I say funny stuff in my lyrics to make people laugh, but it's all

In the words of Rich Brian, “I say funny stuff in my lyrics to make people laugh, but it's all in the seriousness of the music. I'm just being witty.” — there lies a truth both ancient and enduring. It speaks to the paradox of art: that within the cloak of humor often hides the beating heart of truth. The wise have long known that laughter is not the enemy of depth but its companion; it opens the guarded gates of the human soul, allowing wisdom to enter softly. In this way, Rich Brian stands among poets and philosophers of old who disguised their gravity with wit, knowing that the world listens better when it smiles.

In the age of emperors and sages, the Greek philosopher Diogenes of Sinope walked through Athens with a lantern in daylight, proclaiming he sought an honest man. The crowd laughed at his absurdity — yet his witty madness concealed a divine seriousness. Through jest, he revealed the hypocrisy of men who lived in shadows of their own deceit. So it is with Rich Brian: his funny lines are not to mock, but to awaken. He makes the listener laugh, not to scatter their thoughts, but to draw them nearer — to the rhythm, the story, the heartbeat beneath the sound.

For wit, when wielded by the sincere, is a blade that cuts gently through the noise of the world. The seriousness of the music does not lie in solemn tone but in the intention behind the art. Rich Brian, with youthful candor, tells us that even in laughter there is art, and in jest there is truth. Just as jesters in royal courts once spoke truth to kings when no one else dared, the artist of today must sometimes wear the mask of humor to speak the soul’s language safely.

Consider also Shakespeare, who wrapped the gravest reflections on power, love, and death in comedies filled with fools and clowns. Yet behind their laughter, he whispered the deepest questions of humanity. His fools were philosophers wearing bells instead of crowns. Rich Brian’s words echo that same lineage — that to make people laugh is not to belittle art, but to elevate it, by meeting hearts where they are before guiding them higher.

To understand the origin of this thought, we must look to the dual nature of music itself. Music is at once celebration and confession. In the same beat that moves the feet can also move the spirit. When Rich Brian says he is “just being witty,” he reminds us that humor is not an escape from emotion but a bridge to it. It is through laughter that sorrow can breathe, and through levity that meaning can rise without the weight of despair.

The lesson, dear reader, is this: do not confuse lightness with weakness, nor laughter with shallowness. A soul that can laugh in the midst of struggle is not empty — it is strong. A creator who can blend humor with honesty has found the secret path between the sacred and the ordinary. If the world makes you heavy, learn to smile without losing your depth. If you wish to speak truth, do not fear to make others laugh along the way.

And so, as the ancients taught and as Rich Brian reminds us, the artist’s duty is to speak the serious through the simple, and the wise through the witty. Let your words dance even as your heart bleeds. Let your art invite laughter even as it carries fire. For the greatest truths — like stars — shine brightest when glimpsed through the veil of playfulness.

In your own life, practice this art. When the world grows cold, respond with warmth. When burdens grow heavy, find the humor that lightens them. Be witty, but let your wit serve meaning. Be joyful, but let your joy honor truth. For in every laugh that carries sincerity, in every jest that hides compassion, you will live as both poet and sage — as one who understands that laughter, too, is a language of the soul.