Jungprogramierer Robbie Barrat hat ein neurales Netzwerk mit um die 6.000 Lines vom selbsternannten Rap-Gott Kanye West gefüttert. Im Rahmen seiner Programmier-AG auf der High School ist so der ideale Ghostwriter entstanden. Der erste selbstverfasste Track der künstlichen Intelligenz ist jedenfalls nicht soo viel schlechter als vieles, das im Radio läuft (sind wir mal ehrlich: einige Lines von West könnten auch zusammen gewürfelt sein). Jetzt braucht es nur noch einen Beat-Roboter (der hier wurde manuell dazu gepackt) und fertig ist die Hit-Machine!
„It’s a neural network that has been trained on rap songs, and can use any lyrics you feed it and write a new song (it now writes word by word as opposed to line by line) that rhymes and has a flow (to an extent).“
Auf Github ist der Sourcecode des Neural Network zu sehen. Und hier die Lyrics noch einmal zum Mitlesen:
To all my guys
You messin up my eyes
Fuck up your sleeves
And fire up the skies
…
They steal your whole sound, that’s a Real World Challenge
You an addict of cheating but I took the charge
Stop running up my money tall, height advantage
Ohhhhh, ohhhh; ohhh you too much to handle in one package
Not now but right now, you know… I had to go downtown
Shorty come and fix you up like bobby brown
Then he help me get my back up in this part of town
I can make you come and fix you up like bobby brown
Driving in the sky, you got a new crib to hold down
Shit’s about to go and put my mack berry down
…
So dangerous, but it’s all terrific
I done wore designers I won’t get specific
It seem like fine hoes is hard to get some traffic
He claim her heart colder than the music
Man I wish I had to play in traffic
You know when I heard it’s the way we was magic
When see me with a spit like a paraplegic
Wonder why it so hard not to play in traffic
Really Doe got a hell of a romantic
Lifestyles of the egotistic
…
The Delorean parked in front of that wack shit
The doctor don’t wanna hear that official shit
I’m in pajamas but I just want my credit
If this party ain’t got it I’m killing this shit
There’s only one girl on my Brad Pitt
Keep it up some god damn it I’m killing this shit
And I’m feeling smooth as the chorus hit
My homie called me like I owe her shit
But I need a girl who barely bra fit
Me and Common is back on my Brad Pitt
Man, you don’t get caught up with stupid shit
Then she cut from a girl who barely bra fit
How it feel to wake up with on some silly shit
I wish you could get is a whole city lit
That’s where I see they got it I’m killing this shit
Yeah you got a Benz and they ain’t done shit
Reality is catching up with stupid shit
Maybe that’ll work when you check, they ain’t done shit
…
I use it as always nigga, as always
Made her sit in that motherfucker sideways
Oh girl your silhouette make me pull the toys
I wonder where they want her to Ruby Tuesdays
Tell me what we at a ring from Tiffany’s
Yeah, tonight I see you in my home gym
When we die, the money should’ve changed him
I’m on TV talking like it’s all in my home gym
And see Penthouse 3 where a nigga from my team
He nicknamed me K-Rock so they abbreviate him
I don’t even want to talk some sense in him
Welcome to the most and they ain’t expect from him
The next generation will be assaulting him
…
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