The Rap Game

Yeah, it's a fucked up game were in man You know [Verse 1:] Yo, it's getting harder for the people around to make me smoke I sign autographs at shows, then go straight to work I see kids I know getting chips to rap And I don't understand it, cause I think these kids are wack And I'm just sitting back and watching, like what the fuck Did they make this corny shit just to get their numbers up Well something's up, and I'll get to the basement Hip-Hop isn't dead, you guys just started liking gay shit Face it, these guys don't say shit They're just actors, with big gold chains, and shiny bracelets But I'll be damned if I'll let 'em take it If they tried to come up the way I came up, they would never make it I've earned respect amongst the best for sounding live In a place where if you tried, you wouldn't make it out alive And honestly I would shave my nuts with a switchblade Before I click the link to your downloadable mixtape Chorus: The rap game, where everybody wants a favor But nobody wants to pay you for the labor That's the rap game, where everybody's got their hands out But very few stand out The rap game, you got fakes, snakes, and cold hand shakes That's the mothafuckin' rap game (Yo) That's the rap game [Verse 2:] Yo, see I came up drinkin' 40's, kickin' freestyles and brawlin' And these kids are all in tight jeans now I turn on the radio and hear some dumb shit Like wow, this is worse than Reverend Run's kid I used to listen to Pun spit, and I've seen Big L perform But nowadays, I'm like what the hell went wrong Emcees get their acapellas on, but what's the purpose Now the crowd can really hear how fuckin' wack your verse is Surprised you're not rockin' purses how you rhyme now And in my house, we don't respect men that wax their eyebrows Time-out, I know what ruined our plans The fact that there's more rappers now, than there are fans But they don't pack in cars and vans and rock shitty crowds They record on their PC's and shout their cities out I took the gritty route, I press my own shit And made ten dollars off everyone of y'all that own this [Chorus] [Verse 3:] Yo, I don't care who you put on your album to garnish it That's why I put mine out, without a fuckin' feature on this shit Y'all producers are wack, I'll do my own joints And distribute myself, labels getting no points And I don't know who I'm supposed to be more mad at The rappers that make the music, or the kids that grab that Or the rappers I can laugh at, but this is no joke I don't want you kids as fans even if I go broke This is so dope, you can overdose Shout to Rubee, Dums, ReapSow, and Holy Smokes Diabolic, Grim, BanCalm Day Laborers, Spaceboy Melody, No Techno Sidius, Freestyle, Pen, and Skamatics for sure Let's get this money on, take these faggots to war Peace to everyone in the game that gave me love And to everyone else, this year it's raining blood The rap game That's the rap game The rap game The mothafuckin' rap game That's the rap game