Too Many Rappers

(Intro) It's that part of the album where feelings get hurt Something gotta be said, I might as well be the one to say it (Verse 1) What the hell is the matter with these crazy fools? Been spitting 7 months, talking about he paid his dues Rappers everywhere I go there ain't no escape These days the crackheads are dropping mix tapes The radio got you cut and they're spinning it loud Go to a show, nothing but other emcees in the crowd Most of them can't spit a lick but some of them can Now a days man, the artists outnumber the fans It's the retarded sounding artists that's causing the trouble And the ones with real skills getting lost in the shuffle Swear up and down you're in the top three the way you're bumping Making it hard on the ones that's really saying something Every day another born and more I found recent Twenty rappers in your clique and only one that's sounding decent And don't get it twisted, he ain't no hell of an artist He only stands out because his homeboys is so garbage (Chorus) There's too many rappers, every city, every nation Some of y'all need to find another occupation Fill out an application, go work at a gas station But put the mic down because it's fantasies that you're chasing (Verse 2) These fools be watching 106 and Park when they get home Trying to figure who's the next clown that they can clone Instead of trying to be innovative with styles you're dropping You set out to copy somebody already popping 7 albums still ain't made you no cash And your rotten homeboys won't even tell you it's trash They're sitting in the studio with you night after night You come out the booth say "how that sound?" They be like "Yeah, that's tight" But in reality, they're scared for the truth to come out That your vocals sounding like you got a boot in your mouth Why don't you try your hand at something else (please) Go and sell some avon Them nursery school raps sound like you wrote that shit in crayon And I ain't acting like i'm platinum though i'll rip the best up But damn at least I sell every unit that I press up Your friends don't even buy your music, I ain't joking You got boxes from three years ago that still never been opened (Chorus) (Verse 3) Can't hardly give your stuff away, I don't know how you survive Yo, I've heard of three for ten but damn homie, three for five? Your lyric writing, it ain't all that precise man You might need just being a hype man You're not qualified to stand with the mic in hand See it's about the tightest flows, not the tightest pants And never step to me because what comes out my mouth will roast you You're better off being that dude who's passing out the posters Rhyming ain't for everybody, still a lot have tried Truthfully only a handful are qualified Talent level on the bottom side We should colonize and force them to have their job descriptions modified Plenty of music in the streets but we don't trust who made it And that's the reason why the fans are so frustrated Case closed until you come up with some sicker flows Trash rappers on every corner just like liquor stores (Chorus / Outro)