Mainstream

[Verse 1: The Etherealist] Fuck the mainstream on the real These mother-fuckers don't own a iota of skill; what the deal? It's obvious these rappers just hit the jackpot It's pot luck: they was just the right time, the right spot Talking nothing but the same, old bullshit Cars, bling and bitches what they make a career with I'm fucking pissed: they making milli's off of mixtapes Shit-scapes of waste that they just laid in six days Fucking dick-slaves bragging 'bout pussy earnt Can't even make it off the sofa cause they fuck with purp Braindead; talking shit on the beat Lobotomy rap; they lucky not to shit in their sleep A million rappers kill the mainstream on the day-to-day It's cray. Who the fuck is buying shit put out by 2 Chainz? Fucking pay-per-verse rappers dropping Pop songs Lure 'em in with wack Trap beats and fucking drop bombs [Hook: The Etherealist] Fuck the mainstream on the real Fuck a website that only back who got a deal Fuck all the half-ass rappers slash Pop-stars Underground forever; check who really drops bars Fuck the mainstream on the real Fuck a magazine whose ratings don't reflect skill Fuck all the half-ass rappers slash Pop-stars Underground forever; we gone' take what's ours [Verse 2: The Etherealist] To all the phoney promos, magazines and websites Fronting like they love Hip-Hop and welcome any type Talking they support am' rappers from the start Don't expect to get a feature 'less you blowing up the charts And don't expect to get your mixtape on the front page That's fifty every day unless you signed to the majors, mate Won't take a chance on you until you break the fucking States But I love Boom Bap: not in it for the fucking pape's I don't fuck with 808s; I fuck with '90s tapes Whatever happened to the hot shit from that decade? (So who the next to get it?) You dropping thug shit now, they treat you like a leper Intelligent Hip-Hop got them running for fucking shelter Wise up: the genre's dumbing down to mix with Pop music Mind-numbing shit so the club-rats can bop to it So they can fuck to it. Where the Hip-Hop heads? Where the kids who care about the stories from their idols' pens? [Hook] [Verse 3: Genocide] I'm a heavyweight: high up on the food chain Underground Geno keep it gully with no crew name No 'Lil', no 'Young'; never no Pop shit Never sold my soul for some paper in my pocket We here to make you wake up from your daydream Keep my ear below the street; fuck the mainstream You never hear Genocide on your airwaves Cause when I rock the mic, I spit to make your head raise I'm that big Balkan you might'a heard about More than music: my movement is word-of-mouth I've been around for a minute: I'm a veteran Ever since '98, my skill set been evident Kept it relevant; grown-man raps Only Boom Bap beats when I preach to you cats Call it a relapse; I'm back with that grade-A Drug rap for your brain; NZ to the UK [Hook]