Lyrics
Well, well
Well if it isn’t this motherfucker again! Are you serious?
You figured that nigga had disappeared and shit, but here he is
Wielding the power of perspective you only get when investing years in this
'Cause nothing’s more expensive than experience
And I’m spent, delirious, ballin' outta my mind
And I’ve lost it, I’m buying all of ya off, fall into line
Every fraud has a price, and it’s bottom dollar bargaining time
You can’t offer me bribes 'cause all that you’ve got is already mine
But that’s awfully kind — thanks!
Now shut your fucking mouth
Y’all been fucking round
In my fucking house
I’m hearing the same voice coming out of a hundred mouths
A hundred thou, if we count the underground
And there’s nothing I frown upon harder than air quote «artists»
Borrowing their whole product
From whoever’s popular and then ain’t so modest
Like they so hot because they so blogged
Like it wasn’t their marketing dollars that paid for all it
No, wait, don’t call it!
Don’t hate, Tone!
Play the game, don’t knock it
But that is a lot like forcing me to swallow your snot, then being like
«Hey! don’t vomit!»
Y’all way too soft on these a-holes, dog
I’m saying this shit from a place so honest, there ain’t no wrong in it
Fuck everything!
When I wrote Politics I was a kid acknowledging all of the shit
Now I’m an adult and I feel like a prophet
Like how many shots did I call? Shall I call an accountant?
Since hip-hop, the counterculture, became the culture of counting
Yet, accountability’s dead, we just out for them checks
So proud that we gotta sell out for respect
And the barely hidden insincerity is so foul, you live with the threat
That high-fives are always followed with a request
Somebody said that success is the best revenge and it’s a point so valid
That niggas is all network, no talent
It’s an imbalance, so telling it like it is just might destroy your access
To this circus of trend-whores with coke habits
Well, I’ve had it!
I’m earnest to the platelets in my bones
And anyone afraid to burn a bridge is too lazy to build their own
I’m obsessive-compulsive, reps are what I know
A perfectionist with a restraining order, can’t leave well-enough alone
So, I tend to expose the devil that’s close
But that never bodes well for their soul-selling M. O
Like when a distributor fell in a hole and said they were broke
But they kept what they sold so I never saw a cent of my dough
Here’s another lesson to quote:
Becoming friends with the press is a no
'Cause they grow resentful, it’s best the less that they know
Them motherfuckers pretend that they’re so essential, the probe isn’t farfetched
They’re just star-fuckers with pencils in tow
But yo, the most disrespectful joke especially low
I bled for this, bro
Even went to the post to send you this dope
Indie is trendy so majors will cloak their artists as independents and pose
That’s like repping organic Pepsi and Coke
You didn’t do it yourself!
You ain’t authentic, you never knew what I felt
The disabling stress that ruined my health
You’re claiming credit like you ain’t abetted by ludicrous wealth
And then aided by numerous helpers
You may fool 'em well, 'cause who’s gonna tell?
Me, shitbag!
Did you get a billion views from an elf?
(Oh it’s magic!)
Clear Channel don’t have no room on its shelves for a book of spells
You know that shit’s bad when a kid’s hat
Is a big splash and we skip past
If he spits raps, but his hip dance
Is a hit smash within six flat
It’s a bitch slap in the face!
When you’ve mastered a trade
And every brick you’ve paved for their way is smashed in a day
And so rappers become actors, and then actors become rappers
This ain’t fantasy fulfillment, this shit is facts for the stage
It went from sucka MCs to wack niggas to herbs
To faggots, to lames, backpackers, netcees to nerds
To hipsters to blog rappers to frat, struggle to drill
But none of those names come if you’re ill
I am the hunter that went for the jugular
Spilling the blood of other hunters
And still I summoned the hunger to kill
But you bring out the worst in me
'Cause them pickings ain’t nourishing
And it eats me alive
It hurts when my stomach is filled
The new run of the mill: chasing fame
In this day and age, when brutality’s raging
Like fashion and throwing cash in our faces is gonna change it
It’s vapid, it’s aimless, I can’t quit, I have to just say this
'Cause I’m a fucking man — and that’s dedication
End of statement