The infestation of our population patrons dealing mostly
In fakin' front the frontlines with fronted reputations, it
Would be verbal masturbation except you get off with a
Large part of the nation is it compensation for lack of
Personality or frustration, you are not what you like to be
In this reality, you need some creativity or some
Vocabularity maybe try university to diversify your
Diversity stop actively pursuing this acting activity you
See even master actors lack the authenticity. You cannot
Bust into a settlement by storm honking the horns you
Stole from those who came before your swim to shore it's
Not a war of course but your riding on our prized horse
You've tapped from our water source lifted from our stores
And reservoirs of sorts. I can't ignore in fact I'm sore
Music is not a whore so do not borrow it's source and
Decode it like Morse, cause' you endorse forced rhymes
And this time we closed the doors sorry suckas you can't
Suck us. If you're not a worm don't get bit and if you're
Not a fish please don't bite it
There are way too many citizens neglecting lyrical content
Cash spent on Clark Kents boasting Superman descent with
Dissonant intent no dissenters or repentance keeps the
Standard subterranean so the dense can hop the fence and
Three in the morning, mourning the loss of genius as my eyes
Open, the lack of sleep sucker-punched me left me three black
Eyes, trying to figure out how people build a wall of truth by
Telling lies - we dropped disguises, deciding our angles
Shouldn't be hiding, and everybody shouts "TRY
Rewriting"
But I'm not buying it, I'm selling facts not
Fiction, if you need to borrow diction go to the library and l
Ook it up under the section labeled "whack," before airplay
This genre's played out like falling in love with Bjork, I'm
Stranded in the Diesland while my brain is in New York
Well I'll be diggin' on some futurock and cuttin' pictures out
Of magazines till the light under the door goes from black to
Grayish green
I don't claim to be an "MC" just an "me"
"D-I-a" cut me up and I'm bleeding beat poetry in ten years I'll
Look back and see if martyrdom was financially beneficial
I remember you screaming and biting the heads off mannequins
That don't budge but bought a t-shirt with your name on it, but
They bought it, that's money in your pocket - I know but do I
Need it? - You got an addiction what do you do with it?! -
(Feed it)
Those who mass market you will duplicate your
Greatness while you're busy using superlatives - take away
Your natural flavor and add preservatives, reserving the right
Because you chose to serve them blindly - they took your style
Ideas, life and said "Thank you kindly, (I own you)"
Music as a whole has been diluted
Your whole intent convoluted
After the planet has been flooded with your fodder, your
Formula now reads "simply add water."