| Yo, they’re like, oh my god, you fuckin rap |
| To the white folk I’m a thug with a tats |
| To the black folk I’m too fuckin frat |
| Yo fuck this crap get fed up |
| My dad says keep your head up |
| And don’t let yourself let up |
| I almost had my bread up |
| Then got jacked, now I’m back, in a worse place then I was |
| Get some pats, on my back, but my name ain’t got no buzz |
| Hit em w a track, and you swear, that this gone be the one |
| Cuz you ain’t never topped it, talk it up and drop it then youre back to square |
| one |
| And this is art to me, and its heartening, that potentially ill live off it |
| But disheartening, that a part of me, says compriomise to make lil profit |
| Real topic, seems theyll cop it, if you talking about pill poppin |
| Dealin rock and gettin guap and it helps by the way if youre real shockin |
| I don’t spill often, my heart that is, just took a hit and I’m still coughin |
| They don’t get me, if I said kill kenny, they’d say why the fuck would you |
| wanna kill lofton? |
| Sealed off in, this lil box and, thinkin this could be the one a mil watchin |
| Like this is it, hah, yeah right, again we gotchya |
| Every night |
| Close my eyes |
| Filled with the hope of what tomorrow may bring |
| Every day |
| I awake |
| Yet it’s the same old song that they sing |
| Play for a new crowd |
| Yet its the same show |
| Achieving new highs |
| Yet feel the same low |
| I start to think they’re right |
| Some things can’t change though |
| So I wonder if I, am chasing rainbows |
| Me I be a little bove the ground height |
| Marijuana otherwise I’d be wound tight |
| Livin in the age of the sound bite |
| Man that’s the shit that I don’t like |
| Man i hate skip bayless stations bating viewers, chasing ratings |
| Hey have you heard jason batemans gay and dating, make a rumor |
| Have a strong opinion, take your viewers, con them into |
| Buyin in, a nation where we, take our very, own and mold them |
| Make consumers |
| And you wonder why we’re |
| Plagued with tumors |
| As we come to find its |
| Straight manure |
| That theyre feeding us leading us now to believe |
| That we’re unhappy |
| Vacant you are |
| Not content? |
| Wanna feel better? |
| Then buy this shit |
| You’ll feel better |
| Get a lotta shit |
| Spend real cheddar |
| Come shop n shit |
| Our deals better |
| A scholarship to college yep, just to get a good job we can tolerate |
| The modern day, american dream, see to live it now you gotta be not awake |
| Workin jobs we hate, to buy more shit that we don’t need, its a viscious race |
| Cuz the bigger the hole thats inside the more we buy as we try just to fill its |
| place |
| I ain’t tryin to preach, i’m part of the trend, hopin my art makes exorbitant |
| bread |
| America, huh, the more unhappy we are, the more that we spend |
| Fame only comes to the best and worse |
| Yes its a blessing a curse with aversive effects |
| Im the first to confess that its easier to be the worst than the best |
| And the persons effected, the borderline |
| Between good and great, the more the try |
| The more they find, theyre marginalized |
| Either part of them dies or theyre fortified |
| Man, 2chainz and the based god, yup both of those dudes |
| They can rap |
| Titty boi was playas circle and lil b was in the pack |
| And skip bayless was writing books, nah i guess really |
| He was a still a hack But my point is, its easier to get noticed than to master |
| your craft |
| And Matter of fact I know, if youre good enough then youre broke |
| But if youre good enough to be good enough then youre good enough to be to be a |
| joke |
| Uh, Shortcut vs long climb |
| Overnight vs long time |
| When youre climbin long enough |
| It get kinda rough |
| And you ponder that won’t lie |
| And then I confide in the end tho, if notoriety the end goal |
| Then by all means, do your thing, do what you gotta do to its simple |
| Grab for the cash, it come and it go, and you gotta live with the after effects |
| But master your craft, have massive effect, but like von gogh could be after |
| your death |