, you're out of breath,
Not every cookie jar's a brush with death.
This is how it's done - this is modern finesse,
A million streams later, can't argue success.

Check the big dogs, the moguls, the kings,
They trade for the tools and the kingdom it brings.
Get the sponsor, get the bag, stack a billboard hit,
Stay too pure, and you'll stay a misfit.

Voice 2 (Skeptical about the Trade)

Man, that’s the lie they keep sellin' in waves —
“Compromise a little and you’ll be the one saved.”
But look closer, homie, it’s a rinse-and-repeat,
They pave streets of gold while your legacy deletes.

Your songs are your soul — but they carved out a slice.
Don’t sign your sound away for a badge on your name.
Metadata matters — we’re all Illustrated Men,
Do they know our songs, or just auction them again?

Chorus (Clash of voices in your head)

"Should I share or should I run?" (Run, run, run)
"Trade crumbs for a crown — or be left with none?" (None, none, none)
They dangle the fame, but they tighten the chains,
Hooked on the high, can't unsee the aim.

"Should I fight or should I fold?" (Fold, fold, fold)
"Build an empire? Be bought and sold?" (Sold, sold, sold)
A song for the crowd, or a song for myself?
Data mills don't sleep. Fund that AdTech creep.

Outro (Resolution?)

So, what’s the move, bro? What's the play?
Upload the track or keep it tucked away?
Sing for the world, let 'em feed on my pain,
Or sing for myself, where the silence remains.

But that silence is heavy, and the world’s too loud.
Follow the echo, or stand out from the crowd?
No one answers. No one calls.
The cursor blinks. The weight only grows.